Alessandro looks up at the younger questioningly, drawing back "Do you wish to stop?" Leonardo shakes his head, covering his mouth with his hand and breathing heavily.
"I am sorry," Sandro places a comforting hand on his knee and smiles, "I am just a little nervous is all" he tries to put on a brave face, but is more grateful than he would let on when the artist still insists on giving him a few minutes to calm down.
He relaxes easily with the gentle, reassuring brushes of contact against his skin. They share a quiet look and Sandro hesitantly pours more oil on his fingers, moving his hand down between the blond's legs and applying pressure once more. This time there is only a soft gasp as he works his middle finger inside of the younger man. "Are you alright?"
Leonardo nods in response, trying not to wriggle away from the penetrating appendage. He feels the finger moving inside of him, curling against resistant muscles and stretching him by the barest of fractions. The sensation is strange, but he does not say anything and only squeaks when a second finger suddenly joins the first one.
There is a muttered apology and then the fingers are working to stretch him more. The freckled youth cannot help but shift about now, gasping when his inner walls are prodded and spread apart. Then Alessandro pulls the appendages back slightly, experimentally thrusting them forward and raising an eyebrow when his lover jolts at the motion. He tries once more and watches when Leonardo bites down on his bottom lip to muffle the noise which tries to escape.
The not so negative response prompts Sandro to begin a steady rhythm, thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting and curling to provoke more of the delightful sounds that are falling from Leonardo's beautiful lips. In his embarrassment the younger man turns away, pressing his burning cheek into the cool pillow as his fingers curl in the sheets. A third finger joins the others and the blond feels that twinge of pain which is a phantom of what warrants the oil.
Then the fingers are stretching him even more and it really does hurt now "A-Alessandro, stop, p-per favore" the stretching stops and he feels the appendages slide out of him after a moment of hesitance, making his heart skip a beat. His fist uncurls and the back of his hand lies flat against the pillow as he struggles to regain his breath. Leonardo wants to apologize for being so fainthearted but when their eyes meet his breath leaves him once more.
Sandro's eyes are filled with desire; the gentle patience once there is quickly wearing thin, his jaw clenches as lust slowly turns him into a predator far too long deprived of his prey. A shiver of excitement runs down Leonardo's spine and he pushes aside his shame to drag Alessandro down for a kiss. The pressure against his lips is bruising but the pleasure only mounts. The younger man feels his lover grinding against him and without giving himself time to think he reaches between them; shakily undoing the laces of Sandro's breeches.
He carefully strokes the hardness in his palm, encouraged by the soft groans Alessandro makes. When the fingers pushed back inside of him it is not so bad as the first time. Soon the pain fades away into the back of his mind, heat pooling in his gut as the fingers thrust into his body rhythmically, rubbing against his most intimate depths and making him see stars.
"Are you. . . ready?" the older man is obviously struggling to maintain his courtesy, something that Leonardo would find endearing if he could think clearly. Leonardo does not trust himself to speak anything coherent, nodding to give his consent for Sandro to proceed. As he is lying on his back waiting for his lover to coat himself in the olive oil he idly wonders if it will hurt a great deal to be penetrated with another man's erect member.
"I am sorry," Sandro places a comforting hand on his knee and smiles, "I am just a little nervous is all" he tries to put on a brave face, but is more grateful than he would let on when the artist still insists on giving him a few minutes to calm down.
He relaxes easily with the gentle, reassuring brushes of contact against his skin. They share a quiet look and Sandro hesitantly pours more oil on his fingers, moving his hand down between the blond's legs and applying pressure once more. This time there is only a soft gasp as he works his middle finger inside of the younger man. "Are you alright?"
Leonardo nods in response, trying not to wriggle away from the penetrating appendage. He feels the finger moving inside of him, curling against resistant muscles and stretching him by the barest of fractions. The sensation is strange, but he does not say anything and only squeaks when a second finger suddenly joins the first one.
There is a muttered apology and then the fingers are working to stretch him more. The freckled youth cannot help but shift about now, gasping when his inner walls are prodded and spread apart. Then Alessandro pulls the appendages back slightly, experimentally thrusting them forward and raising an eyebrow when his lover jolts at the motion. He tries once more and watches when Leonardo bites down on his bottom lip to muffle the noise which tries to escape.
The not so negative response prompts Sandro to begin a steady rhythm, thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting and curling to provoke more of the delightful sounds that are falling from Leonardo's beautiful lips. In his embarrassment the younger man turns away, pressing his burning cheek into the cool pillow as his fingers curl in the sheets. A third finger joins the others and the blond feels that twinge of pain which is a phantom of what warrants the oil.
Then the fingers are stretching him even more and it really does hurt now "A-Alessandro, stop, p-per favore" the stretching stops and he feels the appendages slide out of him after a moment of hesitance, making his heart skip a beat. His fist uncurls and the back of his hand lies flat against the pillow as he struggles to regain his breath. Leonardo wants to apologize for being so fainthearted but when their eyes meet his breath leaves him once more.
Sandro's eyes are filled with desire; the gentle patience once there is quickly wearing thin, his jaw clenches as lust slowly turns him into a predator far too long deprived of his prey. A shiver of excitement runs down Leonardo's spine and he pushes aside his shame to drag Alessandro down for a kiss. The pressure against his lips is bruising but the pleasure only mounts. The younger man feels his lover grinding against him and without giving himself time to think he reaches between them; shakily undoing the laces of Sandro's breeches.
He carefully strokes the hardness in his palm, encouraged by the soft groans Alessandro makes. When the fingers pushed back inside of him it is not so bad as the first time. Soon the pain fades away into the back of his mind, heat pooling in his gut as the fingers thrust into his body rhythmically, rubbing against his most intimate depths and making him see stars.
"Are you. . . ready?" the older man is obviously struggling to maintain his courtesy, something that Leonardo would find endearing if he could think clearly. Leonardo does not trust himself to speak anything coherent, nodding to give his consent for Sandro to proceed. As he is lying on his back waiting for his lover to coat himself in the olive oil he idly wonders if it will hurt a great deal to be penetrated with another man's erect member.
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