‘Harry,’ Iain says, licking his lips, ‘you have to understand. I’m not going to live to my majority. I’ll be killed. My very existence is … enormously inconvenient. I didn’t want to die without knowing what pleasure was.’
‘Tell me,’ Harry says. ‘What it’s like.’
‘With a girl?’ Iain asks.
‘With a boy,’ Harry says. ‘What you like.’
‘Jesus, Lyon,’ Iain groans, his head flopping back. ‘I’m trying to last until you leave.’
‘And I said you didn’t have to,’ Harry replies, slowly starting to move his hand over his cock.
Iain notices the motion and his lips open in a little ‘o’ of surprise. He swallows, and moves his own hand down to his dick. ‘Uh, there’s a lot, there’s a lot that’s the same. I like … I like messing people up so bad they can’t even speak. Some girls, and some boys, you can make ’em come just from playing with their nipples, sucking on them, biting them, blowing on them. Pin their arms above their head and use your mouth on ’em – for a boy moving down and sucking his dick, Harry, the first time a boy or girl takes your dick in their mouth, you’ll swear you’ve found paradise, Jesus, you have no idea how good it is.’
Harry groans, and moves his hand faster. ‘Don’t stop,’ he gasps, between strokes.
‘Me … God’s breath, Harry, are you sure you want to hear this?’
‘Yes,’ Harry says, his voice thick.
Iain exhales, nervous and long. ‘I like to be fucked. I love it when a boy takes me in his mouth, and then sticks his tongue in my arse, and opens me up for his cock, and then just pounds into me, Harry, you wouldn’t believe how hard I come, it’s like I die for a moment, it feels so incredible if he’s doing it right, he doesn’t even need to touch my cock …’
‘Nngh,’ Harry says. He can’t take his eyes off Iain, who’s arched up off his pallet, staring back at Harry, the moonlight lining his lean form with silver as he strokes himself and babbles the filthiest things Harry has ever heard. It’s taking all Harry’s self-control not to crash into Iain and finish him off himself.
‘ … And if he’s decent sized, you feel it all the next day, this little soreness, these sparks of pleasure that last long after the act. There’s this spot, up there inside you, and Harry if you’ve never found it you need to, because once you do you’ll come like a fucking beast, I swear … Jesus, Harry, I’m aching for it so bad, talking about it is killing me, wanna be fucked …’
And then Iain pushes out of his braies and sticks two fingers in his mouth and trails them down the side of his chest, past the hand stroking that big cock of his, and further still, until he sticks them up inside himself. Iain’s face is almost religious in its ecstasy then. Those fingers start thrusting back and forth inside of him and Harry has to swallow hard and grab on to his own cock because it is the single most erotic thing he has ever seen.
‘Keep talking,’ Harry says, his own brain so muzzy with pleasure he can barely think to form the words.
Iain moans, ragged and wanton. ‘You enjoying the show, Harry?’
‘God yes,’ Harry whispers.
‘Is that your pleasure?’ Iain murmurs. ‘Do you like to watch? Tell me what—nngh, oh God—tell me what you like, Harry. Get me off on your words.’
Harry’s brain goes sideways. He’s had no experience beyond his own hand and a couple of fumbled kisses with that serving-girl, feeling her breasts and between her legs. And Iain’s naked in the moonlight, looking like some sort of faerie prince, and Harry can’t decide what turns him on more, watching those fingers go in and out of Iain, or the expression on his face—
‘I … I want to fuck you,’ Harry stutters.
‘Then get over here,’ Iain growls.
Harry gets up, trips over the breeches pooled around his ankles, falls onto his knees, kicks the fabric off him, and then since he’s on the ground already he decides to crawl over to Iain. Iain has stopped stroking himself, stopped everything, and is just kneeling and watching Harry come towards him with amazed desire on his face. When Harry gets close enough, Iain whines and grabs him by the back of the hair, crashing their lips together.
The kiss is over far too soon, and Harry moans his disappointment. Which turns into almost a scream as Iain sucks one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth. Harry has to stick his fist in his own mouth, because he’s already on the edge of coming, so turned on by the filth spilling out of Iain’s lips, and now Iain’s using those lips on one nipple while the other nub is being pinched and rolled between his fingers. Harry jerks like he’s having a seizure, grabbing Iain’s hair and yanking, which earns him a fuck, yes from Iain.
Then Iain continues his way down Harry’s stomach, and Harry has a moment to realise what’s about to happen before Iain puts his mouth over Harry’s cock and sinks down, slowly, until his lips bump against the base.
At this point, Harry doesn’t even know what he’s saying.
Just that.
Iain wasn’t kidding.
About paradise.
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to come. ‘Iain,’ he moans. ‘Please, I need to fuck you.’
Iain pulls off his cock, and says, ‘Ssh, a sheòid, I need you in me so bad I can’t even tell you. I just have to get you good and wet first.’ His voice is husky and Harry thinks: fuck his nipples, he could probably get off on Iain’s dirty talk alone. Hell, he almost already did.
Iain gets Harry’s cock coated with saliva and then shifts back, throwing his good leg over Harry’s shoulder and pulling Harry down
