Dom did some queer shit in prison but none of it was like this. He never gave a shit about the guys he fucked. It was all posturing and, to a degree, protecting. There were a lot of cases where he was a better choice than the other options to a weaker inmate. There had been a few incidents where he had to prove himself to be the bigger man, which was all bullshit.
This thing with Brian is different. They can’t work things the same because of Brian’s paralysis and the fact that about 85% of the time, he can’t get hard or feel jack shit below the waist and that’s because he’s lucky. Some guys have zero sensitivity. Zilch. But pounding away down there probably won’t do much and anyway, the kissing and touching’s been pretty good so far. It’s just that Dom wants to have sex. Actual sex. Fuck political correctness. Fucking is fucking and he wants there to be fucking in his relationship.
So for Brian he'll try bottoming. He’ll do it since he's not sure how else they can have sex besides blow jobs, and that would be making Brian do all the work and he's not that guy. He prides himself on being a generous lover. So fucking. With him catching. That’s what’s going to happen.
That is fine. Good even. This isn't the barrio. Dom’s not going to get shamed or shot for wanting the D.
Hell, they're in Spain now. Europeans don't give a shit who does what in bed.
He can do what he wants okay and it’s not like anyone is going to look into their bed room and judge them for how they fuck right? Goddamn right. So, yeah okay. He can do this.
If he maybe does some googling so what? He's a grown ass man. He can do what he wants. He's free. That’s been the point of all this outlaw shit.
Dom willfully does not do any pre-fuck recon work. He’s got a feeling that if he tries to shove a finger up there, he'll psych himself out. So Dom just gets himself familiar with the basics and orders black-market Viagra and high-quality lube. Both come wrapped in brown paper. Leaving both in their innocuous packaging he shoves them at Brian and just says, “Here,” before dropping them into his lap and marching into Brian’s bedroom.
Then he sits on Brian’s bed and wonders if maybe this wasn't a huge fucking mistake because making out and hand jobs were fine. They were.
“Don’t get cute. You know what it is.”
Brian looks down at the pills and lube, then up at Dom with a smile and oh. Oh right there. That’s why he’s doing it. Brian’s sunshine smile and Santa Monica surf eyes all glowing at him making him so goddamn hard that his entire body feels stretched taught.
“You are a nut job.”
“Shut up or--” He trails off.
Brian laughs. “You were totally going to make a nut pun there. Weren’t you?”
“I thought better of it.”
“C’mere.” He pulls Dom forward by the shirt, off the bed and almost on top of him. Then he pops the cap on the pill bottle, takes two, and says, “Help me into bed. We’ve got forty-five minutes to kill.”
An hour later, when Dom is riding Brian’s cock, groaning and grunting at how surprisingly good it feels to be this full, he barely has room to think that this was a good idea. He’s too caught up in Brian’s open mouth and bright eyes and sweaty golden hair. He’s too busy coming his brains out. He shakes his way through it with his hand wrapped around Brian’s fist like a gear shaft, reduced to little more than a physical response to do much of anything.
Later, though, later he’s a little smug. He earned it, yeah? Brian actually has something like an orgasm, sort of. He shakes through the last stretch and his pecs twitch with pleasure spasms that he says are all over “You, you’re beautiful, Dom, you’re so gorgeous, oh my god oh my god,” So yeah. That ain’t half bad if he does say so himself.
He’s a pretty damn good planner, okay, because when he lies next to Brian, sticky and panting, he remembers that Viagra can last three to four hours. When he mentions that, Brian laughs at him, short and loud with his head thrown back. The sound is warm like the Mediterranean sun outside their window.