Fredric chuckled, but the sound had a little bit of strain to it, like he was holding back. He reached for Ilan’s face and then urged him into a kiss that lingered and lingered and lingered. “Wash me?” he murmured as Ilan pulled away.
Reaching for the soap, Ilan poured the liquid into his hand, letting it lather, and he started at Fredric’s neck. His skin was warm, silky, the soap gliding over him. His head was tipped to the side and water dripped from his long lashes. The grey in his hair blended seamlessly into the black, and for a moment he looked like an old Grecian statue in the British Museum. Alabaster, flawless, timeless.
Ilan dragged his hand down to where Fredric was starting to swell, and he pushed soap into his coarse curls before dragging a single stroke up his cock.
“God,” Fredric gasped, and he arched against Ilan.
“I want to do more,” Ilan told him. He was aching for it, aching to feel himself sink into Fredric. He wanted to be the first, he wanted to give him everything, to be the baseline to which he compared every experience after that.
And the part of him that was combusting with possessiveness wanted him to be the last. The only.
His hand trailed down Fredric’s back, then between his cheeks where he circled his hole. “Do you still want this?”
“Yes,” Fredric said, something in his tone like a sob. His fingers dug hard into Ilan’s waist. “I want to feel you.”
Ilan was trembling with need, but he forced himself to take his time, to clean off the last remnants of the afternoon from both their bodies before reaching for the handle and turning the water off. He grabbed towels from the hooks, and the pair of them dried off.
“I’ll take it,” Ilan said when Fredric was done, and the older man hesitated, holding the towel at his waist.
“My clothes…”
“No one’s going to see. The blinds are closed, and Bas is probably on the couch sleeping.” Ilan stepped in toward him and curled his hand around the one Fredric was using to grip the towel. “If you’re nervous, we can stop here. I want you, but I don’t want to push.”
Fredric’s eyes closed, lashes fanning just below them. “I do. I’ve touched myself, I’ve used toys on myself. It’s not new,” he said, and Ilan’s breath caught in his throat as he imagined Fredric lying on his bed writhing and fucking himself. “But it’s different.”
“Yes,” Ilan said. His fingers stroked over Fredric’s tense knuckles. “And remember, we have all the time in the world. This isn’t going away tonight. Or tomorrow.”
“Or in ten minutes,” Fredric said, and he pushed the towel into Ilan’s hand before stepping out past him.
Ilan felt a rush, even as he grinned at Fredric’s sudden, bold move, and he threw everything aside and took his hand to draw him back into the bedroom. The heater was on, and the room was pleasantly warm with the windows shut and the fan off. Ilan pushed the door shut as they passed by it, then he carefully made his way to the bed with Fredric at his side.
“Lie down,” he said. “I’m going to get lube and a condom.” He wanted to lay Fredric out himself, to spread him out on the sheets and kiss every inch of his skin until the tension left him. But he knew if he dragged it out, one of them was going to lose their nerve.
He’d never set a lot of stock in anal, but this felt like more than sex. It was giving, it was taking. It was letting go of compromise and accepting that they could have pleasure without it costing anything. The moment held as much weight as their sex the night before. It felt just as important. Just as new.
A first.
He walked back into the bathroom for the lube and the little box that had three condoms left in the strip. What he wanted was to sink into Fredric bare, but he knew better. A single test after his last hook-up wasn’t enough, and PrEP or not, he wasn’t going to take any risks. Not with this man.
Turning back to the room, Ilan’s breath caught in his throat when he found Fredric lying on his back. His left arm was at his side, his legs crooked up with his heels digging into the bed. He had his right hand around his dick, and he was stroking slowly.
“Are you watching me?” Fredric asked, and Ilan smiled with just a hint of guilt.
“I was. I can’t help it. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He laid one knee on the bed, then dragged his free hand down the inside of Fredric’s thigh, unable to take his gaze away from the way he was fisting his cock. “I could watch this all day.”
“Someday,” Fredric said, his chest hitching on his exhale, his hips gently writhing, “I want you to lie here and pleasure yourself while I listen. I want to hear you make yourself come apart.”
Ilan’s eyes rolled back, and he fought down a groan as he pushed himself between Fredric’s spread legs. He dropped the lube and condoms off to the side, then dragged flat palms down Fredric’s thighs before pushing his hand out of the way and taking his dick in one hand, cupping his balls in the other.
“I will do anything you want,” he said, and he was startled at just how much he meant that in the moment. “Anything you ask.”
Fredric’s grin was a little feral, but he didn’t make any unreasonable demands. Instead, he reached down and pulled his legs up and exposed himself fully to Ilan. It was so much. He had to look away for a long second, then he pressed the pads of two fingers against his hole. It was tight, coarse with hair, clenching with anticipation. He stroked a gentle circle around it without any pressure, and he watched the way Fredric’s body responded to every single touch.
He looked like he was on the edge, and Ilan considered making him come first, but he knew Fredric had wanted to wait—to feel all of this, to try and reach that climax while he was full. With a gentle hand, he spread Fredric just a little bit farther, then he grabbed the lube and cracked the top with the side of his teeth. It killed him to let go of Fredric’s dick, but he poured out a generous amount and warmed it for as long as he could. Taking his slick, dripping middle finger, he held his breath, and pushed it inside.
The noise from Fredric sounded almost inhuman—raw, filled with a sort of agonized pleasure. His chest arched, and his left hand trembled and shook. Ilan couldn’t take his eyes off Fredric’s face, off the flush rising over his neck, off his eyes closed and dancing back and forth behind his lids like the force of his pleasure wouldn’t allow a single part of him to keep still.
He stayed like that until he felt just the barest bit of give, and then he pushed until he was all the way inside. “Okay?” he asked.
Fredric swallowed thickly twice before he could speak. “Yes. I…more?”
It came out like a question, so Ilan withdrew his finger, added more lube, and then pressed the tips of his first and middle finger together, just to the first knuckle. Fredric let out a sharp gasp, but he no longer felt like he was fighting Ilan. No, he was pushing back, wordlessly asking for more, for deeper. For all of it.
Ilan groaned as he gave, as he leaned on one arm and pushed with the other until the curl of his ring finger and pinky brushed his ass cheeks. He watched as the hole stretched around him, as it opened, felt it relax until Ilan thought maybe he could make his way inside.
He was big—but not impossibly so. His dick was not intimidating, it was just needy, throbbing between his legs as he waited for what was coming next. “Are you ready for me?” he finally asked, and Fredric nodded.