Iain’s fingers twist into Harry’s hair and he touches their foreheads together, looking him in the eyes as he thrusts down hard once, twice, and then he’s coming, his eyelids fluttering, and Harry is too because Iain’s entire body clenches down on him and it’s—
Nothing.
Will ever.
Equal.
This.
And he presses his lips into Iain’s, and they’re not kissing, just shuddering against each other, clutching as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through them, and Iain whispers always into his mouth.
They curl up together on the rock and nap in the morning sunshine after that, Iain in Harry’s arms, where he belongs.
Harry is going to get up and start getting dressed, before half of Dartington comes looking for him, but Iain’s lying there, and he’s a little bit hard again. Harry kisses his way down Iain’s body, because he can. He bites at Iain’s nipples, sucking them, and he hears Iain come awake with a gasp. And so he trails his kisses down faster, brushing his lips along Iain’s abs, along the crease of his hip, and down to his cock.
He smiles as his lips wrap over Iain’s head, and he takes him into his mouth. Iain arches his neck, moaning and trying to push his hips up further, to make Harry take him deeper. But Harry pushes off him. ‘No. Get up. Lean against that tree,’ Harry orders.
Iain nods, rising gracefully and walking off the rock onto the shore. He keeps a hand on his cock, pressing it against his belly as he walks. Then when he reaches the oak tree that Harry indicated, he places his back against it, spreading his long legs for balance. His eyes never leave Harry as he stalks towards him.
Harry sinks to his knees and looks up at Iain through his lashes. He knows what he is doing is an exorcism of sorts, but that still doesn’t lessen how much he wants to do it. Ever since that morning in the solar, he’s known how much he loves taking Iain’s dick in his mouth. ‘I want you to use me,’ Harry breathes, and the spark of lust and fear he sees in Iain’s eyes is enough to make him need to put his hand on his own cock. He licks his lips, getting them good and wet. ‘Use my mouth.’
Iain whimpers, a hand combing through Harry’s hair as his other hand guides the head of his cock into Harry’s mouth. He starts thrusting, shallowly, as Harry wraps his lips around Iain’s shaft and sucks.
Iain’s being too gentle. Harry glares at him and growls, then sinks all the way down on Iain’s cock, choking on it, feeling it hit the back of his throat and then some. He digs his fingers into the hard muscles of Iain’s thigh as he pulls all the way off Iain’s cock, kissing the head and then going straight back down again.
He hears Iain make a noise of wonder above him, and then finally, Iain’s hands go around his head, holding it in place, as he begins to thrust into his mouth. He’s still too gentle at first, and Harry has half a mind to lift his lip so he gets a bit of tooth dragged across him for his trouble. Then something snaps in Iain. The only warning Harry has is a tightening of Iain’s fingers in his hair, so tight it’s almost painful, and then a low, rumbling grunt as Iain thrusts all the way in.
Harry is so damn hard it hurts. Iain is using his mouth, his throat, blind to nothing but his own pleasure, his eyes glassy as he looks down at his cock going in and out of Harry. There’s something in Harry that wants to worship Iain, to give himself completely to him but also possess him at the same time, and letting Iain face-fuck him like this hits every facet of Harry’s darkest desires and then some.
Iain’s thumb moves down to Harry’s jaw, feeling how open his mouth is, pressing into Harry’s cheek so he can feel himself on the other side, thrusting down Harry’s throat. ‘Fuck,’ Iain moans, thrusting harder, faster, until he pulls Harry so hard against him that Harry’s nose is buried in Iain’s groin and Harry has a moment to register that Iain’s cock is somehow even thicker, even harder, before Iain is coming down his throat with a ragged cry.
Harry feels him soften in his mouth, and slump against the tree. He pulls off Iain, wiping the saliva and come off his mouth with his forearm. ‘We’re not done,’ he says.
Iain looks up at him, a question in his eyes.
Harry glances at the tree. The bark of the oak will be too hard against Iain’s front. ‘On your hands and knees,’ Harry says, holding a hand over his own cock, purple with arousal.
Iain’s lips quirk into a dirty grin and he whispers, ‘As you command,’ and falls to all fours, facing away from Harry. He spreads his legs and then just about screams as Harry grabs his rear, forcing his cheeks apart.
Harry pushes back into Iain, back into the loose, hot mess of his own come and spit from their sex an hour before. He groans as he bottoms out in one long, fluid thrust. And then he pulls almost all the way out, grabs Iain’s hips and rams himself home again.
Iain moans, and Harry reaches a hand forwards to pull his long hair. ‘That good? That what you want?’ he asks.
Iain nods as much as he can with Harry holding onto his hair. ‘Oversensitive. Too much,’ he breathes. ‘But don’t stop,’ he finishes.
Harry smiles, and drops a kiss between his shoulder blades before ramming home again. He pounds into Iain, using
