Dagan smiled brightly. “Do you like it?”
Hendrik almost laughed. “Of course I do. It’s beautiful.”
He preened. “Then yes, I’ll keep it down any time you like. It’s a bother in the woods, and most other times, if I’m honest. Can’t bring myself to get rid of it, though.”
“Don’t. And keep it down any time you like,” Hendrik replied, leaning in to kiss it. “And maybe tonight, for me.”
Dagan turned to face him and helped Hendrik remove his shirt. Piece by piece, they stripped down until they were in their shorts and then crawled into bed. The same bed, together, for the first time.
Dagan fell back into the cushions, and Hendrik curled into his side, resting his head on the same pillow. With one finger, he traced Dagan’s navel, then dipped inside it and continued upward. So many times, especially in the last few days, he’d imagined what this might feel like. But the actual feeling of warm skin on skin, the rise and fall of Dagan’s belly beneath his hand, the sensation of his breath against Hendrik’s neck as he turned to look at him…nothing in Hendrik’s imagination could compare.
With a little sigh of contentment, Dagan pressed his forehead to Hendrik’s. “What are you thinking?”
“That if you weren’t so warm, so alive, I’d think you were a golden statue,” Hendrik admitted.
“Mmm, that’s very pretty.” Dagan smiled and rolled onto his side, to face Hendrik more completely.
Hendrik continued his exploration, running his fingers down the dip in Dagan’s side, then over his hip. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing much, honestly. I’m just purring like a cat being petted. Come here.” Dagan chuckled and kissed him gently, running a hand through Hendrik’s freshly cut hair. “Now, stay here,” he muttered into Hendrik’s lips after a moment.
So, he did, and they kissed in the silvery dark, inching closer and closer to each other as their hands searched out soft, sweet, delightful places. Hendrik brushed his palm over the curve of Dagan’s backside, and Dagan tangled his fingers in Hendrik’s hair. Hendrik ran his thumb up the ridge of Dagan’s spine, and Dagan traced the line of Hendrik’s jaw, his throat, his collarbone. The slowness, the deliberateness of the exploration belied the urgency building in Hendrik’s swelling cock with each caress of fingers or lips.
Their legs tangled up first; then the stretched-out fronts of their shorts brushed against each other. They both pushed forward suddenly, pressing hips and bellies into each other. Hendrik rocked, rubbing the length of his prick against Dagan, all instinct and no thought. The way it lit him up, tightened his skin and huffed the air from his lungs, was both familiar and new all at once.
Burning stone, but he’d missed this feeling. The combination of desire and pleasure, the balance between impatience and enjoyment. How had he been without it so long, especially with Dagan right in front of him?
A ridiculous question, of course. Hen knew how. The real wonder was that he’d found it again.
Dagan gave a little moan into their kiss, his own hard prick stirring. “I thought you’d be tired,” he huffed into Hendrik’s ear.
“Are you?” Hendrik asked, nuzzling at his neck, then mouthing it.
“No.” The word was almost a sigh, it was so quiet and breathy. “I know there’s so much going on out there. But my head’s full of you right now.” He slipped his palm between them, tracing the line of Hendrik’s right pec. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah. Very.” Hendrik would’ve begged for Dagan to touch him like this, truth be told. On his knees. In tiny glass shards.
Dagan palmed him, giving a little squeeze, then rubbed at his nipple with a thumb.
Hendrik swallowed a moan as fire shot through his veins.
“Can you tell me what you want?” Dagan whispered.
Hen pushed Dagan’s loose hair from his cheek and buried his hand in it. “As in, right now?”
“Yes. Bearing in mind that this could just be the first night of many. If you—if you like.” A little flinch there, a flash of uncertainty Dagan hadn’t shown yet, with him.
“I do,” Hendrik mumbled into his mouth before kissing him breathless once again. They pressed together as before, front to front, mouth to mouth, hands roaming, hips rocking. Hendrik followed the ridges of Dagan’s ribcage up and up, traced his thumb along the inner curve of his armpit, eliciting a hum of delight that vibrated through the air and directly into Hendrik. He replied at last, lips still brushing against Dagan’s. “I’d like to kiss you everywhere. And see what gets you to make that sound again. If that’s alright with you.”
Dagan smiled into another, quicker kiss as he tightened his belly and snaked his hips. “Yes, please. But if it becomes too much, that’s okay. I’ve got you, remember.” His usual flirty voice was low and breathy, almost raw.
Everything about Dagan, from his smooth skin to his eager humming to the taste of his mouth, felt exquisite. Like that first taste of elderberry wine, a previously unknown luxury that was poised to become an obsession. Hendrik let go of Dagan's hair to take him by the hip and ease him back into the bed. Dagan acquiesced, running his palms over Hendrik’s stomach, his ribs, his chest once more. Hendrik slipped a knee between his long, lean thighs to prop himself up.
Dagan adjusted, pressing up and into Hen before settling back into the mattress. He grabbed Hen’s backside with one hand and licked his lips. “I think I love your ass,” he said with a laugh.
“Good.” He chuckled too, almost surprised to realize he was having an incredible amount of fun. He kissed Dagan’s collarbone, the trail of dark, fine hair that led downward from it, the sparser sprinkling across his pec, a dark, hard nipple that he couldn’t resist tonguing. Dagan hummed again, rocking into his thigh and squeezing his ass, so Hen sucked gently, teasingly.
An easy guess, as erogenous zones went, but Hen was pleased all the same. How gorgeous, to find the right spot, to feel Dagan’s lithe little body respond underneath and against him. Part of Hen was almost waiting for instructions: where to go next, what to do, and how. But the rest of him felt just a touch wild, pathfinding against Dagan’s skin, mapping it out for himself, no plan, no goal. The point where Dagan’s lowest ribs came together at his breastbone, hard and huffing as he struggled to catch his breath. His navel, a pretty little indentation in his flat, faintly furred belly, so beguiling Hen spent a few long seconds kissing and circling it with his tongue, not-so-subtly demonstrating his favorite ass-eating technique. Dagan squirmed and clutched at his hair, making sweet sounds and pressing into his stomach with quiet but satisfying desperation. The place where his stomach muscle sank into the waist of his shorts, a deep, V-shaped valley on either side of his hips. Hendrik kissed the right side, then the left, then slipped his tongue beneath the waist-tie and licked up the whole, beautiful line of it. His fingers toyed with the tie, curious, searching, but hesitating.
Again, Hen realized he was waiting to be told to continue. Hendrik glanced upward to find Dagan propped up on his elbows, watching him from beneath heavy eyelids, pupils blown wide and dark. His skin seemed to glitter in the moonlight; his stomach flexed with each ragged breath. He said, “We don’t have to—”
“Do you want to take it off?” Hen hadn’t meant to interrupt, but his mind was foggy with need. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes.” Dagan chuckled and ran a hand through Hen’s hair. “I do. But I don’t want you to feel like that’s where this has to go. It doesn’t.”
Hen lifted a little higher on one arm and used the other to undo his own shorts, then slide them off his ass. It was bold, a little more confident than he felt, but the rush it gave him was worth it. Fuck, this was so good. How had he forgotten how damned delicious being horny could feel?
Dagan grinned. “Beautiful, darling. Like you read my mind.”
Hen wriggled free of his shorts, undoing the tie of Dagan’s at the same time. Dagan lifted his backside, and Hen tugged them downward, so his dark, hard cock stood free. It was pretty, gracefully proportioned like the rest of his body, smooth with just the slightest hint of a curve that made it appear even more eager for attention. Hendrik fingered the soft patch of hair around it, then slipped his hand beneath to palm Dagan’s balls.
His prick jumped as he squirmed, a little hum of pleasure turning into a full-throated moan, now. “Mmm, oh, fuck.”
As he pulled the shorts lower, Hendrik kissed his way down the inside of Dagan’s thigh. He had the most gorgeous legs, long and tight and so flexible, the way he could fold them up to fit anywhere. Hen mirrored his kisses with touches down Dagan’s other thigh, then lifted his knee to kiss the soft spot behind it.
Dagan laughed and lifted his knee higher, resting the sole of his foot on the bed. Hendrik moved lower, mouthing the jut of his ankle bone, then the soft place behind it. By this time, he had Dagan’s shorts around his feet, so he took them and threw them off the bed with his own. When he turned back, he paused, heart thudding in his ears, mouth watering for another taste, just admiring Dagan. Stretched out like that, one knee propped high and falling wide, as if drawing Hendrik into him, deceptively delicate hands trailing against his own belly, the lines and planes of his chest rising and falling with hard breaths and little sounds of joy and need and pleasure. His hair splashed all over the pillow like an inky puddle. His prick, impatient and full, gave a little twitch when he tightened his stomach or snaked his hips invitingly.
It was just a moment. It would be over soon, and then it’d pass into memory, and inevitably fade away. But in that moment, in the here and now, Hendrik recalled some part of himself that he hadn’t thought of, let alone experienced, in a very long time. Dagan was laid out like a feast, just for him, and all he wanted was to eat him up again and again. He felt fucking alive, and he knew exactly how he wanted to share that feeling.
