[Matt hums quietly at Lance's initial protests, ducking forward to kiss at the side of his neck, slow and gentle, careful not to leave any marks. He's more than a little relieved that the younger boy has gotten over his initial skittishness, has opened his mind to the idea that being close and affectionate can be good. Because it is, it's soothing and nice, half-floating in the almost-warm water, nuzzling over Lance's soft skin, loving the distinct human taste of it, salty and sunkissed and perfect.
He feels perfect too, created and shaped with the utmost care to respond so sweetly to Matt's fingers inside him, no longer hesitant but opening eagerly to the skillful, practiced penetration. Matt's been with other concubines, and most anatomy is universal -- it makes it easier to breed, to carry and deliver without complications -- but there are things that are uniquely human, uniquely Lance. He's tighter than Matt, he alternately tenses and bucks his narrow hips for more, his body is tangibly hungry for more, and Matt murmurs his wordless apology for not being able to give it. There are some things he's no longer able to provide.
But he knows -- knew, knew very well -- Shiro, and though the memories are laced with heartache, they're sweet all the same. So Matt moves his other arm to lace around Lance's slim waist, pulls him closer, bites where his neck and shoulder meet and murmurs, all while thrusting two, then three fingers inside him:] I remember. I remember that control. That noble self-sacrificing leadership.
[He pauses, thumbs at Lance's clit, harder than before, relentless, whispering:] I remember what he got like when he let go of it. It's just like you imagine, Lance -- his hands, his mouth. He could take you to pieces with them. All without even taking his clothes off.
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He feels perfect too, created and shaped with the utmost care to respond so sweetly to Matt's fingers inside him, no longer hesitant but opening eagerly to the skillful, practiced penetration. Matt's been with other concubines, and most anatomy is universal -- it makes it easier to breed, to carry and deliver without complications -- but there are things that are uniquely human, uniquely Lance. He's tighter than Matt, he alternately tenses and bucks his narrow hips for more, his body is tangibly hungry for more, and Matt murmurs his wordless apology for not being able to give it. There are some things he's no longer able to provide.
But he knows -- knew, knew very well -- Shiro, and though the memories are laced with heartache, they're sweet all the same. So Matt moves his other arm to lace around Lance's slim waist, pulls him closer, bites where his neck and shoulder meet and murmurs, all while thrusting two, then three fingers inside him:] I remember. I remember that control. That noble self-sacrificing leadership.
[He pauses, thumbs at Lance's clit, harder than before, relentless, whispering:] I remember what he got like when he let go of it. It's just like you imagine, Lance -- his hands, his mouth. He could take you to pieces with them. All without even taking his clothes off.