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“I did discover pleasure, yes. Which I should like to share with you. If you’ll indulge me.” Enzo hesitated. “We might use a lambskin sheath, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
Fiore shook his head. He trusted Enzo’s judgment in this. It was his body, after all. “I’ll take your word.”
Enzo’s smile faded. “Or if you would prefer to abstain altogether…”
All too late, Fiore realized how his hesitance had come across. He tried to mask his dawning horror. If Enzo mistook him—if he supposed, even for the merest moment, that any part of him repulsed Fiore—it would prove more than Fiore could well bear.
“Forgive me,” Fiore begged, his words tumbling over his tongue in his haste. “I’m eager. It’s just—I want to ensure I give you pleasure rather than pain.”
Enzo balked. Then his shy smile returned and made Fiore’s heart flutter. In a voice as soft as lambskin, he replied, “Trust me to know the difference?”
Fiore dared approach him. For once it was he who bent so they might kiss. Enzo tilted his face up and met him with eagerness.
Better still, he allowed Fiore to draw him back down into the bed.
“Have you any oil?” Fiore asked when they broke off for breath.
Enzo smiled. “You won’t need it.”
Fiore sincerely doubted it. But he likewise doubted his own doubts. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Enzo assured him.
Fiore remained unconvinced. “Isn’t it rather a…” He trailed off. Years of experience in these matters had nonetheless left him almost totally ignorant in this particular arena. He had only rumor to depend on. “A delicate flower?”
A marked pause ensued. Enzo blinked at him. Fiore feared he’d stumbled into the realm of insult.
Then Enzo chuckled. “Not in the least.”
A relieved smile tugged Fiore’s lips.
Enzo arranged himself beneath Fiore—face-to-face. A posture not altogether unknown to Fiore, though it typically required the gentleman to throw his knees over Fiore’s shoulders. Enzo, however, merely spread his thighs apart. Kisses or perhaps mere anticipation had raised his cock to full mast and revealed his glistening cunt. Fiore stood no less ready. He slipped his hand between them both and aligned his sword with Enzo’s secret sheath. His cock-head slid against the innermost petals, already wet with something like seed. Their warmth sent a sensual shiver through his frame. He bent to capture Enzo’s lips in another kiss. Then, at his nod, Fiore dared to enter him.
It required a slightly different approach than what Fiore had practiced for so many years. An unfamiliar angle but nevertheless a familiar sensation. His first thrust revealed a far more yielding entrance than he’d expected. He slipped in further than intended, losing the whole of his cock-head within Enzo before his panicked halt. A gasp shuddered up from deep within Enzo’s ribs and sent Fiore’s own heart into his throat for fear he’d done harm. But an upward glance revealed a bitten-back smile gracing Enzo’s scarred lips; the gasp had expressed pleasure rather than pain, and Enzo’s arms clasped ‘round his shoulders drew him in for an embrace. One hand drifted down to palm the globe of his ass, not-so-subtly hinting he ought to press on. Under such encouragement Fiore could hardly do elsewise save slowly sink inside.
Enzo’s head rolled back. The jewel in his throat pulsed beneath his beard-shadow. The sight threatened to send Fiore spiraling off into realms he’d never recover from. He buried his own face in Enzo’s collar and kissed a bruise there. Yet he could not deny himself for long. He drew back, hungry for the sight of Enzo—how his noble brow had furrowed, how his dark eyes had fluttered shut, how he caught his scarred lip between his teeth. Fiore had never before beheld Enzo’s face whilst inside him. Now he felt as if he could never bear to look away. The mere entrance of his cock sent shuddering waves of sensation throughout Enzo’s body clasped in his embrace.
Fiore’s own pleasure felt no less so. Having sheathed himself to the hilt, he basked in the hot, wet, tight paradise. He took Enzo’s own blade in hand; a few experimental strokes sent Enzo shivering beneath him, around him, through him. To hear Enzo’s breath catch at his touch was one thing; to see it flicker across his scarred and handsome features was quite another. Both together were more than Fiore thought he could well stand.
When he could bear to keep still no longer, Fiore dared at last to roll his hips. He rocked as gentle as the lapping of the lagoon against a ship’s hull, the barest inch of him sliding in and out of Enzo’s cunt. Enzo’s cock throbbed in his palm in time with his pulse. Pearls of seed leaked from its tip even as Fiore’s own cock was drenched in the slickness of his cunt. Enzo’s hips thrust up to meet his ceaseless tide. His hand tangled in Fiore’s hair ‘til Fiore took the hint and kissed him.
“Harder,” Enzo gasped when they broke off for breath. His hips jerked against Fiore in evident desperation. “Please.”
Fiore could hardly deny him when he asked so prettily. Even less so when his own desires matched Enzo’s. He drew himself out ‘til just the tip remained, then thrust forth, plunging into depths hitherto unknown to him.
Enzo arched his spine beneath him. His nails drew furrows into Fiore’s back. His broken moan bid Fiore on, again and again, and Fiore lost himself in the ceaseless fury. He knew not if he were the storm splintering a ship or the ship itself swallowed up in the storm, torn between stealing Enzo’s breath in kisses and gasps and drawing back to behold the splendor of Enzo’s face caught in the same tempest, until—
Enzo’s cock and cunt pulsed in tandem, spend erupting over Fiore’s fist from one and cascading over his cock from the other.
Fiore had felt Enzo come before. He’d tasted his spend, wrapped his cock in his shuddering frame, seen how the mere sight of Fiore could send him into transports—but always beneath a mask.
Until now.
Now, Fiore saw how the gasp overcame him, how his dark eyes rolled back, how his jaw fell open and locked in ecstasy, how the furrow in his brow released at long last.
He was resplendent. Better than Fiore had ever imagined.
And this—combined with how Enzo’s cunt clenched ‘round him, rippling in rhythm with his spend—sent Fiore following him over the same precipice mere moments after. With a few final thrusts he shuddered to a halt, spilling his seed deep within Enzo, his own groan of satisfaction echoing from Enzo’s throat. He collapsed atop him, inside him, tangled in their embrace, one which grew only tighter as Enzo’s mouth found his and he lost himself in their kiss.
