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i told you so

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There’s a dick inside him.

It’s not- a strange thought. It’s not like this had never crossed his mind, not like he’d never pressed his fingers inside himself just to see what all the fuss was about--because he’s definitely done that. It’s just- surprising.

It’s not something he’d explored in his early days of feeling out his sexuality--he was a big guy, tall and bulky and taciturn and most people he hooked up with wanted plenty of things from him, just- not that. And he was fine with it, really, never particularly felt like he was missing out. It just wasn’t for him, and then any interest he’d had in it snuffed out along with any semblance of confidence he had when his ex dropped the you’re bad in bed bomb.

After that, just finding someone to hook up with was more stress than it was worth, and finding someone to try something new with was about as far off the table as anything could be.

It’d been a slip of the tongue that led him to the realization that Pascal might be interested, a drunken stumble taken out of context, but once his curiosity reignited there was no snuffing it out again. He thought about it and thought about it until he stumbled through an offer--request? he doesn’t want to call it a request--in the SUV. Being turned down had stung, briefly, balmed by Pascal assuring him of his interest, but he’ll admit that watching Pascal take him, watching Pascal enjoy taking him had made his curiosity bleed into genuine want.

And so he thought about it and he thought about it and Kel and her wards ripped him to shreds and then he thought about it some more. He agonizes, wonders if Pascal will change his mind; he’s too busy to be worrying about it but he does because now they have a hotel room and a bed and a habit of fucking before they sleep and finally, finally they come home after a meal and Pascal kisses him so hard his knees go weak, crawls over him on the bed with bright eyes and a wicked grin and now-

Now there’s a dick in him.

It doesn’t feel like he expected. He didn’t think he’d be so- so sensitive because he’d never been when he fingered himself, but it was different, with Pascal. He could feel every inch of him, feel where his body stretched wide to accommodate and he feels it all the way up to his throat, like everything in him has been emptied out to make room. He breathes in just because he wants to make sure his ribs aren’t splintering however nonsensical that thought is.

“Ricardo.”

Pascal’s voice is quiet but it seems loud in the silent hotel room. Ricardo blinks, squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again, and looks down at Pascal.

He looks a little out of place, so petite, dwarfed by Ricardo’s thighs, and Ricardo can’t imagine what kind of picture they paint. He’d already been significantly bigger than Pascal before he’d started training, and now the difference in their sizes was almost laughable--he can’t imagine they look like they fit. He finds, though, that he doesn’t care, because Pascal looks excited, eyes bright, lips curled up at the corners, watching Ricardo’s face like he can’t get enough.

“Hey,” Ricardo says ineloquently, and Pascal’s grin grows wider.

“Hello!” he says, like he’s not balls deep inside him, “We’ve done it!”

That’s.. one way to put it. Ricardo finds himself snorting, which makes Pascal smile more, which should be impossible, “Yeah,” he says, because apparently he can’t form sentences.

Pascal isn’t done, though. He tilts his head, eyes sparkling, “Aren’t you glad, Ricardo, that it is not in the back of a car!”

Oh, Ricardo thinks, he’s gloating.

He is glad, frankly. Being in a bed somewhere relatively safe had definitely made this whole thing easier. They weren’t hurried, they weren’t in immediate danger, they weren’t folded up in the back seat of a car where Ricardo probably couldn’t have laid down without at least one limb being bent uncomfortably. He can’t imagine he was ready, either, still stressed and tense and barely trusting Pascal not to ditch him the first chance he got. Waiting was definitely the right choice, but Ricardo’s not going to tell Pascal that.

“I mean,” He says, “I guess. I don’t think it made that much of a difference.”

Pascal stares. He stares and stares and then his smile melts into a pout and a glower too cute to be serious.

“You are awful,” He huffs without heat, “Ricardo you are awful.”

Ricardo laughs aloud then, a genuine laugh that shakes his whole body and shifts his hips and shatters into a breathy gasp when a trill of sensation bolts up his spine. “Ah,” he says as his fingers twist into the sheets. He feels Pascal brace a hand on his hip, sees his face wobble and his mouth fall open as he feels it too.

They settle after a moment, and Ricardo’s breathing hard despite not needing to, and he says, “Yeah I'm- I’m awful. Please lets’ do something.”

It’s like he’d forgotten exactly how horny he was until that exact moment. Suddenly, he desperately needs Pascal to move or touch him or kiss him or do something other than sit inside him huge and hard and still.

“Okay,” Pascal says; his face is bright red, “Okay, I- I have to go slow, Ricardo, because it is your first time-”

“Fine, fine,” Ricardo squeezes his eyes shut, so painfully horny he thinks he’s going to burst, “Please just do somethi-”

His words trail off as Pascal draws his hips backwards. It’s- oh, okay, they used probably more lube than was strictly necessary but there’s still a catch, a tug, not enough to hurt but enough to feel. He’s still unused to the sensitivity, to feeling the stretch and the drag, and it’s strange. It’s not bad, just new, and he’s not sure if it feels good but he likes it, more than he’d expected.

Pascal rolls his hips forward and that’s- better. Oh that’s better. A noise Ricardo wasn’t expecting is dragged from his throat, raw and shameless and he arches off the bed, chasing the feeling. Pascal makes a startled noise, like he hadn’t expected Ricardo to react so viscerally, and Ricardo doesn’t blame him because he hadn’t been expecting it himself.

“Oh,” Pascal says breathily, “I do not need to ask if it feels good for you?”

Ricardo presses his hips down as much as he can when he’s prone on the bed, toes curling at the feeling, “You don’t but you- can?” What? He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

Pascal doesn’t seem to mind. “Then does it? Ricardo? Does it feel good for you?”

Ricardo should be embarrassed. He should feel that twist of anxiety, of shame, but he doesn’t, he can’t. He’s enjoying himself, enjoying sex he never thought he’d experience, enjoying seeing Pascal so unwound and excited and attentive. He doesn’t care anymore--maybe he will, later, but that’s not his problem.

“Yes,” His voice is shaky but he’s not faltering, “Yeah, it does, it’s- I don’t know. It’s good.”

Pascal nods, “Good, good. I am- going to move.”

Pascal shifts a little for better leverage, bracing one hand on Ricardo’s waist and the other on his thigh, and his next thrust is more purposeful. It punches the air out of Ricardo’s lungs and he- understands now, why Pascal enjoys this so much, why he falls apart on Ricardo’s dick. His thoughts are shattered, blown three ways from Sunday and all he can think about is the slide of Pascal’s dick inside him, the pinpricks of pain where Pascal grips him so hard his nails dig into his skin.

Pascal moves again, pulls his knees in a little closer and when he fucks back in heat blooms low in Ricardo’s belly and his back is bowing again, lips gaping around a loud, desperate noise he didn’t think he could make.

“Ehe,” Pascal says shakily. His hair is in disarray, falling in front of his face without his hands free to tuck it behind his ears. His eyes are curved up around his smile, teeth flashing with how wide it is, “Ricardo you are so loud.”

“Shut- u-” Ricardo chokes on another moan, and he hears the sheets rip, much to Pascal’s obvious delight, “Shut up. Would you- my chest-”

“I-” Pascal falters, “You are too tall, I would- I would have to stop.”

Ricardo doesn’t want that. His pleasure is mounting faster than he can keep track of it, stopping feels like it would kill him, so he unknots one hand from the sheets and grabs his own tits, squeezing too hard at first and then easing off, thumb slipping dry and rough over his nipple. It’s not comfortable but it’s something, heat bubbling under his skin and compounding with the rush of everything else.

As if in apology, the hand Pascal has squeezing his hip slides down to palm over his dick. And that’s- too much, everything blending together in a rush of sensation, building up and burning and swelling in him until he’s spilling onto his abs. It’s- he can’t say it’s the best orgasm of his life, but it’s one of them. Heat pours molten and syrupy down to his toes, his whole body jerking with the force of it, every muscle seizing as nonsense spills from his lips. He shakes for longer than he thought possible before falling slack, melting back into the sheets.

Pascal is staying valiantly still, but his grip on Ricardo’s thigh is like a vice and Ricardo can feel the way his legs shake where they’re pressed flush against him.

“Ricardo,” He says, “Ricardo, I am close do you-”

“Keep going,” Ricardo says immediately, “I’m fine, it’s-”

Pascal nods rapidly and when his hips move it’s almost painful, he’s oversensitive and overwhelmed but watching Pascal come apart between his thighs is worth the shocks of too much too soon. Pascal fucks in once, twice, then stills inside him, a desperate sound on his lips, and Ricardo watches with rapt attention, the way his bitten red lips fall open and his brows draw close.

Then it’s still and Ricardo is heaving shuddering breaths, his fingers and toes still tingling. He closes his eyes and throws an arm across them, soaking in the feeling.

After a long silence punctuated with Ricardo’s useless breathing, Pascal says, “I’m sorry about this,” and Ricardo doesn’t have a chance to ask about what? before Pascal pulls out. He jumps because it’s- weird and he’s oversensitive, and Pascal laughs again, because he’s the worst.

“Can’t be helped,” He coos as he goes to dispose of the condom, belaying his earlier apology. When he returns, he flops gracelessly next to Ricardo; close enough to touch but not enough to really be considered cuddling.

Ricardo grunts, peeling his arm away from his face to shoot a look at an entirely unrepentant Pacal.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a long moment. Ricardo isn’t going to sleep without a shower, but he lets himself doze a bit. He deserves it, he thinks; that was more than he was expecting. Better, too, but definitely more.

He’s drawn from his daze by a hand on his arm, he blinks his eyes open slowly and looks at Pascal, who’s now propped up on his elbow, looking at Ricardo’s face like he’s searching it for something.

“Ricardo,” He murmurs seriously and something twists in Ricardo’s stomach, anxiety spiking for a moment before he catches the way Pascal is fighting a smile.

“You would not have enjoyed that in the car.”

Ricardo grabs a pillow and swings.