‘Wait,’ Harry says.
‘I swear to God, Harry, if you’re telling me we have to stop now—’ Iain begins, but Harry silences him with a kiss.
‘Just wait,’ he whispers, and glances around the room. One of the servants has already brought up his saddlebags; they’re on the carved chest near the door. Harry slides off the bed and walks over, one hand on his erection to hold it against his stomach. He pulls out the waxcloth-wrapped package and brings it back to bed.
The cloth falls away in Iain’s hands, revealing the bottle of scented oil. ‘I want—’ Harry begins.
Iain looks up at him, and the naked wonder and adoration in his face is enough to shatter something within Harry, another wall, another barrier between them. ‘What do you want, Harry?’ he murmurs.
Harry feels the blush climbing to his cheeks. ‘I want you to show me the place inside me. The place that feels good.’
Iain’s mouth opens in surprise, and then he kisses Harry very gently on the forehead, then his eyes, then his cheekbones, then down to his mouth. As he does this, Iain uses his bulk to push Harry gradually further onto the bed, on his back. ‘Yes,’ Iain breathes with each kiss.
When Harry is lying down in the middle of the bed, Iain reclines on his side and drags one hand all the way down Harry, reverently. ‘You’re like an angel, you know,’ Iain whispers. ‘My golden angel.’ Then he untwists the stopper on the bottle of oil. ‘This feels strange at first,’ he says, his voice more serious. ‘But trust me.’
Harry nods. ‘I do,’ he whispers, watching Iain spread oil over two of his fingers.
Iain ghosts his fingers down over Harry’s cock, and Harry hisses and bucks his hips into the stimulation. Then he’s running his fingers down over Harry’s balls, and back further, to where the hair grows sparser.
Harry gasps as he feels Iain’s index finger pressing against his hole. Iain uses his other hand to shift Harry onto his side, against him, so they’re almost chest to chest. Their cocks bump against each other, both silky and solid at the same time, and that makes Harry’s breath hitch as well.
He groans as Iain’s finger begins to press inside him. Iain breathes soft shushing noises at him, as if Harry were a horse he was trying to calm. Harry writhes under the pressure. As he shifts, his cock rubs up against Iain’s, and it sparks up every nerve in his body.
Iain pulls out of him to put some more oil on his fingers, spreading it around his hole, and Harry finds he misses the intrusion. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it is incredibly intimate. When Iain replaces his fingers, Harry presses down on them, and grits his teeth. Now there are two, pushing in.
Iain kisses the furrow between his brows, making Harry aware of it. Harry tries to relax. Then Iain presses those fingers in even further, and turns them, and—
—Harry arches, gasping in surprise.
He can only see half of Iain’s face, but the man’s pale eyes glint mischievously and he’s smirking at Harry. ‘Mmm?’ Iain hums.
‘Fuck,’ Harry breathes, pushing back on Iain’s fingers. ‘Do that again.’
Iain stares right into his eyes, pulls his fingers out about half an inch, and shoves them in harder. He hits the exact same place as before.
Harry tries to hold Iain’s gaze but his eyes roll back in his head as a wanton moan rips through him. Then Iain loosely circles their cocks with his free hand, pushing them together, letting the movement of his fingers in Harry’s bottom and his reaction to it rub them off against each other. He’s finger-fucking Harry mercilessly now, rubbing the spot within him that’s sending wave after wave of dizzying sensation through Harry, who can’t do anything but shut his eyes and hang on for the ride.
‘Oh God,’ Harry moans. ‘I see why you love this. Nngh.’
And Iain is whispering to him, ‘That’s it, a sheòid, let yourself go, you look so good, you’re taking it so well,’ and Harry could come from the stimulation on his cock or the stimulation in his arse alone, but both is so much, and yet not enough.
Harry opens his eyes. ‘I want you,’ he says, his voice rough and sex-wrecked as his body falls out of his control, quivering on the hits of pleasure rolling through it.
‘You have me,’ says Iain.
‘No,’ mumbles Harry, shaking his head. Words are hard. ‘I want you in me.’
Iain slows his assault on Harry’s arse, as doubt crosses his face. ‘Harry, I’m not really the man for your first time. I’m—’
‘Huge, I know,’ Harry growls. ‘Now stop acting like I’m delicate, and fuck me.’
Iain glares at him, and without warning shoves three fingers into him.
Harry arches, gasping, overfull. ‘Are you sure?’ Iain asks, drawing those fingers all the way out and then ramming them in again. ‘Because it’s even more than this.’
‘Yes,’ Harry says through gritted teeth, shoving himself back onto Iain’s hand. ‘Yes.’
‘Christ’s blood,’ Iain says. ‘You’re unbelievable.’ Then he’s tilting his head up to kiss Harry’s mouth, down his neck, biting and sucking at his nipples, all the while fucking Harry on his fingers. Harry is writhing, wanting to pull himself away from that mouth and thrust himself into it at the same time, until he feels his orgasm building inside him and he pushes himself away from Iain before it gets out of what little control he has left.
‘Now,’ he orders.
‘As you desire,’ Iain says, his eyes shining. ‘Get on your hands and knees. It’s easier that way.’ He helps arrange Harry, keeping a hand on him at all times, gently rubbing his flank, up his back, down his thigh. ‘I don’t get to do this a lot,’ he murmurs from behind Harry, as he spreads more of the oil on his cock and on Harry’s hole. ‘Casual fucks behind a stable don’t usually … they take one look and they say, no way.’
Harry
