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“What?”
“You…taste different.”
Mattias cocked his head. “What…do I normally taste like?”
“Like – like you.”
“Helpful.”
“Shut up. You’re always chewing those mint leaves, and you drink strong tea. And you – I don’t know, you taste the way a man ought to.”
“Hm. You’ve only tasted my mouth, though.” A leering glint came into his eyes, and Náli shoved him – which didn’t budge him, of course.”
“You’re horrid. I’m being perfectly serious, and you’re being horrid.”
“Fine. What do I taste like now?”
Náli stretched up to press their lips together. Lingered, dipped his tongue between Mattias’s lips to trace the backs of his teeth and his palate. He licked his own lips as he pulled back. “All right. So. It’s not so much a taste as it is…” Another kiss; this one he pulled Mattias into, hands on his lean cheeks. “It’s a feeling,” he murmured against now-damp lips. “Can you feel it, too?”
“Yes,” Mattias said, hushed, all traces of amusement gone, now. The hand he rested on Náli’s thigh flexed, fingertips digging into flesh. “It’s…a kind of tingling. Like you’re vibrating and it’s catching. Like it’s going into me.”
“That’s magic,” Náli said, with relish, and kissed him again.
Kissing was its own sort of magic. The slotting and gliding and clinging of lips. The soft, wet sounds of coming together, again and again.
There was a new humming sensation, now. Náli’s power was much stronger, and now Mattias had power of his own. It fed on itself, flowing between them, back and forth, without any effort. Náli could easily see how he could put force behind the transfer and shift the tides of magic between them, sharing more, taking more, as needed.
It inspired a thought, though.
He pulled back. “Wait. Does this mean that if I need to draw magic from one of the others, or offer them more of mine, that I’ll have to kiss them?”
Mattias’s color – high from necking – deepened. “Am I already so insufficient?”
“Of course not. But you’re the one who mentioned Einrih’s, quote, ‘not small’ endowment. You can’t blame me for being curious – ah!” The last turned into a shout as Mattias scooped him up and dumped him onto his back on the mattress.
Mattias prowled over him on hands and knees, pinning him, laughing, down to the bed. His lips twitched, as he tried to stay in character, eyes brimming with laughter – with happiness, yes. He was happy, just as Náli was, and Náli’s laughter died away in his throat as the enormity of that simple fact struck him full-force.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, voice choked, and Mattias did.
It was different than last night, in a better way. No longer the first time, momentous and nerve-wracking, Náli knew what to expect: shivered only with anticipation, without a trace of apprehension, as Mattias peeled off his robe and touched him all over with hands and mouth. Was greedy in turn when Mattias stripped off his own clothes, his touch bolder and more assured as he traced the grooves between strong muscles, and appreciated the flex of back, and hip, and flank.
He was sore, still, tender from last night, and this morning, but insistent. Mattias stretched him thoroughly, and gently, until the pleasure warmed through the burn of the stretch and Náli was begging on hands and knees, back arched, thrusting back against the fingers that worked him open.
But it turned out he didn’t really know what to expect, not completely, because Mattias stretched out with his head on the pillows and pulled Náli astride him. Took his oiled cock in one hand and urged Náli down, down, down with the other, until he breached and then filled him.
It was overwhelming. Pleasure and intense fullness, the hot press of him filling him at new angles, sparking new nerves until his belly was lit up like sparks. Náli groaned, unselfconscious, and let his head fall back on his neck, weight of his long hair dragging at him, while Mattias rubbed little circles down low on his belly, and on his hip.
“Oh. Oh, that feels…” He shifted, rocked his hips, and was rewarded with a low grunt from Mattias; with a stirring of acute sensation in his guts. “Can I…?”
“Like a horse, yeah? Up and back.”
Náli had always been an exceptional equestrian. He moved slow at first, just rocking. Mattias gripped his hips and guided him, stroked down the length of his thighs until they flexed beneath his palms, as Náli lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, a little higher each time, dropping a little faster, harder. Until the room filled with the rhythmic slap of sweat-damp skin.
Náli raked his nails down Mattias’s chest and rode him hard, panting, jubilant, burning from the inside out. He could feel the magic beneath his skin; could feel it singing where he and Mattias were joined, each time he smacked down and Mattias’s cock made him see stars. Mattias was gorgeous beneath him, sweat-sheened and straining, tendons leaping and muscles twitching as his hips lifted to meet the fall of Náli’s, thrusting up into him when Náli’s legs threatened to give out.
“We did it,” Náli gasped, planting a hand over Mattias’s thundering heart and bearing down hard. “Gods, we really did it – we did it.”
“You did it,” Mattias said, and thrust up hard.
Náli came with a shout, flush with love, and wonder, and pleasure, and magic.
