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Spiraculum

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            Agron woke slowly, drifting up out of sleep, a warm strip of sunlight across his face. He smiled and sighed; they breathed the air as free men now. The air of Hispania was warm and dry in a way that Nasir said reminded him of home.  They made their way casually up the coast, where they hoped to find passage back to Agron’s homeland.  Their lives were finally their own, and they had paid dearly for such freedom.

            But in the warm, sleepy light of morning, Agron pushed away grim thoughts and harsh memory. Instead, he propped up on an elbow to look at his lover. Nasir lay on his side, his face tucked into the arms that pillowed his head, hiding his eyes from the sunlight. He chest rose and fell softly with the calm breath of sleep. His loose, dark hair had fallen into his face and Agron reached out to brush it away.

            Nasir’s brow furrowed at the touch and his eye flickered open. He graced Agron with a bleary smile.  He reached out a hand, brushing his fingertips along the inside of Agron’s forearm.

            “You rarely wake before me,” Nasir sighed, his voice rough with sleep, “I feel I am growing soft.”

            Agron chuckled, pressing against Nasir, rolling the smaller man onto his back. A strongly muscled thigh pressed between Nasir’s legs, parting them, grinding slowly against his morning erection. A soft groan escaped him and his  feel back for a moment.  Agron grinned wickedly, racking Nasir’s hair back out of his face.

            “On the contrary,” he purred, pressing a hot kiss into the crook of Nasir’s neck and shoulder, “Morning finds you far from soft.”

            “Wicked letch,” Nasir groaned, lifting his hips, rolling them in tandem with the bigger man.

            “I don’t see you complaining,” Agron said, and Nasir could feel the other man’s erection, half hard against his hip.

            Nasir growled, wrapping a hand around the back of Agron’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.  Agron’s hands were quick to wander well-known paths across Nasir’s skin. Bodies moved together, slow and easy, but insistent and needing all the same.

            Agron backs off a bit when Nasir makes huffs, and not in pleasure. He furrows his brow, but Nasir simply laughs.

            “I truly am growing soft. Sleeping on such rocky ground causes the muscles to protest,” he explained and Agron gave him a relived smile.

            “Allow me to ease the ache, “ Agron said, rising to his knees, allowing Nasir to roll on to his stomach.

            The German man could not help but take a moment to admire the view. Still naked from the previous night, nothing was hidden from his gaze. Nasir’s dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, in a way that Agron’s fairer flesh could not. His dark hair, still mussed from sleep, reminded Agron of  a raven’s wing, so endlessly black a man could loose himself in it.The strong muscles of his back and shoulders shift under that beautiful skin when Nasir sighed contently, resting his chin on his folded arms. His eyes wandered lower still, to the firm flesh of Nasir’s backside and the German felt himself growing harder at the thought of what Nasir would allow him to do. Agron reached out, drawing a feather light trail down the valley of Nasir’s spine with his calloused fingers.

            “Enjoying yourself,” Nasir laughed, casting his lover a glance over his shoulder.

            Agron chuckled, his weight settling on the back of Nasir’s thighs, and giving the boy’s rear a pat.

            “Immensely,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of Nasir’s neck.

He felt the Syrian’s muscles ripple under his hands as a shiver of pleasure ran up the youth’s spine, the way it always did when Agron paid special attention to the spot. He took advantage of the position, resting his hands on Nasir’s back, splaying his hands wide, covering as much of the warm, bronze skin as he could. He nipped a line of tender bites along Nasir’s shoulder, and the Syrian responded with a throaty groan, tilting back his head to give Agron more room. Strong, sword calloused hands worked at the tight muscles, easing the tension away with well-practiced motions.  Nasir responded to the touches with pleased sighs and pleasant groans, pushing himself into every touch of Agron’s hands.

            “Better?” Agron asked, nipping the shell of Nasir’s ear, his thumbs needing the muscle in the small of the Syrian’s back, “or are there any other aches I can tend to for you?”

            Nasir cast him a mutinous look.

            “It’s too early for such teasing, you fuck,” he growled, need thick in his voice.

            Agron grinned broadly, his hands roaming lower.

            “Easy Little Man, do I not always take care of your needs,” he asked, giving the firm muscle of Nasir’s ass a testing squeeze.

            “Only after you drive me half mad with them,” the Syrian shot back.

            Agron chuckled and Nasir shot him another venomous look. The German let his fingers run along the cleft of his lover’s rear, following it down between his thighs,  stopping short of Nasir’s sack, before coming back up; never truly touching any of the places he knew the smaller man longed for. Nasir let out a shaky, breathless sound, something akin to a whine.

            “Yes,” Agron almost purred, trailing his tongue across the curve of Nasir’s shoulder, “But I do take care of them, so I remain a man of my word.”

            “A wicked man,” Nasir hissed though his teeth, trying to lift his hips into the touch. Agron’s weight on his thighs limited him, “A wicked cruel man, who I very much dislike right now.”

            “Then I shall try my best to regain your favor, little man,” he replied, reaching across Nasir’s body, into their half open pack at the edge of their makeshift tent. There wasn’t much of the oil left in the small green bottle, the one they had purchased from a perfume merchant in the city a few days before.  They would not be close to a town of any size for several days; if this was all they had left, he would be sure to make it count.

            He uncorked the bottle and drizzled a line of the shining oil into the hollow of Nasir’s back, down the line of his ass, filling the air with the scent of (name of perfume). Nasir’s breath caught for a moment, and he tilted his head, watching Agron over his shoulder, eyes hungry. Agron caught his gaze, never looking away as he diped his fingers into the oil, smearing it across Nasir’s dark skin. Then he was pressing two slick, calloused digits against Nasir’s opening, slowly entering into him. Nasir let out a sound, half groan and half whine, and Agron knew he’s found his place again in Nasir’s favor.

            Agron had found that he quiet enjoyed this aspect of their love making. So many of his tryst with other man had been drunken, sloppy, and quick; no time to enjoy the true subtleties of foreplay, of watching his lover melt while preparing his body for more. But Nasir, who had been poorly tended by so many, had taught him their was much more one could do to find pleasure with a man than place cock in ass. He was always careful to draw this out when he took Agron, and the German was happy to return the kindness, knowing the way it made his lover writhe, but knowing also that it made him feel good, to be so well tended.

            He teased Nasir with his fingertips, his free hand running up and down the younger man’s side or hip, leaning forward now and again to nip the exposed flesh of Nasir’s back and shoulders, just hard enough to mark. Nasir huffed, still watching Agron with half lidded eyes, trying to lift his hips and gain the depth of feeling he so badly needed. With a wolfish grin, Agron pressed his fingers in to their full length, touching the bundle of nerves within Nasir’s body that set his skin alight. The Syrian cried out, fingers digging into his own flesh. Agron smiled against Nasir’s skin as he pulls back, making his thrusts shallow, stretching the muscle careful before unexpectedly pushing in again. He did it over and over, and by the time Nasir begged him to add a third, the body beneath him was practically shaking with need.

            “Agron-AHHH- please, please,” the syrian pleaded, still watching his lover fuck him open. His fingers were fisted in the pallet now and a heady blush colored his cheeks. Agron’s cock went from hard to aching at the mere sight.

            Agron couldn’t argue with such a plea, nor did he have any urge to. He moved back, stroking his erection roughly with his oil slicked had. He eased himself into Nasir as slowly as he could manage, feeling the younger man push back against him as he settled his weight against Nasir. He rested on his knees and elbows, his chest pressed flush to Nasir’s back. He let his fingers tweak one of the Syrian’s pert nipples as the hot, impossibly tight body around him began to relax. He whispered endearments into Nasir’s ear as he felt the Syrian begin to breathe again, his body caught in the limbo between too much and not enough. When the smaller hips push back to meet him, to take him fully, he begins to move.

            His thrusts were slow and unhurried, just like his kisses, and they drew  ever longer, louder commands from Nasir’s lips. The Syrian’s head fell back and Agron couldn’t help the hand that came up and wrapped gently around the smooth column of Nasir’s throat, feeling the pulse pounding against his palm. Nasir’s eyes fluttered and he laced his fingers with those of Agron’s free hand, holding tight. He demanded Agron’s movements be harder, faster, deeper, orders sprinkled through a barrage of panted curses and moaned repetitions of Agron’s name. It wasn’t long before Nasir lost all words though, beyond his lover’s name, though he was no less vocal.

            Agron knew his lover was close, could feel the muscles tightening around his aching cock. He guided their joined hands down Nasir’s body, wrapping them around Nasir’s rigid sex, weeping and painfully hard.  The youth let out a half sob as Agron helped him stroke himself. He drove his hips harder, hitching them up with every thrust, striking the place of pleasure as directly as he can. His lover’s body was practically thrumming around him, his breath coming in heavy pants, constant reiterations of Agron’s name. He had to release Nasir’s neck, trying to take some of their combined weight. Nasir was already shaky, when he came, there would be no way he could hold the both of them up.

            Agron felt the muscles tighten around his cock, as the heat began to pool in his own belly. Nasir cried out, back arching and fingers clawing at his lover as he came. Agron growled, willing himself to keep moving fucking Nasir through it, working the youth’s cock with their hands.

            Orgasm left Nasir shaking, but he eased Agron’s hand from his cock, folding his arms beneath his head, taking as much weight as he could on his knees, the muscles of his strong thighs visibly quivering. He watched Agron over his should and gave him a sated smile. The German thanked the gods, lifting himself on to his knees, grasping Nasir’s hips in his hands. He pounded his lover relentlessly, feeling the sharp tugging in the lower abdomen, the sensation of his balls drawing up. Nasir tilted and rolled his hips, happy to simply give as he whispered encouragements to Agron, ran brushed dark fingertips up and down the man’s thigh. Then Agron was there, his thrusts faltering as he came.

            The lay together after, on their backs, Nasir’s head resting on Agron’s arm as they caught their breath.

            “Where do we go now,” Nasir asked, the afterglow of pleasure still plain in his voice.

            “Where ever we wish,” Agron said, stroking his fingers through Nasir’s dark hair, “We are free men now. Free to travel and speak and fuck wherever we please. But I say we head north still, catch a ship and sail to my homeland.”

            Nasir watched him, smiling.

            “Tell me another story of your homeland.”