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Accounting for Taste

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“Oh.”

Post-Ivankov Sabo really wasn't all that different from pre-Ivankov Sabo. His Adam's apple was gone; that was perhaps the most conspicuous thing. Otherwise, muscles were still muscles and scars were still scars. He was small-breasted, which was great, because he didn't have to worry about poorly fitting clothes and could just, had just thrown his coat over the whole thing. Sure, his hips were a little bit wider than his trousers were used to accommodating, his thighs a little fleshier, but all in all, if someone wasn't looking, they probably didn't know.

And, right, there was the frankly uncomfortable absence of a dick. He supposed that's what Marco was thinking of, with that stupid little Oh and the lingering gaze.

“I can still fight,” Sabo declared with just a bit of a sneer, fully aware he might sound defensive, that he might look defensive with his arms crossing over his torso. But whatever, it's just Marco, and they were now safely ensconced away in the loft room of a summer island inn. Sabo could be as transparent as he liked. “I'm not so precious about my dick that I can't function before I see Iva-san again.”

“Mhm,” Marco hummed absently, still staring so fucking intently at Sabo, what the hell was his problem, “thats nice yoi. Hey.” And when he finally met Sabo's eyes, his were actually glowing gold with phoenix flames, which only happened when Marco was well and truly turned on and oh— “Can I eat you out?”

“I—” Sure, immediately after accepting the hormone shot from Ivankov, the potential has crossed Sabo's mind, but frankly, he'd come to the rendezvous spot with that only as an afterthought. This wasn't the configuration of body he was used to, and embarrassingly enough, he had really only thought, well I can still get fucked in the ass can't I? “I mean sure, if you really want—”

“I want,” Marco confirmed in his .5 milligrams of morphine voice. At the same time, he also stalked forward in that way that Sabo liked, all hot-eyed predator. “The question is, do you want?”

In the nether regions that Sabo was emphatically foreign to, he felt a tingling heat. It was slow to rise, circling the lower parts of his belly like dense water, lapping up the insides of his body with every swirling pass. Marco was now very close, his breath very gentle on Sabo's lips.

“Ace will be here soon yoi,” he told Sabo, code for, if you're nervous we can wait for him, and underneath that, if you don't want to we'll stop. And honestly, Sabo quite liked the idea of waiting for Ace. When the unknown loomed on the horizon, there was still something happy and instinctive in the way he relied on Ace's easy grin to let him know everything was okay.

But. This was Marco, who could be the definition of everything's-okay. And the tug in Sabo's belly that came with the thought of giving Marco something he asked for? It wasn't instinctive, perhaps, but it sure was happy.

So with one hand flicking open the fastener on his trousers, Sabo took hold of Marco's head with the other and began pushing Marco down.

“We can warm up while we wait, hm?”

That's how Ace walked in on Marco's head buried between Sabo's thighs, his tongue deep in Sabo's cunt.

“He's here,” Sabo hissed, slapping Marco none-too-gently on the back. “You said when Ace gets here I get to—you'll let me—”

Sabo could feel the tongue withdraw, so much gliding wetness over his own gliding wetness and Marco sealed his lips over Sabo's clit (which was new, so fucking new, and what a fucking feeling) and sucked. Sabo's palm turned into Sabo's nails, scoring vivid red lines across Marco's shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Ace said numbly, as the door slammed shut behind him.

“Let me come,” Sabo whined, feeling wetness at his eyelashes and all these different sensations that's getting him worked up in record time and— “Marco, Marco—Let me—How do I—”

Marco hummed, low and filthy and pleased, as he pressed deeper. His lips parted into an O, but kept up the suction so that Sabo could feel more and more of his overheated skin being taken up into that sucking warmth, and his folds brushing gently up against Marco's incisors and god, there was Marco's tongue again. The suction released with an unapologetically loud smack! and Marco's fucking tongue, pressing hard into the divot right to the side of his clit and—

Sabo's back arched clean off the bed as he shook his way into orgasm, a barrier of heat punching open, his cunt pulsating and his hips helplessly undulating up, right into Marco's mouth and—fuck, the man wasn't letting up, rolling his tongue right with Sabo and lapping at Sabo's clit all the while. The pulsating also didn't stop, each flick of the tongue milking out another helpless tremble, another helpless giving from Sabo.

Ace settled tentatively at the foot of the bed just as Sabo was at the end of being wrung out, resting a gentle hand on Sabo's shin. His mouth seemed helplessly agape, gaze flickering up and down Sabo's face (Sabo didn't want to know what embarrassing, fucked-out expression was on his own face), Sabo's chest peeking out through the open shirt, and Sabo's cunt, which Marco was still fucking insatiably nuzzling at—

Ace got a friendly handful of Marco's hair and pulled him up. Mouth slick and eyes heavy-lidded, Marco looked blissed out.

“How long...?”

“Since the second he got here,” Sabo panted, breath still shaky. He tried to draw his legs together in some vague gesture of modesty, but an unhappy little look and a protesting hand from Marco kept that from happening. “Like, twenty minutes?”

“He looks like he can go twenty more,” Ace observed, looking speculative as he carded his fingers through Marco's hair. “Can you?”

“Give a guy a break after he's just orgasmed, won't you?” Sabo grunted. Everything tingled in the right ways and he was genuinely feeling ready to tap out for the afternoon, unfortunately for Ace. But then a whole new light came into Marco's gaze.

“But I can give you so many more, yoi.”

Two fingers brushed against his folds, and everything was just so damn slick and open that Sabo knew Marco could push in with very little pressure. His tongue had worked Sabo over well enough that the thought of longer, deeper penetration didn't seem too scary.

“May I?”

“...Fine.”

The fingers still didn't go in, perhaps owing to the last hint of uncertainty Sabo couldn't fully exorcise from his tone. Instead, Marco's tongue came back again, laving heavy trailing strokes up and down the sides of Sabo's slit. He worked and worked the nerve endings with pleasant pressure until Sabo was impatiently pulling his own thighs apart.

“Come on Marco, just do it—”

Marco dipped his fingers in side-by-side, and Sabo was so damn wet he could barely feel it. He squirmed downwards, eager now for a more substantial penetration, and Marco seemed pleased, his lips where they were still pressed against Sabo turning up into a grin.

Then Marco angled his hands just so, and curled his fingers in.

It was just a small ember of sensation at first, but as Marco's fingers got quicker, curving into Sabo's inner walls, ignition came quick. Like his first orgasm had left the dam doors loose on its hinges, this second orgasm rushed head-on through, erupting into being and oh, Sabo could feel those fingers now, his vaginal walls clamping down on them as he came. He was grateful that Marco wasn't pumping his hand in and out, because there was already a slight pleasant soreness at the lips of his opening.

...Which Marco was now—fucking again—lapping at, and his fingers resumed their curling gesture, pressing into spongey flesh in time with the tongue now working double time at Sabo's labia and—an uncontrollable shaking overtook Sabo's legs and—was he about to fucking come again—

Sabo keened, abs engaging to propel his entire upper body forward. Ace was there to catch him in a steadying embrace, letting Sabo shake apart in his arms as Marco worked him through the end of his third orgasm (in twenty minutes). Marco finally, finally let up, fingers sliding carefully out of Sabo and mouth departing too, leaving Sabo feeling strangely disconnected and cold.

“How do you feel?” Ace asked quietly, petting Sabo's sweaty back with a soothing palm.

“Fucking overwhelmed,” was Sabo's honest answer, along with a giggle of hysteria that bubbled out of him, along with a trail of wetness from his vagina. The fingers that caught it, scooped it off his skin made him whine with oversensitivity. He also kicked at Marco with a petulant heel, thinking they were his.

But then Ace had two fingers against Sabo's mouth, smoothing them onto Sabo's tongue with pupils completely dilated. Sabo tasted a salty musk so potent that it completely swept through his senses of taste and smell. With a startled moan, he suckled at Ace's fingers until they were completely clean.

“And how do you taste?” Ace asked, less now the doting boyfriend and more the extremely turned-on boyfriend who's found a brand new way to fuck.

“Ask Marco,” Sabo managed to grunt out, peering past Ace's shoulders to see Marco, who was still parked between Sabo's legs like he was waiting for even the slightest chance that he could be allowed to continue. “God, he's obsessed.”

“There is,” Marco pulled himself together enough to declare, “really nothing I'd rather do more than this yoi.

“Oh no, it's my turn next you selfish bastard,” Ace said. His expression though, said he was just as eager as Sabo to fulfill all of Marco's lascivious desires. “But maybe once I'm done, we'll lay you out on the bed, hm? Sabo can ride your face while I ride your dick.”