You can dance if you want to...
"Calm down," came the quiet, strained whisper. "You're doing fine..."
Calm down, he says. Easier said than done. Steven was a living wreck. The pads of his fingers dingging into pale shoulders, jaw clenched shut, harsh breathing through his nose, the dull pain of an intrusion upon his body, and the rapid drumming of his heart he swore would break his ribcage any second.
A breathy chuckle, cracking. "You said you weren't nervous."
Steven glared, out of focus on the Blue. "An immediate change of opinion," he grated from the depths of his throat. A couple more sharp inhales and exhales, eyes closed. "So how're you feeling."
A heady groan, and Wallace was burying his face into Steven's shoulder. "You don't want to know; you'd get jealous."
"Of myself?"
"Naturally." Pause. "Think you're ready?"
He took a moment to answer. "It's enough. Do it."
Wallace left a brief kiss on salty skin and straightened up; Steven felt a few jolts run through him, from the movement and the delectable flush on Wallace face. And with so much air between them, with Wallace looking -down- and it was his own legs flung open, Steven couldn't help but blush even harder.
Long fingers resting on his thighs and knees, his own erection some rosey-dark shadow against Wallace's stomach and God, he was losing his virginity all over again to the same damn man. Wallace better see what this meant-- "Ah!"
One thrust and he was tensing up all over again. Steven cursed in his head. But even the betrayal of muscles didn't stop the beginnings of a lazy pace.
*tease!* I'm so ebil.
Build-up sucks. Sex /now/ is always a delight. *snicker*