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Fingers withdrew, hands gripped him by the hips, and he was unceremoniously flipped onto his back.
The breath left his lungs in a rush when he landed, and he stared up, shocked, at Mattias’s unrestrained, wicked grin; he was delighted with himself, the ass.
He pinned Náli with one hand down low against his belly, just above the head of his weeping cock, and with the other reached between his own legs to slick his cock with oil. When had he unlaced his trousers? Náli wondered. More importantly, how was something that big supposed to fit inside him?
“Speechless?” Mattias asked when he could do nothing but stare. Cock stiff and shiny now with oil, he gave himself one last stroke, muscle in his throat leaping, and parted Náli’s thighs; settled between them on his knees, lining them up.
Náli opened his mouth, but was, in fact, speechless. He’d been teasing, and asking, and pushing, and begging for this – or a more innocent version of it – since he was twelve. And now the moment was here, and he was thrumming with readiness, and Mattias had been right, hadn’t he? There was no going back, after. Things could never be as they’d been before.
The self-satisfied look melted off Mattias’s face. He shuffled in closer – Náli felt the hot, hard line of his cock on the tender inside of his thigh, and then bumping against his own shaft – so he could lean down and kiss him, slow and sweet. It reached out to him as a lifeline, a safe place in this new, unexplored storm between them, and Náli looped his arms around Mattias’s neck, trembling and grateful, eagerly pressing up into the kiss, lips parted.
Mattias broke away, finally, with a wet, sucking sound, and met Náli’s gaze while he stroked his sides, soothing up and down sweeps along the narrowest part of his waist. “We can stop,” he offered, smile soft. “We can stop whenever you want.”
Náli let his frustration boil out in a rough exhale. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t. It’s only…”
“I know.” Mattias pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, chest inflating and pushing against Náli’s, breath catching audibly in his throat. “I know, darling.”
He sat back and reached for the oil again. Drizzled a little more and spread it with his fingers, one last check of his readiness until Náli was biting at his lip and lifting his hips to meet him. It felt different this way, on his back; still an overfull stretch and a burn, but discomforts he wouldn’t trade. He wanted more. Wanted to feel Mattias inside him.
Mattias didn’t ask this time with words, but caught his gaze, and whatever he found there left him nodding and shuffling in even closer. He pushed Náli’s thighs wider and held him by the hip; took his cock in his other hand.
Warm kiss of skin on skin. Blunt pressure. “Breathe,” Mattias instructed. And then he pressed inside.
Náli did not breathe. He bit his lip hard and concentrated on opening, yielding. Mattias pushed in, and in, and in, and Náli gave and gave, and it was so much. It was too much.
Mattias’s sharp, clothed hipbones kissed the insides of his thighs, and he was buried to the hilt. Náli clenched down and breathed in sharp little gasps; Mattias’s teeth flashed as he gritted them, throat jumping as he swallowed, struggling just as much in his own way.
“Breathe,” he reminded, voice strained. He stroked Náli’s belly, and spread his hand over his chest. “Come on. In and out. It gets easier in a minute, I promise.”
Now there was a mental picture. The idea of it plucked at Náli’s awareness, made him wriggle, which in turn made Mattias suck a sharp breath in through his nose. “Speaking…from experience?”
Mattias held very still, but his pulse thumped visibly in his throat and his thumb flicked back and forth over Náli’s nipple, mindlessly teasing, betraying his strain. “Yeah.”
“Really?” The distraction was helping. Thinking of Mattias like this, while he was so very full was…enjoyable. “Which one of them? Who despoiled my captain?”
Mattias rolled his eyes with a huff of a pained laugh. “Einrih. He’s…not small.”
“Ooh.” Náli clenched again, on purpose this time, and that was – that was something. That was easier, as promised, as his body grew used to the intrusion; and it was worthwhile to watch Mattias’s lashes flutter; to feel the dig of his fingertips as his hand spasmed. “I’d like to see that sometime.”
“Gods.”
“So long as Einrih knows that you belong to me.”
“Náli.” Mattias shuddered all over, head bowing a moment as he fought for control.
“That’s always been true,” Náli continued. “You’ve always been mine. Now make me belong to you.”
Mattias made a wounded sound, and his hips kicked, an involuntary buck that left Náli gasping.
“Fuck me,” Náli breathed. “Fuck me, Matti.”
With a rumbling moan, he did. He gripped Náli’s hips tight in both hands, withdrew a fraction, and thrust back in. There was no pain, now, only fullness. Náli made an encouraging noise, and Mattias did it again. And again.
“Good?”
“Yeah – yeah – don’t stop. Just…” Náli took a double handful of his tunic and hauled himself upright.
“Whoa, Náli, what–”
