Page 74 of Speak in Fever
Percy leans back on his heels again and leans over to the bedside table and opens the drawer..
“How do you want to–” Percy asks, fishing the bottle out of the drawer and throwing it on the bed.
“Want to see you.” He knows it might not be the easiest or most comfortable for the first time, but he also knows that he needs to see Percy while this is happening. There's nothing in the world that grounds him like seeing Percy, knowing that he's close by.
So Percy nods, and he nudges Rath to lift his hips so he can pull his pants down, and then his underwear. He slides a pillow underneath him and pushes Rath's knees up towards his chest and settles himself. He slicks his fingers, and with his free hand traces a light trail up Rath's thighs with soft, sure fingers, places light teasing kisses. Then, once Rath is relaxed, he lightly presses his finger to Rath's hole and circles it gently. He tenses on instinct and Percy brings his lips back to Rath's thigh and patiently waits.
“You're doing good,” he says, a quiet murmur, barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” Rath says after a pause, once his thighs have unclenched, and Percy looks up at him and slowly, slowly presses in. They’ve done this before, but it feels different every time. Rath makes his body relax, the crown of his head pressing down into the pillow.
It's a slow exploration, the careful unfolding of a map as Percy explores. Percy stretches him carefully, searching, and finally–
“Fuck,’ Rath pants, a strangled half-gasp, half-moan jumping from his throat.
He can hear the smile in Percy's voice as he says, “There we go.”
“Yeah,” Rath says, staring up at the ceiling, knees still hugged tight to his chest. “Yeah, fuck, there. Fuck, more, please. More.”
Percy adds a second, and Rath braces himself against the stretch again, pushing his head down into the pillow. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” Percy murmurs. “So good for me, Rath,” he says as he reaches his fingers upwards again, and another whine rips itself from Rath's throat.
Rath feels as though his entire body is trembling, a thousand tiny little earthquakes.
“You always look so good coming apart on my fingers,” Percy says again. “Can’t wait to have you on my cock.”
Rath can only imagine how he looks. Sweat-slicked skin and blown pupils, whining and eyes rolling back into his head.
Percy works him open with slow, careful and practiced movements, gently repeating things like “Good, so good, Rath,” and peppering soft kisses on his thighs until Rath is whimpering and begging, his vocabulary reduced just to the words 'fuck' and 'please.'
“One more,” Percy tells him, and when he adds a third finger along with more lube, he also wraps his hand around Rath's cock. The dual sensations are so fucking overwhelming in the best possible way that Rath thinks he might simply cease to exist.
“Percy, please, I'm gonna– fuck if you don't stop I'm gonna come. Please, please, I want– I need you to fuck me, please.”
Percy nods, and pulls his fingers from Rath slowly. It draws out another whimper because he feels so empty, but then Percy is there again, climbing on top of him, eye-level with him and moving Rath's legs apart. He pauses. '
“Do you want me to wear a condom?” he asks, reaching out for the lube again to slick himself up, and Rath's heart feels so fucking full at how clearly Percy wants this to be good for him.
Rath shakes his head. “Want you,” he mumbles, reaching up for a kiss. “Want all of you.”
“Okay, just– it might be a lot. Tell me if you need me to stop, or slow down or–”
“Just. Do it, please. I want you,” he says, and Percy nods and kisses him again before pushing in just slightly. Rath chokes on a moan and bites down onto his lip.
He feels Percy still and he shakes his head. “No, don't stop,” he says, letting out a shuddering breath. “Keep going,” he says. “It's just– a lot.” He feels like he’s said that so many times but there’s no other way he can describe it – the fullness, the intimacy, theway that he feels like his heart might burst with the way Percy is looking at him.
Rath's fingers clutch at the sheets as Percy's grip tightens on his hips. He pushes in all the way, slowly, and then pauses. Rath breathes in deeply.
“Okay?” Percy asks. There's something slightly strangled about his own voice and suddenly it hits Rath that this is almost just as intense for him, so he reaches down and finds his hand, intertwining Percy's fingers with his.
“Yeah, you can– you can move. Fuck, please, move.”
Percy moves in short, shallow thrusts that are somehow at once so much and nowhere near enough. The stretch of it, the strange fullness dissipates under Percy's movements and his soft kisses, until there's nothing else but Percy and his deep eyes, the concentration of his brow and the way his teeth dig into his lip. Nothing but how good it feels to have him like this, to have given all of himself to Percy. To trust anyone this much.
Rath tightens his thighs around Percy and digs his heels into his back, and Percy takes his earlobe between his teeth and murmurs, “Christ, Rath. You feel so fucking good.” Rath would respond, but he's so far beyond words that when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a hitched, shuddering moan as Percy hits his prostate once more. Rath grips Percy's face between hands, and he doesn't have the words to express how he feels about any of this, so he kisses Percy and hopes that his lips and his tongue and the sweet, sweet messiness of it will say what he can't.
Percy reaches down a hand between them and takes Rath’s cock, timing each stroke perfectly with the thrust of his hips and Rath feels like he's been pulled back like the line on a slingshot waiting for release. “Come on, baby,” Percy says, lips grazing his neck and sucking at the spot there, until Rath whines and whimpers. “Rath, fuck, come on. I'm so close, I know you'reclose. Come for me, Rath. Be a good boy and come for me,” he says, something tense and strained in his words, like he's barely holding it together himself. The words send something through Rath, shivering and gasping, and he feels Percy come inside him, warm and filling. It’s like nothing else he's ever felt. He comes with a wail, spilling over his chest with a final cry.
Afterwards, with Percy's body slumped half on his, he can't find words. He turns and finds Percy's eyes and soft smile, lets his head fall easily against his hand, and kisses the knob of his wrist with lazy, kiss-drunk lips.
