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Spartacus’s ploy seems to have worked well beyond expectation. The wine flows freely in the wake of the contests, and it seems like everywhere Nasir looks, there are people forging new friendships or rekindling old ones. Gannicus and Oenomaus are comfortably leaning against a wall, and although Gannicus is the only one drinking, they are both smiling, and Oenomaus’s hand is casually clasped on his friend’s shoulder. Nasir walks past them with a nod, occasionally sipping from his cup of wine. It’s sour stuff, not left to age for long enough, but it warms his stomach and his blood. It feels good to be warm and relaxed and pleased with the company around him; even with the sore ache in his muscles from the fight he and Lugo lost.

He hasn’t yet spotted the company he craves the most, but the night is young. He wanders from one group to the other, exchanging jests and congratulations on the fights.

Saxa is sprawled on the temple steps with two former slave girls on either side of her. They share a jug of wine amid much laughter and groping, which seems to do enough to bridge the barrier of different languages.

“Little man!” Lugo pounces on him unawares in an alarming flurry of muscle and good cheer, shaking an overly full jug in Nasir’s face. “Share wine and tales of prowess!” One of Lucius’s archers, a curvy girl giggling and flushed with wine, is stumbling at Lugo’s side, draped by a heavy arm. Nasir evades the other flailing limb with a grin and a shake of his head.

“Apologies. I seek-”

“Agron, of course, of course.” Lugo gestures magnanimously, beaming with his whole broad face. “Go, go. I will not thwart your cock!”

His ability to speak privately leaves something to be desired. Nasir ducks away from him to the sound of mirth from various nearby groups. Mira, sitting on a low wall with Lucius, winks at him conspiratorially, and Nasir rolls his eyes at her.

“Little man! Wait!” He turns to Lugo’s shout, and finds the tribesman barrelling towards him, clutching a small clay pot.

“Here!” He thrusts it into Nasir’s hands, and bellows laughter when Nasir looks at him in confusion. “Good olive oil from cellar. So you can still walk tomorrow, eh? Hah!”

More sounds of amusement all around. There’s really nothing to do but punch Lugo in the arm, accept the offering, and walk away with as much of his dignity intact as possible. (Come to think of it, he isn’t sure there is any oil left in his and Agron’s small room.)

Lugo’s guffaws follows him all the way across the courtyard.

He finally finds Agron by a fire near the back of the temple, sharing wine with Crixus. They, too, are laughing over something, and when Crixus shoves Agron hard against the shoulder in what Nasir assumes was meant to be a friendly manner, Agron spins on his feet, wine sloshing over the brim of his cup. He spots Nasir, and his face breaks into a wide grin.

“Nasir!” he booms, wrapping an arm around his shoulders that sends more wine spilling over his fingers, and a little down Nasir’s chest, as well. “You were missed. Come, share drink, and Crixus’s poor wit.”

Nasir grins back, slinging an arm around Agron’s hips and gently pushing the sloshing cup away from his face. “I’m sure it stands equal to your own.”

Agron furrows his brow a moment, trying to tease out the slight behind the words, before he gives up and gestures expansively at Crixus. “Crixus was sharing most amusing tale. About a goat. A goat tale.” He chortles, nudging an elbow into Nasir’s ribs. “Crixus, it would seem, is on most familiar terms with goats.”

He laughs at his own joke, and Crixus scowls, although his lip is twitching slightly. “You stand my brother now, you simple oaf, so you may claim equal kinship with their kind.”

That sets them both off again, and Nasir as well, though more at their infectious amusement than any actual jest. He pokes at Agron’s side. “You’re fogged by drink,” he accuses fondly.

Agron beams a huge, irresistible grin at him and tilts his head to place a loud smack on Nasir’s temple. “Not fogged, only… spirited.” He leans over Nasir, studying his face, and his smile grows brighter still, if such a thing is possible. “You’re… pretty,” he declares grandly, and his hands come up to frame Nasir’s face. He must have put the wine down somewhere. “Pretty,” he murmurs again, his eyes dropping to stare at Nasir’s mouth.

Somewhere behind them, Crixus makes an exasperated noise. Nasir feels a blush rising to his cheeks. Self-consciously, he tongues at the cut in his lower lip, then abruptly stops when he sees Agron’s eyes trace the motion. “You’re drunk,” he repeats, trying to smile lightly, despite the heat that curls in his belly at the intensity of Agron’s stare.

“An affliction shared by many this night, it would seem.” Naevia’s voice sounds smooth and warmly amused above the crackling fire, and Nasir tears his eyes away from Agron’s face with half relief and half regret. Naevia has tucked herself against Crixus’s side and is smiling fondly at Nasir, with just a hint of teasing. “You seem not unaffected yourself.”

“Not by wine,” he says almost automatically, and glares when both Crixus and Agron cackle like gossiping girls at the market.

Naevia rolls her eyes in sympathy. “You carry more sensible drink, then?” she asks. “A wise choice. Let me share in it.” She’s taken the clay vessel from his hand before he realises what she means, and by the time he reaches to take it back, it’s already too late. “Naevia, no-”

But she has already raised it to her lips, and just as quickly lowered it again, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“This is… oil?”

Crixus roars with laughter, so loud that heads turn towards them. A second later, Naevia blushes and hastily thrusts the small pot back at Nasir. “Apologies, I did not think…” But her lips are quivering, too.

Agron looks equal parts affronted and sheepishly delighted, and Nasir gives up on any aspirations to save his dignity. He rolls his eyes and grabs Agron by the elbow. “We’ll leave you to your tales of goats, Crixus. Perhaps Naevia will be more impressed by them.” A feeble parting shot, but all he can manage just now. The sound of Crixus’s laughter follows them as he drags Agron towards the temple. “I’ve seen his cock,” Crixus yells after them. “Use plenty of oil!”

Nasir smacks Agron’s arm when he laughs as well.


Agron, it turns out, is the affectionate sort of drunk, pawing happily all over Nasir on their way to their small chamber. His hands seem in perfect working order, even if Nasir has to mostly drag him along, and stop him from shoving Nasir up against every available wall. There’s something rather enchanting about him like this, loose-limbed and eager, but Nasir would still prefer to be somewhere away from the possibility of prying eyes. One Crixus and Lugo is enough for the night. He balances the pot of oil carefully, out of the reach of Agron’s fondling hands.

By the time they’ve finally reached their room, they’re both out of breath, and Agron is slowly coming out of his giggly stupor, his intentions clearly taking a new path. He’s groping hungrily at Nasir, more help than hindrance while Nasir tugs off his clothes, and Agron’s too. Agron is nibbling busily at his mouth, doing his best to avoid the sore spot. His fingers are skimming Nasir’s flanks, exploiting the sensitive hollows of his ribs. He smiles when Nasir shivers.

“You came with oil,” he murmurs against the side of Nasir’s mouth, his lips curving. “So thoughtful.”

Nasir grumbles as he tugs off Agron’s belt. “Not my thought, but Lugo’s.”

Agron pulls back, looking comically confused. “Lugo’s?” He bursts out laughing again when Nasir tells him of the encounter. “I shall thank Lugo tomorrow, then.” He wraps his arms around Nasir’s waist, but sobers somewhat when Nasir shoves at his chest, glowering.

“Apologies,” he says from two steps back, doing his best to look contrite. “Lugo and Crixus… they make assumptions.”

“As do many others,” Nasir confirms, somewhat sourly amused.

Agron cocks his head at him while Nasir unwraps his subligaria, holding still meekly enough, although his hands can’t seem to stop roaming across Nasir’s chest and shoulders. “And do such assumptions bother you?”

Nasir snorts. “I give no shits for their assumptions,” he growls, biting at Agron’s lip. He turns them both, manhandling Agron towards the bed. “Bend over.”

Agron smiles down at him, bright-eyed and still intoxicated enough to be swaying on his feet, or just exaggerating it, and evades his grasp. “Make me – little man.”

Nasir pounces him. Their fight is brief and fierce – even fogged with wine, Agron is sharp enough to offer a deathly challenge to anyone, but Nasir is still mostly sober, and hard with purpose. He ducks under a lazy swipe, grabs Agron’s arm and hooks a foot behind his calf, and Agron topples onto the bed with a “whoof” as the air is pushed out of his lungs. Nasir throws himself on top of him, grasping at flailing limbs. They writhe together briefly, half grappling, half thrusting, until Nasir has got Agron on his belly beneath him, arms dragged behind his back in a firm double-handed grip. Agron’s wide shoulders tense and flex, and then hold still.

“Now what?” he challenges, cheek pressed into the blankets.

Nasir grins as he tries to regain his breath. “That would depend on you. Have you ceased fighting?”

There is a fierce pleasure in the knowledge that he can physically best Agron now – and yes, he’s drunk and hardly in best form, but Nasir knows him well enough that even around Nasir, Agron is hardly one to let down his guard when it comes to a fight.

Agron bucks beneath him, trying to wriggle free, and Nasir shifts his grip on his wrists to one hand, squeezing tightly. He lifts his freed hand and brings it down in a quick, light slap on Agron’s bare buttocks.

It’s merely meant as chastisement, an almost gentle reminder of who’s in control right now; but unexpectedly, Agron moans throatily and arches his back, thrusting his ass towards Nasir, and suddenly control is a thing that seems highly uncertain. Startled, Nasir releases Agron’s wrists. He’s almost braced for another struggle, but Agron stays where he is, raised slightly up on knees and elbows. His back is tense, his head dropped low, and he doesn’t move.

Nasir licks his suddenly dry lips, trying to control the throbbing heat at his groin.

“Do you like this?” he mutters, slightly hoarsely, and smacks again, hard enough this time so his palm stings from the impact. The firm buttocks clench beneath his hand, but then relax again, enticingly thrust towards him. He releases a gust of air, half startled, half amused, and repeats the motion. This time, Agron moans: quietly and half-suppressed, as if his teeth were caught in his lip, but the raw lust in the sound is unmistakable.

Nasir feels his lips stretch in a ferocious grin. “By fucking Pluto’s gates, you do.” Agron makes a grumbling, protesting noise and moves – whether to get away or simply to rearrange Nasir will never know, because he’s overcome with sudden, savage instinct. He grabs Agron by the nape with his left hand and bears down hard, pushing his face almost all the way into the blankets.

“Stay,” he growls. “I would learn more about this,” and he slaps Agron’s ass with his other hand, a quick flurry of hard, open-palmed smacks that resound within the small room.

Agron utters a muffled curse beneath him, but makes no move to escape. On the contrary, his spine hollows, buttocks lifting to Nasir’s hand in blatant invitation. Nasir delivers one hard slap after the other, and feels his cock harden when the pale flesh reddens under his hand. Agron is breathing hard and his hips are moving, thrusting into each stinging smack. When his thighs shuffle apart, exposing himself completely to the rough assault, Nasir loses control entirely for a little while. He leans over Agron’s back, wrapping his left arm around his middle to hold him in place. Not bothering to hold back, he spanks him red and raw, eyes glued to the pink, rippling flesh, until his own palm hurts too much to go on.

When he’s done, he leans back on his heels, out of breath and a little appalled by himself; but Agron turns his head upon the blankets to catch his gaze, and his eyes are heated and dark with arousal.

“Would you leave me there?” he demands, rough-voiced. He’s dropped down to one elbow; his other arm is curved beneath his body, his hand busy between his legs. Nasir’s cock, already hard, strains and twitches in response. He gives Agron a shaky smile and reaches out to brush a drop of sweat from his temple.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, leaning forward to drop a kiss on his shoulder. “I did not mean-”

Agron cuts him off with snorted laughter, tilting his hips against him. “I hope you meant. I hope you mean more, before the night is out.”

Nasir sucks in air and bares his teeth. “Oh, I do.”

He kisses Agron briefly and fiercely, before he moves to position himself behind Agron’s spread knees. He takes a deep breath as he slowly smooths his hands across the abused flesh of Agron’s buttocks. It’s flaming red, and hot to the touch. Agron shifts restlessly under his hands. Nasir lets him, delivering no more than feather-light touches across the heated skin. He trails his fingers down the sensitive skin of Agron’s inner thighs, feeling the powerful muscles straining underneath. When he brushes against the soft dangling weight of Agron’s balls – warm as well, though not as hot as his buttocks – Agron makes a harsh noise somewhere between need and protest. Nasir obliges him by palming the reddened cheeks firmly, then spreading them apart. His cock throbs urgently at the sight of the tight rim of Agron’s hole, but he holds back, contenting himself with fondling Agron’s buttocks, thumbs brushing close to the crack but not close enough.

Agron groans deep in his throat. He moves as if to drop down, to roll over, and Nasir shifts quickly to hold him in place.

“Stay there,” he snarls between gritted teeth, one hand pressed hard between Agron’s shoulders. He’s tensed for resistance, but Agron suddenly seems to melt beneath his touch, his shoulders dropping low and his thighs parting even further.

“Gods,” he mutters, sounding needy and breathless, “you have me close to bursting. Do something!”

Nasir smiles and leans over his wide, tense back, kissing him low on the small of his back, and then lower still.

“Do not fear. I will have you bursting,” he murmurs into the damp, intimate space between Agron’s buttocks, tongue darting out to taste. “I will have you unravel at my touch” – he delivers a long, slow lick up the crack – “and put you back together” – another lick, lower this time, barely brushing the edge of the twitching hole – “and take you apart again.”

Agron growls, low and under his breath. Nasir cups his palms around his heated buttocks and pulls them wide to ease his access. He circles the tight rim with his tongue, slow and wet, teasing low against the sensitive skin between hole and balls until Agron’s thighs tighten with strain. Then he moves back up, delivering quick, darting caresses against the tight opening, pressing just the tip of his tongue inside until it eases open to his touch. He repeats the motion, a little deeper each time, swirling his tongue. Agron is groaning deep in his throat; he’s low on his wide-spread knees, face pressed into the blankets, and Nasir thinks every muscle in his body may be strung tight and wanting. Good.

He licks again, slow and slick, then tenses his tongue and thrusts it deep. Agron utters a long, shuddering gasp. Nasir smiles against his skin and repeats the motion. He slides his tongue out and back in, then flutters it, licking Agron open with wet, teasing swirls. Agron’s buttocks are firm and sleek against his face, still hot from the slaps he delivered. So hot, inside and out.

Lugo’s oil still sits beside their bed where Nasir put it earlier. He reaches out without breaking his rhythm to dip his hand in it. He sneaks his fingers, generously coated, underneath Agron’s body and forward, grasping his cock. It’s thick and throbbing in his hand, swelling even harder at his touch. When Agron’s body loosens beneath him, he starts to work his tongue in earnest, thrusting it as deep as it will go while he works Agron’s cock with slippery fingers, squeezing and pulling.

Agron’s climax comes on fast. He cries out suddenly, contracting beneath Nasir’s tongue and spurting hard within his tight grip. Nasir keeps licking him slowly and soothingly while he comes down, enjoying the residual contractions around his tongue, the final jerks of Agron’s spending cock. He smooths his come-slick fingers down the softening length, milking a few last drops from it until Agron collapses flat with a rough-voiced pleading curse. “Fuck. Gods. Nasir. Enough.”

Nasir rises up then, slightly breathless himself, and throbbing hard. He grabs Agron by one arm and leg to turn him over. Agron obliges, rolling over bonelessly and blinking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. His cheeks are flushed and his lips curve slightly, though he’s still gasping for breath.

“Apologies,” he pants, “for poor stamina. Your touch… is fire.”

Nasir smiles, although his own cock is so hard it hurts, and presses down against Agron’s heaving body, brushing their lips together. “None required,” he purrs. “I’ll have you hard again within a moment, and make you come again” – he thrusts his hips against him, just lightly – “and then again.”

Agron smiles at him, loose and breathless, and cups Nasir’s nape to drag him down for a kiss.

“Ambitious boasts,” he murmurs, “that I fear I shall disappoint.”

Nasir laughs at him in earnest, nipping at his lower lip. “Trust me. You won’t.”

Agron cocks a lazy brow and trails a hand down Nasir’s ribs. “I stand intrigued, or would if I could stand. How would you spur me to such heights?”

Nasir kisses him again, slow and deep, and runs his hands down Agron’s heaving chest and belly and then lower, urging his legs apart.

“I will show you.”

He revels in this freedom, in the knowledge of what he can do to Agron’s body. For the first few days of physical consummation, he’s plunged into their frenzied coupling as though he knew next to nothing about bedding someone. It seemed fitting, in a way, since he did know nothing about lying with someone he cares for, and wanted what he shared with Agron to stand apart from what his Dominus demanded of him. There are many ways in which he hasn’t quite figured out yet how to reconcile his old life with the new.

So the way they have made love – not often yet; they’ve started fucking only recently, and each time is still a dizzy revelation – has been straight-forward: not tame by any means (he doesn’t think Agron knows the meaning of the word) but direct, hot and hungry, each encounter geared towards complete and relatively quick release. Giving in to shared desire is still new to Nasir and he has been taking his cues from Agron, as he does when they fight the Romans. He’s had no reason to complain: Agron when seized by passion is irresistible, frank and delightful in his desires, and very, very thorough.

But lately it has come to Nasir that the subtler body skills he possesses – whether or not they were taught while he was yet a slave – are only his to command now, and his to share where he sees fit. To deny that he holds them would merely be another victory for his former masters; a way for them to control, no matter how obscurely, the way he uses his own body, or seeks his own pleasure.

He will have none of that.

Agron moves languidly beneath his touches, raising his hips obligingly when Nasir pushes a bunched-up blanket underneath them. When he reaches for Nasir with eager hands, Nasir presses him back down with a smile, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He brushes his lips along the line of stubble to his ear and mouths warmly at the soft lobe until he feels Agron shudder.

“Stay,” he murmurs, close to Agron’s ear. He moves between Agron’s sprawling legs and pushes his knees up, smoothing his hands down the backs of his long, hard thighs. He dips his fingers once more in the pot of oil, then changes his mind and lifts the entire thing, drizzling a stream of oil onto Agron’s balls and down his crack. Agron swears under his breath and lifts his hips higher. Nasir coats his fingers in oil – it’s everywhere now, slick and sensuous against Agron’s heated skin – and slides them between Agron’s buttocks, up and down, slow and almost soothing. Agron squirms against him, thighs tensing and releasing under Nasir’s feathery touches. Nasir moves a finger slowly around the rim of Agron’s hole, just stroking, without pressure. It’s slightly loosened from his tongue, but tight enough still, opening only gradually to the push of his fingers. Agron exhales sharply and lifts his hips, seeking more contact. Nasir places his free hand on his belly and strokes in a slow, circular motion, feeling the taut muscles strain and relax under his touch.

Agron groans when Nasir slides his finger inside, thrusting shallowly. He works him open slowly, muttering words of encouragement, delighting in the tight squeeze. He adds a second finger, dripping with oil. Agron’s eyes are half-open, lashes twitching in the candlelight. He’s watching Nasir’s face from underneath them, his gaze fervent yet clouded with lust.

Nasir curls the two fingers and moves them slightly, pushing against the tight inner wall until he finds the spot he seeks. He rubs them teasingly across the rounded gland inside Agron’s body, slow motions with his finger pads, just a little pressure. Agron’s mouth drops open and his eyes fall shut. Fascinated, Nasir watches the cut-off exhalations, too quiet to be gasps, that part his lips: they’re more motion than noise, a subtle rhythm that tenses and slackens Agron’s face in counterpoint to Nasir’s touch inside him.

His free hand keeps rubbing soothing circles across the taut, heaving plane of Agron’s belly. When he feels the tip of Agron’s cock brushing against his circling palm, hard and slick with anticipated need, he smiles.

“Hold on,” he tells Agron softly, before he leans down to taste him, just for a moment. He licks him, root to crown, in one smooth, wet motion. Agron makes a harsh, broken sound and jerks his hips. Nasir obliges him by closing his lips around the swollen head and sucking briefly, savouring the salty taste; but when Agron shoves up, he pulls back.

Agron whimpers in protest, and Nasir swoops down to cover his gasping lips with his own, slipping the taste of Agron’s cock carried on his tongue into Agron’s mouth.

“Not yet,” he whispers. Agron growls, digging his teeth into Nasir’s lower lip. Nasir winces briefly when he tastes blood – they’ve both forgotten about the cut on his lip – but when Agron draws back, he follows, smashing their mouths together again, blood be damned. Agron breathes harshly into his mouth. Somehow, the sour wine seems to have turned sweeter on his tongue, or perhaps that’s just the added tang of blood. Nasir chases the taste of it, licking and biting, swallowing up Agron’s harsh gasps while Nasir’s fingers keep working him inside, rubbing and teasing, pushing a little harder now. Agron’s cock juts hard against his belly. The slight smear of seed at the tip has turned into a steady dribble, a helpless response to the continuous stimulation against that tender spot inside him. Nasir presses down, trapping the dripping length between Agron’s belly and his own. He pushes his thumb against the taut patch of skin behind Agron’s balls and starts to rub him there too, steady pressure angled precisely to meet from the outside the spot he’s rubbing from within.

Agron releases a long, broken moan against his lips and his back arches up. His hands dig into Nasir’s back with almost brutal force, scrabbling for purchase. His cock is dripping steadily now, a continuous release that coats his belly and Nasir’s, but remains short of actual climax yet; his cock stays hard and pulsing even as it oozes fluid. Nasir releases his lips and leans back. Perched over Agron’s body, he watches. He’s hard himself, bursting with it, but he’s well used to waiting. It’s another skill acquired through long years of practice: hold out until desire is needed. Another skill that’s only his, now, and only his to bestow. He shifts his hips, forces even breaths into his lungs, and tells his cock to bide its time.

Agron is gorgeous in the candlelight, sticky with sweat and oil and come, and taut with tension; his lips open and gasping and his eyes hazy with passion. He looks wanton and completely lost in his body’s responses, and Nasir wants nothing more than to fuck him utterly senseless. He digs his teeth into his lip deliberately, using the sharp stab of pain and the drip of blood to anchor himself.

Instead, he increases the pressure just a little, inside and out: his fingers crooked and milking that spot inside Agron’s clenching ass, his thumb rubbing small, insistent circles against heated skin, against the underside of Agron’s swollen balls. When he feels them draw up tight, so close to release, he wraps his free hand around the base of Agron’s cock and smooths it up in a tight, coaxing grip. He leans over Agron until the ends of his hair whip softly across Agron’s peaked nipples, until his own cock presses insistently against his hand on Agron’s shaft. His hand grows slippery as he moves it, and he can feel Agron’s body thrumming beneath his.

He leans lower still, until he can taste Agron’s gasps upon his lips. “Come for me,” he murmurs, low and throaty, and Agron tenses, clenches, and falls apart with a hoarse shout. Come spills slick and hot across Nasir’s fingers. He moves his hand down to squeeze around Agron’s base while curling his fingers for one final harsh caress against that spot inside him. Agron’s hips buck and he spurts again and again, so violently some of it splatters on his chest and higher, onto his own chin and mouth. Nasir dives down to kiss him, to lick the salty come from his open lips.

He can’t hold out much longer, practised or not. The sight of Agron’s body beneath him, boneless and sprawled wide and covered in come, does things to his self-control that no practice could have prepared him for.

He sits back on his heels, slicks his cock with more oil and Agron’s seed, and grabs Agron around the thighs, pulling him halfway into his lap.

“Agron,” he says softly. “Look at me.”

Agron’s eyes flutter open, focusing with some difficulty on Nasir’s face, and then drifting lower. He smiles, slow and pleased, and moves his hips slightly. Challenging, even now. His hand drifts up to grasp at Nasir’s fingers, at his swollen cock. “Put it in me,” he says, low and slightly hoarse, the rasp of his spent voice sending a jolt of heat directly to Nasir’s loins.

Nasir smiles back and leans towards him, pushing Agron’s thighs forward with the pressure of his chest. They bend easily, knees dropping to Agron’s shoulders. Nasir grabs his cock to position the head at Agron’s hole, slick with oil and his own seed.

“I have been thinking of nothing else,” he whispers against Agron’s parting lips, driving slowly forward and inside, “since I saw you by the fire, trading tales of goats.”

Agron laughs, then groans at the long, steady push inside of him. Nasir withdraws slightly, then shoves back in, teeth sunk into his smarting lip at the exquisite rippling pressure. He reaches for Agron’s cock, brushing a light caress across the tender flesh. It twitches slightly at his probing touch.

“One more time,” he coaxes, thrusting first deep, then shallow, angling his cock to brush that rounded cluster of nerves again. Agron’s head falls back, a noise almost like a sob escaping from his slack lips.

“Gods, I can’t…”

“You can,” Nasir assures him, and rocks his hips forward. He hisses at the clench of Agron’s body surrounding him – so tight, even after two releases in short succession. “You will,” he asserts, rolling his hips to hit him just there again, to hear him make that lovely broken sound once more. It’s utterly intoxicating to see him like this, fucked-out and sprawling, those tanned thighs wide open to Nasir’s pleasure and his cock jerking upon his belly, despite his protests. Nasir palms it again, just loosely, delighting in the twitch of its response, the steady, swelling rise. He runs his thumb up the large vein on the underside, cups Agron’s balls with his other hand, and watches as Agron strains and curses.

“Jupiter’s cock…”

“A thing of less concern to me,” Nasir murmurs, tightening his grip, “than yours.”

He takes pity when Agron whimpers, and slides his hands down his thighs instead, cupping his buttocks to lift his legs and adjust the angle. He leans back, dragging Agron’s hips higher up into his lap, and wraps his arms and hands around those powerful thighs to lift him up just slightly, leaving him utterly exposed. He pulls out almost all the way, until only the head of his cock is caught within the tight rim of Agron’s ass, then rams back in, burying himself as deep as he can go. Agron gives a ragged cry and Nasir repeats the motion, again and again, fucking him deep and fast, ignoring the strain in his arms that hold up Agron’s legs. Agron keeps crying out with every thrust, his voice going more and more ragged until he’s nearly hoarse, writhing and bucking underneath him.

“So tight,” Nasir gasps, burying himself to the hilt again and again. “Fuck the gods, how are you still so tight?”

He loses himself for a while, inside the hot, slick rhythm, the clenching muscles around his cock and the air thick with Agron’s hoarse moans and the wet, slapping noises of their slippery bodies parting and slamming back together. He only regains some focus when he feels Agron strain beneath him, voicing breathless nonsense; he feels him tighten, feels his own cock swell to bursting inside that tight channel, and picks up the pace, clutching at Agron’s hips while he fucks him as hard as he can, breathless and on fire with need. Agron’s hands dig into Nasir’s loose hair, pulling his face down to his lips. Nasir obliges him, although he doesn’t think he’s breathing as it is and thinks he may well suffocate in the wet, desperate kiss. He thrusts home one more time and Agron goes impossibly tight aground him, swearing breathlessly into Nasir’s mouth. He shudders and spills against Nasir’s belly, not nearly as much as before but the slick dribble, along with the powerful clench, is enough to send Nasir over the edge as well. He jerks forward with a shout and the sheer force of his climax seems to leech his senses dry for a moment or three, the world gone soundless and colourless around him. He thrusts and spurts, open-mouthed and jittery, feeling nothing except the tight clasp of Agron’s muscles around his cock, Agron’s hands digging into his back and Agron’s tongue swirling inside his mouth.

He comes to eventually, a buzzing sound receding in his ears and Agron’s hands stroking slowly through his hair and down his back. He’s sprawled across the lower part of Agron’s chest, still joined to him between their sprawling legs. They’re both slick with mingled oil and come, and the air in his lungs tastes wet and sweet and heavy. He lifts himself up with a groan and carefully slips out of Agron’s body. A milky trail of seed follows in the wake of his withdrawal, oozing from the gaping hole. He lifts his fingers to the swollen flesh, spreading the clear fluid around the rim, nudging just slightly inside. Agron makes a noise of protest and shifts his legs, trapping Nasir’s hand between his thighs.

“Have you no mercy?” he mutters. “I won’t walk for days as it is.”

Nasir smiles and withdraws his fingers with one final, feathery caress. “Nor I, I fear.” He drags himself up the length of Agron’s body, then topples clumsily to his side next to him.

Agron tilts his head to the side to look at him. With an unselfconscious groan, he hauls himself onto his side as well, so he can gaze fully into Nasir’s face. He looks delicious, Nasir thinks, utterly unravelled and clearly loving it. He leans forward to kiss him, deep and unhurried.

Agron hums into his mouth, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. He’s smiling when they pull apart. “You,” he says, brushing a thumb across Nasir’s bottom lip, “have been holding back knowledge” – another kiss, warm and lingering – “of how to fuck a man to pieces.”

Nasir grins back, although he can’t help a thread of unease. “Things I learned as a slave,” he says, unable to be anything but honest. “I was not sure you would approve.”

Agron snorts and rolls closer until they’re skin to skin. “Fuck the gods, I do not care how you came by such skill.” He pauses briefly, squinting at Nasir’s face. “Unless you hold struggle with it.”

Nasir shrugs, just lightly. “Less and less.”

Agron smiles at him, pressing the whole length of his body against Nasir’s. He wraps his arms around him and drags him close, large hands skimming down his back. “I am but pleased to be recipient of your skills.”

Nasir smiles back at him and holds him close. “You shall stand so again, then.”

“Good. Once I have recovered.”

Nasir laughs at that and burrows close, breathing the scent of Agron’s neck. “As I know you, that should not take too long.”