Page 85 of The Kiss Principle

“Not to put too fucking fine a point on it.”

He gave me his Zé smile, that lazy, surf bum smile. “I want you to fuck me, Fernando, because I want you to fuck me. If I want to fuck you, I’ll ask. If you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is tell me. Although, you might have to jump straight to being a cowboy while my knee is healing.”

I rubbed the red spot on his thigh, feeling the dark hair there, the thickness of his powerful legs. The way he lay, with one leg bent, exposed a hint of his hole, and I could see a scattering of more dark hair there.

“If it’s too much,” Zé said gently, “it’s okay. I want to be with you, and I wanted to tell you what I wanted.”

“No,” I said. “No, I want to. I turned into a fucking bobblehead when you asked me, remember? I don’t want to, uh, do it wrong. Hurt you, I mean. Or, I don’t know. Be bad at it. It’s different from with a girl, I mean.”

“We’ll go slow,” he said. The dark brown of his eyes swallowed me. “You’ll take care of me.”

I will, I thought. I always will.

I had lube and a condom in the nightstand, and hail Mary, mother of God, the condom wasn’t expired. In the videos I’d watched, sometimes the guys fingered each other to loosen up, and sometimes they went straight to the pounding. Since I figured gay porn couldn’t be any more realistic than straight porn, that probably meant going straight to pounding wasn’t an option. I helped Zé get into position on his side, which was easier with his knee, and I parted his cheeks with one hand.

Aside from porn, I hadn’t spent much time around assholes. It was darker than the skin around it. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but he smelled like Zé—a little thicker, a little muskier, but not dirty.

“You okay?” Zé asked.

I nodded and squirted lube on my fingers. I ran my index finger over his hole a few times. The texture surprised me, but even more surprising was that Zé made a little contented noise. Not going to lie, that chubbed me right up. I added a little more lube, and when I felt his hole relax, I pressed against it. The resistance lasted long enough that I almost stopped, and then my finger slipped inside.

He was hot. And tight. Both of those things caught me off guard. Then I remembered this wasn’t about me and checked his face.

“I’m good,” he said. And then, with a tiny smile, “You have thick fingers, and it’s been a while.”

“Do you want me to—”

“No, don’t move.” He closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed. “I’m good, Fernando. I’m good. You’re making me feel so good.”

I eased my finger partway out and slid it in again. I’d read enough porn to know the theory. I pressed and pulled on the ring of muscle, forcing it to relax. I’d kind of forgotten about the prostate until—

“Meu Deus,” he grunted, and his whole body tightened, his hole spasming around my finger.

A smile spread across my face. He looked up at me from under hooded eyes, his expression dazed. “Hello,” I said and did it again.

A groan ripped through him, and then my name: “Fernando.”

I liked how that sounded.

As I worked a second finger inside him, I stretched down and kissed him. In return, his kiss was sloppy and broken. His hips jerked, and he groaned as I twisted my fingers, working the bulge of my knuckles past his rim. His leg was shaking. I stroked his flank with my free hand and kissed him again, and again, he struggled to respond, his mouth only partially sealing against mine as I found that spot inside him again and another punched-out noise escaped him.

“Fuck me,” he said against my mouth. His stubble scraped my lips.

“You’re still pretty tight.”

“Fernando, fuck me.” The words sounded dragged out of him. “Fuck me right now.”

Who was I to argue?

I unwrapped the condom and rolled it on as Zé watched from under those hooded eyes. It took me two tries. I was trembling, and part of it was because this was a first (even if it wasn’tthefirst), and part of it was because it had been a long time. I gave us each a little more lube, and then we shifted around until our bodies aligned. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and a flush spread across his chest, up his throat, into his cheeks. His hair was a fucking mess, and I had a vision of pulling on it, drawing his head back as I drove into him. Not today, not while his knee was still touch-and-go. But one day.

He was so tight. So tight that at first, I thought he wasn’t going to let me in. But it was like it had been with my finger; right when I thought I should pull back, right when I thought we needed to try some more stretching, muscle relented, and he took me inside him. He grunted, and I stopped with barely more than the head of my dick inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?”

Zé shook his head. After several long seconds, he nodded, and I eased forward again. His hole clutched me, and eventhough I was trying to stay focused on him, on making sure he was okay, it was hard not to make comparisons, for my brain to register all the ways this was different and new and—yes—fucking amazing. He reached out blindly, found my hip, and urged me forward again. And then again. And then I was fully seated. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and then his eyes opened to slits.

“You feel so big inside me,” he murmured.

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