He crawled onto him, wedging himself between Dagan’s parted thighs until his hips, his balls, his prick pressed into Dagan’s tightly. Dagan squirmed again, reaching for his hair and fisting it with both hands. “Sweetheart,” he huffed against Hen’s lips. “You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful. I can hardly believe you’re real.”
“You’ve helped me find so many things I thought I lost,” Hen whispered, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against Dagan’s. “So many things I didn’t even know I’d lost.”
Dagan wrapped his legs around Hendrik, hooking his feet behind his back, and tugged at his hair. “You never lost them. They were always with you.”
“I don’t know. But it’s happening again.” Hen kissed his neck, then bit at it but gently. “Can I suck your cock, Dagan?”
Dagan shuddered, breath catching audibly.
Hen added, “It’s okay if you don’t—”
“I do,” Dagan interrupted, this time with a wild laugh. “Of course I do—your mouth is the most perfect torture. Just promise me it’s not a mistake.”
Hen lifted onto his elbows to catch Dagan’s eyes. They were even heavier-lidded than before, with something new and pleading in them. Hen kissed his lips, parting them just slightly before pulling away enough to whisper, “I want to show you how good I feel, with you in my arms. I want to taste what it’s like when you come undone, so I know you understand.”
“Fuck, you’re a poet, today.” Dagan smiled and squeezed with his thighs, lifting his ass and rubbing himself against Hen in the sluttiest, sweetest way.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a fuck yes, darling.”
Dagan’s thighs released him and parted even further as Hendrik slid downward again, to situate himself between his knees. With a satisfied smile, Hendrik took Dagan’s prick in hand, testing the way velvety skin slid over the hard shaft in his hand. Dagan moaned; a high, hungry sound accompanied by an eager roll of his hips. Hen buried his face in Dagan’s inner thigh and palmed his balls again, then ran his tongue over them, onto his dick, and all the way to the purplish head. Fuck, he loved this, everything about this: the moans of pleasure from his Dagan, the sympathetic twitch in his own dick, the knowledge that he was good at giving head, and the idea of showing Dagan how good. He toyed briefly with Dagan’s foreskin, rolling it back with his lips and tounging around it. Nails scraped over Hen’s scalp, fingers fisting in his hair and then pulling just a little. Just enough to trigger a deep, delicious throb in Hen’s prick, trapped between his leg and the mattress and starting to drip in anticipation. Hen breathed out as he went down, until Dagan’s cockhead pushed at the back of Hen’s throat. Dagan thrust upward, and Hendrik responded by going down as far as he could and rolling Dagan’s balls simultaneously.
As someone who enjoyed a finger in his ass while he was on the receiving end of this particular sex act, Hendrik seriously considered searching out Dagan’s hole. The way his thighs had fallen so wide was both trusting and needy, and Hen ached to give him everything all at once. But the tension in Dagan’s body said there was no time for that, and Hendrik aimed to impress and awe. Nothing else would come close to the sensation he was trying to communicate, tonight. The sheer fucking magnitude of grasping the moment, of wanting to live like this forever.
“By the gods, you’re fucking good at that,” Dagan managed, just before he gave a delicious whimper of desperation.
Hen followed his dripping lips with his hand, careful not to get too enthusiastic, but eating up every little sensation: stretched-out lips and jaw, salt against his tongue, pressure at the back of his throat, spit all over his hand and Dagan’s prick, slippery-sticky and divine.
“Ah, fuck me, I’m gonna come, mmmmm.”
Hendrik kept up his rhythm until the last minute, when he went down all the way again and stayed there. Dagan’s hands clenched in his hair as he came with full-body shudders and sweet noises. Hendrik moaned around him. If he so much as touched himself, he was going to douse the coverlet in cum, and then what would they sleep on?
Hendrik swallowed at least twice, then licked him clean: Dagan’s prick, his belly, his thighs. Slowly, deliberately, and while making as much eye contact as possible.
Dagan’s breathless moaning turned into words, eventually. “Come here again, you absolutely fucking glorious man.” And he tugged at Hendrik’s arms.
Hendrik obeyed, going up on his knees and crawling forward to find Dagan’s mouth with his own. They kissed, slow and deep, needing to catch their breath but refusing.
“You’ve had practice, haven’t you?” Dagan said into his lips as they finally closed it off.
“I can’t believe I forgot how much I like giving head,” Hendrik said, smiling against his cheek. “I feel drunk on you.”
Dagan wrapped his hand around Hendrik’s straining prick. “Yes, you do seem enthusiastic.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was as much as Hendrik could force out.
Dagan whispered. “Tell me what you want. Mouth? Hand? Face? Thighs? Where do you want to come, darling? Anywhere.” He rubbed his thumb into the slit of Hen’s dickhead, playing with the precum pooling there.
Hen shuddered and tried to bite back his rising orgasm. “Like this.” He suddenly wanted to hold Dagan, to kiss him while he surrendered. “Just like this. So I can see you. Feel you.”
Dagan nuzzled against his cheek as he took the first long strokes of his dick. “You can ask me for anything, Hen. Anything you want.”
Only the vaguest of concepts filtered through to Hendrik in the moment. Still, the sound of the words was likely as responsible for the depth of the orgasm that followed as Dagan’s hand was.
Chapter 2: Wildcrafter Settlement, Heart Wood
A while later, relatively cleaned up but still blessedly naked in the dark, their caresses continued in a less urgent way. Hendrik found that regardless of whether he needed to get off immediately, he was still fascinated by the look, feel, and taste of Dagan’s skin. He stroked Dagan’s chest, drawing the lines of his muscles and bones and losing himself in them.
Dagan gave a full body stretch, and Hen pulled his hand back. But when the stretch finished, Dagan snuggled closer to him and said, “Don’t stop.”
“I like when you tell me what to do,” Hendrik admitted with a smile. He supposed he’d liked it when Kass did it, too, just different way. Kass was a spoiled brat who knew he was gorgeous enough to get away with anything; it was the part he was playing that meant he was supposed to be bossy. He’d get his way and they were both in on the joke, equally entertained and turned on.
Dagan, on the other hand, wasn’t the kind to give orders, and if he ever did, he’d be the last person to expect it to work.
Hendrik finished with, “But it was sweet when you said I could ask for anything, too. Did you mean it?”
“Oh, yes, please. What else do you like?” Dagan grinned over at him. “Perhaps we should’ve had that discussion first.”
“Perhaps.” Hendrik chuckled and kissed Dagan’s hair. “If I’d known I was going to get that thirsty, I would’ve thought of that, I’m sure.”
Dagan laughed too. “You really did forget, didn’t you?”
“That I love dick? I mean, intellectually, no. But otherwise, yeah, kind of. I just—I couldn’t get interested. Which felt weird, because I don’t think I’ve ever been not horny a day in my life, before.”
“As long as the rediscovery pleases you, I’m very, very happy to be a part of it.” Dagan traced the long burn scar down Hen’s left arm gently, with two fingers. “What part of me do you find most inspiring, out of curiosity?”
Hendrik huffed out another laugh. “The part that’s desperate to be told how beautiful you are.”
