“Robbie, fuck me now, okay? Just, fuck. I’m ready. Do it.”

Robbie pulls his head back, wiping a string of saliva off his mouth onto his shoulder. He’s made a wet mess of Lance’s perfect balls, and it’s a satisfying sight.

“I don’t—” he starts to say, but Lance growls an interruption.

“Put some lube on the condom, and fuck me.”

Robbie’s finger is still deep inside Lance’s body. He crooks the finger experimentally, shuddering at the bracket of tightness around the base of his finger, and the wider passage beyond that is so smooth to the touch.

Lance bucks back on his hand. “Please, please, please,” Lance is babbling. “I need you, right now.”

Those prove to be the exact words Robbie needs to hear to roll on the condom and kneel behind Lance. His hole still looks impossibly tight, but after having his finger inside, and having seen plenty of porn, Robbie knows Lance can take him. Still, he hooks his teeth over his lower lip and strokes Lance’s flanks, hesitating.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to put in another finger first?”

Lance shakes his head. “No. Please. Do it. I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

So, Robbie lines himself up and then presses himself forward, one tiny increment at a time, almost dizzy with the effort of restraint. But after about five seconds of this, slowly breaching Lance with the head of his cock, Lance makes a frustrated noise and pushes himself back against Robbie, and Robbie’s dick slides in a few inches until it’s half-sheathed.

“Holy—God,” Robbie gasps, gripping Lance’s hips. Instinct overcomes his hesitation, and he eases himself forward the rest of the way, panting by the time he bottoms out. Lance’s spit-wet balls are pressed warmly against his, and even through the condom, he can feel the smooth sleeve of Lance’s ass like velvet.

“God,” he murmurs again, bending his head so he can nuzzle the sweat-damp curls at Lance’s nape, “you feel amazing.”

“So do you,” Lance whispers back, and then he rocks back against Robbie—just an inch of range in his motions, but the friction is bliss. “But I said to fuck me,” he reminds Robbie. “So, do it, for fuck’s sake.”

Robbie laughs against the back of his neck. “So bossy.” But then he straightens his back, and does as he’s told.

He’s never been inside this part of someone’s body, but the act isn’t unfamiliar in every way, and Robbie experiments with things past partners have liked—rolling his hips, shifting the angle, keeping his hand busy on Lance’s chest, then between his legs. But there are differences, too. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to touch anyone quite so much. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so constantly inundated with his own pleasure. He isn’t chasing an orgasm; it’s always a hair’s breadth away, and it’s just Robbie’s will that’s holding it back.

When he finds a slow rhythm and a certain angle that make Lance wail, he doesn’t stop or slow. Sweat breaks out on Robbie’s shoulders and rolls down his back. The pressure in his balls builds to a point where it’s so intense that, for a moment, Robbie thinks he won’t be able to bring Lance over the edge before he comes himself.