Water On Fire [MileApo | mxm]

20

Apo disposes of Mile's shirt like it's personally offended him, and trails his fingers lightly over Mile's chest, gaze heated and awed. He's turned on, and what are best friends for, if not to offer a helping hand?

For all his manliness, Apo loves to be kissed like a piece of vintage glass. Mile must rein his passionate impulses in and honor that vulnerability. He clutches Apo's face and gently kisses his plump lips, along the stubbled, angular plane of his jaw. He pulls Apo's shirt off, kissing each inch of skin as it's revealed, taking his time tracing Apo's torso with his mouth. With lips and tongue, he explores and lingers each line and curves of his flesh. He kisses his way down until he finds the toy, removes it gently, and replaces it with his tongue. Apo is already slick and tasting of cherries. Mile gazes up at him incredulously.

This may be the longest Apo has ever gone without talking. He likes to narrate even when Mile is blowing him. But tonight, Apo is speaking only with his body and his expressive eyes, surrendering himself like an offering to be deflowered. He nods toward the nightstand.

Mile finds more cherry lube in the top drawer, along with a towel and condoms, and removes them with trembling hands. He feels woefully unprepared, and, at the same time, as if he's been prepared for this moment his entire life. Apo places a hand over Mile's heart. Mile knows he can sense the pounding.

Nothing feels heavier than unsaid words, and those unsaid words have never felt heavier. But Mile finally has a way to say them without having to say them. Apo lays on on his back and spreads his legs for Mile. His mouth looks very pretty, all slick and puffy and pink with kisses. He gives Mile a look that burns, smoulders. Adding more lube, Mile opens Apo gently with his fingers, just stretching him. He fumbles with the condom, wondering if he'll ever get his senses about him enough to it on properly. It's finally happening and Mile is slightly terrified.

On his first attempt, Apo hisses and grips his pec hard, fingernails digging brutally into the pale flesh. Mile stills. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Mile probably shouldn't be the one shaking, but he is. It's only when Apo thumbs at his cheekbone that Mile notices the faint wetnesses. You haven't even put it in yet and you're already crying.

Mile is ready to climb out of his skin when Apo's defences finally give way for him. He's never been inside anything so tight. He strives to be tender, responsible, but it's hard to believe that it's Apo he's sinking into - finally. He thinks of everything they've been through together, and puzzles at the sensation of knowing him this way for the first time. This is coming home. Mile never wants to leave this place.

Apo screws his eyes shut. The quiet stillness of the night is disrupted only by the soft, impatient sighs and quick breaths Apo emits, and the distant sounds of traffic from the open window. When Apo squeezes his shoulder, Mile knows to pause, slow down. He thrills at the way that Apo is biting his lip, trembling, lashes fluttering. Mile fancies being his first, his last, his everything.

He thumbs at the corners of Apo's eyes until they flutter open. Apo has all of him now.

When those eyes tell him to, Mile hitches Apo's thighs up higher, braces himself, and starts to fuck into Apo properly, rhythmically. Sparks run through him, pleasure building in his core. It is unbridled, exquisitely addictive love. He won't last.

Apo emits a sharp cry when Mile nudges the soft spot inside him which, when stimulated, make him see stars. Mile hits it over and over again, punching out a symphony of soft groans and harsh pants from him. And now, finally, words. One word. Mile's name falls from Apo's lips, sounding wrecked. Apo has said Mile's name a lot over the last two and a half years. But he's never sounded like this.