[It feels different this time. He doesn't want to waste any precious seconds on the why, but — there's a newness for him, too, as they peel off clothes and inspect the evidence of each other's presence left on skin, that almost makes Cain able to pretend he's never done it before either. Jonas's giggling is infectious, though it only manifests in a smile on Cain's mouth as he noses into the curve of a shoulder and starts nursing another hickey right on top of an older, faded mark.
It's his kryptonite, what can he say.]
Think you've mentioned it a couple of times. [He arches under Jonas's wandering touches, encouraging them with a low hum of pleasure.] And duh, I want to do it. Next time I'll let you do it to yourself, so I can watch, but not this time. I wanna be the one who works you open on my fingers until you're a fucking mess, J.
[With a shuffle of limbs, he tucks himself to the side of Jonas's body with one of his knees between the other's legs, folding them open, hand drifting down to the cock he finds there. He strokes flushed velvet-skin with a soft and open palm, not really intending to do more than stimulate as he spoons in against Jonas, a long line of muscle pressed close.]
Ah, fuck... you're pretty hot yourself. Probably why I went a little crazy when I got you in my cockpit. [And the rest is history.] Hey, can you reach my bag? It's on the floor. Lube's in the first pocket.
( Fishing for lube so Cain can fuck him wasn't on his Bingo card today, but he can appreciate a spur-of-the-moment decision that benefits them both. They're going to forget about their troubles inside of each other, and Jonas grunts softly for the big, impending distraction currently pressing against him. )
Yeah, I just... I need some slack, but just about— ( Stretching over the bed, he misses one of the straps on his first swing, but nabs it on his second with two fingers that drag it quickly forward.
First pocket, small squeeze bottle. Jonas feels other items, too, but none he gives a fuck about, letting the backpack fall backward into the sand. He's panting now at the heavy petting of his dick, rolling back fully against Cain to impatiently groan at him. He wants to be the one who "works [him] open on [his] fingers"? Jesus Christ.
Grabbing Cain's working wrist, manually turning it to deposit the lube and let him do his thing, Jonas pauses. Then, slowly, with some expected shyness, he parts his thighs to expose more of himself. )
God, the craziest shit ever comes out of your mouth; I am a big fan. Should... Should I... Do you want me on my knees, or—What's the best way to do this is what I'm asking.
[He admires the curve of Jonas's body when the boy reaches for the ground, smooth golden skin in a long line up his bicep and over the curve of a shoulder, the perfect places to put his mouth in preoccupied kisses. Dark eyes watch the side of Jonas's face, attention rapt on all the subtle shifts in that handsome expression. He doesn't want to miss a thing.
There's a snicker when Jonas returns to position, taking his wrist to hand off the bottle of lubricant. Amusement evaporates into a look of pure, unadulterated worship as Jonas obediently opens his thighs — liking the little hint of shyness more than he can say.]
We're not fucking yet. We can be kinda lazy about this part, so it's more comfortable. Just stay on your back.
[And while Jonas is lying there taking up most of the space on the narrow cot, Cain shifts, tucking himself more securely in at Jonas's side. This way he can effectively spoon Jonas while having access to everything he needs to reach between his thighs, and keep his gaze on Jonas's face to watch for signals of pain or discomfort.]
I don't really trust this bed with anything too rough... and I don't think that's the way to go for a first time either. [There's the very audible, very telling noise of a cap being popped open, a tube being squeezed — Cain does it without looking before he lowers slick, glistening fingertips down into the crease of the other's ass and gently rubs against taut, warm skin just behind the balls. There's no aim to go straight for his hole; the goal is to get him used to the sensation first.] Uh, sorry, it's gonna be cold for a sec.
( He likes lazy. He can definitely do lazy. Especially when he can feel Cain press against his side, halfway over him so Jonas can look up at his face and watch him concentrate. It's all easy for this guy and he's grateful for that; one of them has to know what they're doing, and he leans more heavily in his direction for another kiss.
It's brief, settling back down onto his forearms—he's too alert—and a little embarrassed—to lie fully prone, not when this is a position that has him spread for God and everybody to see.
All he can do is breathe deeply for a moment when cool, slick fingers press against his taint, and having never been explored there, he blushes darkly. Grabs for Cain's wrist momentarily. Slowly releases it to console himself with a squeeze of the muscular thigh between his legs. Purses his lips to let out a slow, wavering little breath.
Better. )
Don't stop. I'm—My body just isn't used to— ( Sensation. Pleasure. Anything.
The reminder that Cain shared something similar, that he thinks he might be dead, too, inspires Jonas to kiss up beneath a strong chin, performing a quick reach around to target the cock that'll soon be inside of him. It's nice to have a distraction, guiding the excess skin of Cain's uncut erection down into the first series of preparatory pumps. )
I'm not worried. I'm, uh... I'm excited. I trust you.
[He likes watching those physical reactions as they come over Jonas, proof and evidence that he's affected, that this is new for him — something Cain appreciates, even hoards a little close to the chest when lips brush against his own in search of a kiss. He gives that easily, marveling at how much he's progressed from his initial standoffishness for kissing. With Jonas, it just feels second nature now.
There's a low sound when that hand folds over his cock, taken into a warm fist that works him over in slow strokes. Jonas is a giver, he's learned, so he's not surprised. But the sound in his own throat becomes a growl — unable to keep hips from grinding forward, rubbing himself against Jonas' body in a press of muscle. He may be experienced, but he's holding back to be careful, to slow down. And it's not easy.
I trust you. God, he could get addicted to this boy.]
Mm. [He takes another kiss, this one messier in a smear of lips and blunt teeth, just the faintest pinch.] You're so... fucking hot, J. It's driving me crazy.
[The introduction of a finger isn't delayed, because he knows sometimes waiting makes the tension worse. He just cups his hand between Jonas' thighs and slides the index in, stretching the rim of his hole in a perfect glide of friction that swallows every single knuckle, until the heel of a palm is seated against the curve of his ass. No movement in those first few moments — until a less negligible stretch comes as his middle finger fits in alongside the first, widening the stretch, pushing deep.]
Breathe. [He pushes his face against Jonas' shoulder, nuzzling at a warm throat.] How's it feel?
( The urge to talk throughout is overwhelming, but he enjoys Cain's growls and heavy huffs against him too much to interrupt. They set his skin on fire, as does the finger sliding without pomp or circumstance inside of him. Already, it feels good. It feels good because it's careful and it's thorough, and though it's strange, he grunts his approval, mouth open against Cain's. While he's kissed and nipped, while the second finger works its way in with the first, Jonas focuses on the distraction of the familiar cock in his hand and simply breathes as instructed. )
Yeah, ( he answers, missing what's asked entirely. He cranes his neck to give Cain easier access to his throat, Adam's apple working as the dry air of the desert is greedily swallowed.
Knowing Cain can feel him tightening and twitching, Jonas tries momentarily to hide his face, embarrassed by how much more involved they're becoming. How desperately he wants this. How in love with him he is. It begins as an ache in his chest, then blooms outward suddenly when the deep stretch and probe of Cain's fingers target places inside of him that make him groan. Reactionarily, his hips automatically tilt to chase it, firming up his grip on Cain's dick. )
Oh, yeah, no, this is... It's better. ( Than his experiments in the shower, alone. Stressed and incompatible with himself. This feels like a poetic do-over, and he gasps into another press down against Cain's hand. ) God, it's way better. Keep... Keep doing... whatever.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's his kryptonite, what can he say.]
Think you've mentioned it a couple of times. [He arches under Jonas's wandering touches, encouraging them with a low hum of pleasure.] And duh, I want to do it. Next time I'll let you do it to yourself, so I can watch, but not this time. I wanna be the one who works you open on my fingers until you're a fucking mess, J.
[With a shuffle of limbs, he tucks himself to the side of Jonas's body with one of his knees between the other's legs, folding them open, hand drifting down to the cock he finds there. He strokes flushed velvet-skin with a soft and open palm, not really intending to do more than stimulate as he spoons in against Jonas, a long line of muscle pressed close.]
Ah, fuck... you're pretty hot yourself. Probably why I went a little crazy when I got you in my cockpit. [And the rest is history.] Hey, can you reach my bag? It's on the floor. Lube's in the first pocket.
no subject
Yeah, I just... I need some slack, but just about— ( Stretching over the bed, he misses one of the straps on his first swing, but nabs it on his second with two fingers that drag it quickly forward.
First pocket, small squeeze bottle. Jonas feels other items, too, but none he gives a fuck about, letting the backpack fall backward into the sand. He's panting now at the heavy petting of his dick, rolling back fully against Cain to impatiently groan at him. He wants to be the one who "works [him] open on [his] fingers"? Jesus Christ.
Grabbing Cain's working wrist, manually turning it to deposit the lube and let him do his thing, Jonas pauses. Then, slowly, with some expected shyness, he parts his thighs to expose more of himself. )
God, the craziest shit ever comes out of your mouth; I am a big fan. Should... Should I... Do you want me on my knees, or—What's the best way to do this is what I'm asking.
no subject
There's a snicker when Jonas returns to position, taking his wrist to hand off the bottle of lubricant. Amusement evaporates into a look of pure, unadulterated worship as Jonas obediently opens his thighs — liking the little hint of shyness more than he can say.]
We're not fucking yet. We can be kinda lazy about this part, so it's more comfortable. Just stay on your back.
[And while Jonas is lying there taking up most of the space on the narrow cot, Cain shifts, tucking himself more securely in at Jonas's side. This way he can effectively spoon Jonas while having access to everything he needs to reach between his thighs, and keep his gaze on Jonas's face to watch for signals of pain or discomfort.]
I don't really trust this bed with anything too rough... and I don't think that's the way to go for a first time either. [There's the very audible, very telling noise of a cap being popped open, a tube being squeezed — Cain does it without looking before he lowers slick, glistening fingertips down into the crease of the other's ass and gently rubs against taut, warm skin just behind the balls. There's no aim to go straight for his hole; the goal is to get him used to the sensation first.] Uh, sorry, it's gonna be cold for a sec.
no subject
( He likes lazy. He can definitely do lazy. Especially when he can feel Cain press against his side, halfway over him so Jonas can look up at his face and watch him concentrate. It's all easy for this guy and he's grateful for that; one of them has to know what they're doing, and he leans more heavily in his direction for another kiss.
It's brief, settling back down onto his forearms—he's too alert—and a little embarrassed—to lie fully prone, not when this is a position that has him spread for God and everybody to see.
All he can do is breathe deeply for a moment when cool, slick fingers press against his taint, and having never been explored there, he blushes darkly. Grabs for Cain's wrist momentarily. Slowly releases it to console himself with a squeeze of the muscular thigh between his legs. Purses his lips to let out a slow, wavering little breath.
Better. )
Don't stop. I'm—My body just isn't used to— ( Sensation. Pleasure. Anything.
The reminder that Cain shared something similar, that he thinks he might be dead, too, inspires Jonas to kiss up beneath a strong chin, performing a quick reach around to target the cock that'll soon be inside of him. It's nice to have a distraction, guiding the excess skin of Cain's uncut erection down into the first series of preparatory pumps. )
I'm not worried. I'm, uh... I'm excited. I trust you.
no subject
There's a low sound when that hand folds over his cock, taken into a warm fist that works him over in slow strokes. Jonas is a giver, he's learned, so he's not surprised. But the sound in his own throat becomes a growl — unable to keep hips from grinding forward, rubbing himself against Jonas' body in a press of muscle. He may be experienced, but he's holding back to be careful, to slow down. And it's not easy.
I trust you. God, he could get addicted to this boy.]
Mm. [He takes another kiss, this one messier in a smear of lips and blunt teeth, just the faintest pinch.] You're so... fucking hot, J. It's driving me crazy.
[The introduction of a finger isn't delayed, because he knows sometimes waiting makes the tension worse. He just cups his hand between Jonas' thighs and slides the index in, stretching the rim of his hole in a perfect glide of friction that swallows every single knuckle, until the heel of a palm is seated against the curve of his ass. No movement in those first few moments — until a less negligible stretch comes as his middle finger fits in alongside the first, widening the stretch, pushing deep.]
Breathe. [He pushes his face against Jonas' shoulder, nuzzling at a warm throat.] How's it feel?
no subject
Yeah, ( he answers, missing what's asked entirely. He cranes his neck to give Cain easier access to his throat, Adam's apple working as the dry air of the desert is greedily swallowed.
Knowing Cain can feel him tightening and twitching, Jonas tries momentarily to hide his face, embarrassed by how much more involved they're becoming. How desperately he wants this. How in love with him he is. It begins as an ache in his chest, then blooms outward suddenly when the deep stretch and probe of Cain's fingers target places inside of him that make him groan. Reactionarily, his hips automatically tilt to chase it, firming up his grip on Cain's dick. )
Oh, yeah, no, this is... It's better. ( Than his experiments in the shower, alone. Stressed and incompatible with himself. This feels like a poetic do-over, and he gasps into another press down against Cain's hand. ) God, it's way better. Keep... Keep doing... whatever.