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would it be my fault (if I could turn you on)?

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Raj has that look in his eyes that says he’s thought of something particularly devious. Stuart considers checking his boyfriend’s browser history for hints, but that borders too closely on the stalkerish for his liking. Besides, he trusts Raj.

The shower starts out pretty normal. Raj has a thing about lathering up a loofah and getting Stuart all soapy, running his slick hands all over Stuart’s skin, whether it leads to something more or not. He’s particularly diligent about it tonight, especially when he reaches Stuart’s ass, rubbing and stroking until Stuart’s squirming under his hands.

The part where Raj goes to his knees and pins Stuart against the wall with his hands on Stuart’s hips is also not unusual. He has a self-admitted oral fixation when it comes to Stuart; it manifests as anything from affectionate little cheek pecks to doing his utmost to try and swallow Stuart whole. Stuart flattens his palms against the tiles, finds the right angle to look down so that he can watch Raj without water getting in his eyes, and gives himself over to the tidal pull of Raj’s mouth.

Raj is taking his time tonight. One of his hands slides up between Stuart’s somewhat shaky thighs, fingers circling the base of his shaft for a moment, then cupping his balls, then gliding further back. Stuart gasps when Raj pushes a finger slowly into him; he’s used to it by now but also he’ll never be used to it.

All the time that Raj’s hand is exploring, his lips are dragging in long practiced pulls along the length of Stuart’s cock, his tongue mostly busy around the head, lapping the tip, drawing out the taste of Stuart judging by the soft sounds Raj makes every so often, like he’s being treated to a sweet dessert. The only unusual thing is that every time that Stuart gets anywhere near coming, Raj backs off, except for that one finger pressing slick inside him.

Stuart finally gets to the point where the teasing is more frustrating than fun, and is about to say so when Raj pulls away completely – mouth and hands and all – and says, “Turn around.”


“Turn. Around.”

Stuart complies,  hands pressing against the tiles to keep his balance. He’s assuming Raj plans to fuck him – judging from how hard Raj is, it’s the logical conclusion – and so when Raj stays on his knees it doesn’t quite add up.

Then Raj’s hands are on him, moving a little tentatively over his ass, fingers stroking into his cleft, and Stuart draws in a deep breath as he figures it out.

“Oh my g– Raj– are you sure you want to–” He tries to look back down over his shoulder but his lover’s face isn’t visible at this angle.

Raj, typically, doesn’t say anything; his response comes in the form of a slow, considering lick up the back of Stuart’s thigh, and Stuart instinctively shifts his feet a little further apart, aiming to maximize his balance. Even that one lick, not even close to where he’s sure Raj is headed, has thrown off his center of gravity.

Raj keeps dragging his tongue leisurely over Stuart’s skin, interspersing soft bites with the tongue work, moving inward, steady and sure. Stuart can feel his breath and the way Raj’s thumbs dig in a little to spread him wider, and whimpers.


He can picture the expression on Raj’s face: a combination of smugness at the effect he’s having and that look of intense concentration he gets when he’s trying something new.

The first touch of Raj’s tongue at his entrance is so light he barely feels it, a kittenish flick, there and gone.

The second touch, a bold drag from right down behind his balls, has Stuart make a noise that he’s pretty sure incorporates a heretofore undiscovered vowel sound. His knees buckle but Raj’s hands on his ass support him. Before he can recover, Raj does it again, and again, and he’s going mmmm like he’s licking a fucking ice cream cone or something. Stuart scrabbles at the tiles with his hands, trying not to fall.

Then Raj’s tongue pushes into him, breaching the tight ring of muscle with unbelievable, unfair ease. Stuart could swear he can feel every single one of Raj’s tastebuds as Raj dips deeper, withdraws to lavish another half-dozen of those long licks over Stuart’s skin, and then pushes back in again. His tongue curls and he lets out another of those ice cream cone noises, and Stuart can only manage a hoarse sobbing groan in return. It feels sort of like when Raj fingers him but with saliva instead of lube it’s a little rougher; conversely, however, Raj’s tongue has the capacity to be much gentler than his fingers.

Not that Raj seems to have gotten that particular memo. His tongue drags flat through Stuart’s cleft and then shifts back to a point to lick into Stuart again. His fingers are splayed over Stuart’s ass, his thumbs spreading him open, and Stuart rests his forehead against the cool tiles, hearing himself whimper and gasp as if from miles away. If it weren’t for the very physical, very visceral sensations that Raj is bringing him, he’d almost think he’s having an out of body experience. They’ve done a lot in the two or so years they’ve been together, but this is a new level of play and it’s obscenely incredible.

Raj lets go of Stuart’s ass with one hand (not at all, Stuart notices, hindering his ability to get his tongue right in there, fuck), and reaches around to grasp Stuart’s cock. The angle is awkward. Stuart gives zero fucks, torn between thrusting into Raj’s loose fist and pushing back against his tongue. The alphabet doesn’t have the letters to describe the noises Raj is wringing out of him, apart from how every so often he manages to sob out the word fuck in a voice that he barely recognizes as his own. When Raj hits on the perfect rhythm between his tongue and his hand, even that falls away, leaving just incoherent sound.

With this, as with so many other things, Raj is quick to learn what makes Stuart react the most. In this case, when Raj resumes the long licks that cover a whole lot of territory before dipping into him at the end of each one, that’s what has Stuart trying to rise onto his toes the better to push back down against Raj’s tongue at the end of each sweep. Raj allows this a few times before giving his ass a warning squeeze.

Stuart realizes that with the way Raj has been tonguing him, Raj could almost fuck him... it would hurt more than usual, but at the same time he really wants more than just Raj’s tongue in him.

The thought of Raj just standing up and shoving into him, quick and rough and hard, is what makes Stuart come. He can feel his muscles clench around Raj’s tongue and then Raj is straightening up, but it’s to catch Stuart before he can fall.

“Fuck,” Stuart manages.

Raj smiles. It’s predatory rather than pacifying. “Get out of the shower.”

Stuart stumbles, goes. Raj’s hands are on him, guiding, nudging him until he’s bent over the vanity bench, propped up on his forearms. He can see himself in the mirror, flushed red, wet hair sticking to his forehead. He can see Raj behind him, and their eyes meet for a moment in the mirror before Raj looks down and Stuart feels the blunt nudge of Raj’s cock against his saliva-slick entrance.


Stuart bites his lower lip, but nods. “Do it.”

It does hurt, a quick sharp burn that makes him cry out, but Raj echoes his cry with a deep groan and only lasts a couple of deep thrusts before half collapsing onto Stuart, and the pulse of his cock inside Stuart is hot and slow. He bites a mark onto the back of Stuart’s shoulder that lingers for days.

They rinse off in the shower and tumble into bed, Raj spooning around Stuart.

“You don’t have to return the favor,” Raj says. “I know it’s not everyone’s thing.”

Stuart laces their fingers together across his stomach. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll think of something to surprise you with.”