The lube’s cool, though David doesn’t really understand the implication of that until Lourdes is sucking in a quick, uncomfortable breath when David presses his middle finger against him. “Cold,” Jake says when David stills, afraid he’s already done something wrong, something telling.

“Sorry,” David says., then wonders very seriously for a moment what the hell kind of person Lourdes is that he takes something that’s rightfully David’s, and David is the one apologising all night.

“S’cool,” Lourdes says, taking another breath in, shakier this time, when David presses his finger in. Lourdes is tight, almost painfully so, so tight that David wonders how he’s actually supposed to get his dick in.

He goes slowly by necessity, Lourdes relaxing incrementally around him, until he says, “You can use another,” and David does, unable to stop looking at the clench of his hole, the muscles of his ass, the long line of his back, unbroken by anything other than a few moles, his head pillowed on his arms, mostly hidden by the fall of his hair.

Even with his face obscured, he’s responsive, hips shifting up against David’s fingers, at first incremental and then more when David’s three fingers deep, his breath hitching into a caught moan when David presumably hits his prostate.

His muscles are tense, coiled, but he stays open around David’s fingers, practically greedy, and this wasn’t supposed to be punishment, David isn’t a monster, but it bothers him, the way Lourdes takes it, as easy as David is with him, though in Lourdes’ case, he’s probably that easy for everyone. David’s only easy for him, and he hates that about himself.

“Fuck me,” Lourdes says, muffled into his arm, and when David stills, more distinct, “David, fuck me.”

David pulls his fingers out, fumbling for a condom, wrinkling his nose when he has to wipe his fingers off on the sheets before he can manage to get it open, fumbling with the lube’s flip top like it’s rocket science. It doesn’t help that he can’t stop looking at where Lourdes is open, and slick, where he’d been tight around David’s fingers and will be tighter around his dick.

“David,” Lourdes says, sounding impatient, and David slicks himself, looking out at the wide open Las Vegas night just so he isn’t looking at Lourdes.

“Get up on your knees,” David says, voice miraculously steady, even if his hands aren’t. Lourdes does, and it’s easy, it’s so easy to wrap a hand around himself, guide himself into the tight clutch of Lourdes’ body, which takes him in like he’s meant to be there.

“Just — slow,” Lourdes says, voice as shaky as David’s wasn’t, and there isn’t really another option. Lourdes is so tight around him David feels like he’s in a vise grip, though he’s never associated that phrase with the positive before.

David’s slow until he isn’t, until he can’t be, a hand on Lourdes’ hip, another on his cock, half-hard until David gets his hand around it, which gets Lourdes’ breath back to a panting, uneven pull, gets Lourdes tightening around him every time David rubs his thumb against the tip of his cock.