He sped up, positioning himself so he could use all his force to claim that ass, to fucking own him. His balls slapped against Augustus’s rough skin as he slammed in, grunting in pleasure. Fire licked at his skin, his insides, his everywhere. He wanted… Oh, how he wanted.
Augustus’s hands dug into his ass, hard enough he’d end up with bruises, but it only added to Quentin’s need. He angled until he hit the right spot head on, conformed by an unintelligible, animalistic sound falling from Augustus’s lips. He fucked him hard and deep until the proud, strong man below him was a whimpering, blabbering mess.
“P-p-please!”
He was begging. Augustus was begging him. For what, he probably didn’t even know himself. But Quentin did. He fisted the man’s thick cock with one hand, jerked him off hard. “Let go, baby. Fly for me.”
And flying, he did. Augustus came undone, shouting, his head thrown back, his eyes pinched shut, his whole body shaking like a leaf as he spurted all over Quentin’s hand and his own chest.
That sight was too much for Quentin, and his balls pulled up tight against his body. Seconds later, he came, buried to his balls inside that strong body.
“Q-q-quentin,” Augustus half sobbed. “Q-q-quentin…”
Too spent and tired to hold himself up any longer, Quentin dropped his weight on top of Augustus, knowing he could take it. His slick cock slipped out, but it was okay. Fuck, they were more than okay.
He scooted slightly higher, finding his favorite spot on that broad shoulder, nuzzling Augustus’s neck and beard. “You were so perfect, baby, so perfect. God, the way you fit around me.”
Augustus’s right hand came to rest on his ass, the other on his neck, scratching softly. “I d-d-didn’t know it c-could be l-like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’ve always b-been an outcast, b-b-but with you, I f-f-fit.”
14
It didn’t often happen anymore that Augustus got frustrated with his inability to speak. He’d gotten so used to it that he was usually content to have the perfect words in his mind alone, knowing they’d never be released into the world. But right now, he wished with all his might he’d be able to tell Quentin how he felt because it was so big and beautiful his heart was bursting.
“Q-quentin,” he started, then sighed in frustration.
Quentin leaned up and looked at him, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I know, baby. I don’t need your words. It was perfect. You were perfect.”
“You w-w-were…” How did he describe this overwhelming sensation of being exactly who and what and where he was supposed to be? Of fitting in, for the first time ever in his life. Of feeling wanted and cherished and more beautiful than he’d thought possible because of the heat in Quentin’s eyes. “You w-were everything.”
Quentin stared at him for the longest time. “Was it okay, the way I talked to you?”
Augustus frowned. What was Quentin worried about? He tried to remember what he’d said specifically, but nothing stood out, except that it had been dirty and arousing as fuck and had made him want infinitely more.
“I sometimes forget that you don’t know what’s…normal in gay relationships. No, not normal, that was not the right word. Common, maybe? Traditional? Does that make sense?”
Augustus slowly shook his head. “What w-was d-d-different?’
Just then, Quentin’s stomach rumbled. Augustus tried to hold back, but then he chuckled. “I’d better g-get my ass into the k-kitchen and make you s-s-some food.”
Quentin sighed. “This is beyond embarrassing. Sorry.”
Augustus kissed his head. “D-d-don’t ap-pologize. I l-love taking c-care of you.”
“You really do, don’t you?” Quentin said with wonder. He dropped a quick kiss on Augustus’s lips. “Let me clean you up.” Quentin got up and went to the bathroom.
Augustus’s ass was weirdly sticky, and something was dripping out of his ass. Right, that would be cum. What a strangely erotic sensation.
His ass hurt a bit, he concluded. Not unbearable by any standard. More like a sting, like how muscles felt you hadn’t used in a while after exertion. Which would make sense, obviously, since he’d used muscles he had never been put into play before.
Quentin came back with a warm washcloth and gently cleaned Augustus’s chest. He walked back to rinse out the cloth, then returned to wipe his dick and balls and lastly his ass. Augustus could’ve easily done it himself, but he liked it that Quentin did. Lying there, all naked and spread out for him, he’d never thought he’d feel this way, but he loved it. Like he was Quentin’s, to do with as he pleased. It was a strange thought that made him happy.
Quentin meanwhile cleaned up himself, then pulled Augustus up from the couch. That move sent a bit of a smart through his ass again. Quentin’s beautiful lips curved. “You feeling your ass, big guy?”
He nodded.
“Is it really horrible of me to say that I kinda like that?”
Augustus grinned, putting on his clothes.
“Aw, you’re not cooking naked?” Quentin complained. “But I’d looked forward to watching your gorgeous ass while you cooked, imagining everything I want to do to it…”
Augustus’s cock did a manly attempt at being interested, then gave up. Sadly, he was not twenty anymore like Quentin. “N-n-no naked ass in the k-kitchen. W-wouldn’t want t-t-to spill s-something hot on m-my dick.”
“Okay, good point.” He slapped Augustus’s butt. “Off you go, baby. Make us some food.”
Augustus was halfway to the kitchen when it hit him. This was what Quentin had been referring to: him bossing Augustus around. That was what was supposedly not common.
He slowly turned around and found Quentin watching him, his eyes slightly widened, which affirmed Augustus’s suspicion. Saying shit like this came naturally to Quentin, but for some reason, it shouldn’t. But why the hell not?
Was it because being told what to do made you…inferior, maybe? Less than the other person? But that wasn’t how it made him feel. He didn’t mind it at all. Strike that. He liked it when Quentin got bossy. Maybe it was the way Quentin took charge, but it made Augustus feel like he was cared for, like someone valued him enough to invest in him. Plus, he actually loved taking care of Quentin, to make him happy. And a bossy Quentin was a happy Quentin; that much was clear. So Augustus was more than content to listen, to follow, to… He was searching for another word but couldn’t find it.
“Sorry,” Quentin said, tension dripping from his voice.
With three steps, Augustus closed the distance between them. He wanted to hug Quentin, to show him it was okay, but when he stood inches away from him, he reconsidered. Quentin’s eyes showed fear. Not of Augustus hurting him, of that he was convinced. No, they showed something Augustus was all too familiar with. Fear of rejection. Quentin was afraid he was gonna get turned down, maybe even sent away for what he’d said and done.
And so Augustus did the only thing he could think of to show this beautiful man that he wanted Quentin exactly the way he was, that Augustus needed him to be himself. He sank to his knees at Quentin’s feet, lifting his head proudly. His knees hit the floor with a thud, and another sting shot through his ass, but he held his head high, wanting to focus on Quentin’s eyes.