Fic: Brave New World
Story: Brave New World
Chapter Title: no point running cause it’s coming your way
Fandom: Spartacus
Pairing: Agron/Nasir
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The one where Nasir works at a sex shop in Soho and Agron is studying a year abroad.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, apart from my obsessive enthusiasm for the show. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Eh, I don't even know why I'm doing this to myself. I should be writing my thesis, I really should. Anyway, chapter titles are lines from Stormrider by Deep Purple, and obviously I don't have any rights to this song either.
Brave New World
chapter one: no point running cause it’s coming your way
Nasir works at a sex shop. He does, it is not just a pick-up line. The shop is called The Spunky Corner and Nasir knows all about butt plugs, condom flavours, anal beads, dildos, cock rings, the latest porn releases and whatnot. It is a good job in a great location - there are worse places to be gay and work than in a sex shop in Soho. Nasir is twenty-three, out and proud, and he should be happy. It’s just that, well, whenever he tells anyone about where he works, they come to the conclusion that he is this extra kinky sex god. He does not mind the last part, but the extra kinky is troubling because Nasir is not. For a good two years he enjoyed the innuendos and tried to live up to expectations. He’s got his exotic looks working for him, too. But when it comes down to it, he would just like to have sex absent expectations of any acrobatics for fucking once. He gives great head, or so he has been told, loves to top and bottom, and he makes an awesome breakfast for when a bloke decides to stay the night. Some do. Since he’s quit college and moved to Soho he had two relationships that deserved the name but the last four months have been fucking bleak. Fucking. Bleak.
Nasir rips open a box with handcuffs and puts them to the side for labelling, sorting them by colour.
“I want a pair of the black plushy ones,” Naevia says and makes grabby hands.
Nasir rolls his eyes and hands her a pack. He will most definitely get to hear if Crixus likes them. Naevia has been his flatmate for what feels like forever but have really been fifteen months and Nasir has seen and heard plenty of proof of her bisexuality, however many morons doubt that it exists.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks after stuffing the handcuffs into her fashionably oversized bag.
Nasir shrugs. “Dinner. Hanging out with Cas, maybe.”
“Cas.” Naevia sounds disapproving.
“I know he pissed you off when he flirted with Crixus but he flirts with everyone. He’s my mate, don’t make it a thing.”
“I just think you might actually meet someone if Cas wasn’t doing his thing all the time. And he always drags you to these god-awful parties.” Naevia huffs. Nasir does not reply because she has got a point. But it has always been like this between Cas and him, that is just the way they are.
“So how about--”
The door bell chimes and two really built men enter the shop. Nasir sees that they cut out the necks of their T-shirts, a thing he fucking hates because how big can your neck possibly be? He has never seen them before. One darts to the side, whilst the other stays where he is, slightly overwhelmed by the shop. Immediately, Nasir marks them down as tourists.
“Guck mal das hier an, wie wär’s damit?”
German tourists.
“Duro, why couldn’t you do this at home?”
“Ugh, you take speaking English all the time too seriously, bro. I didn’t to do this at home for the same reason you wouldn’t. It’s a small fucking town and I don’t want Mutti to know before Nina. Or at all, really.”
“Get on with it then!”
Nasir only half-listens and starts labelling the handcuffs. He does notice that their English is nearly flawless, much better than he expected.
“Damn! Got to run, Nasir, or I’m gonna be late for work. See you,” Naevia says and gives him a peck on the cheek. She has trouble pushing past the Germans because they take up a lot of space.
“How do you even know that she’d like this kind of thing?” the slightly taller bloke with the ridiculously broad shoulders asks.
“So last month, there was this time when we watched Pornos and --”
“Stop right there! Is that ‘need to know’? ”
“You asked, Blödmann!”
“You’re my brother, and there are mental images I don’t need. Gross, man!”
“Suit yourself. Anyway, I know she’d love it and I’m kind of curious myself.”
“Just choose one,” the taller brother demands. Nasir suppresses a smile at his discomfort. A lot of people feel uncomfortable in sex shops but coming here with a sibling is bound to be awkward. Nasir’s brother knows about his job, of course, but Nasir would never bring Firas to The Spunky Corner. Not that this is likely to happen anyway - Firas lives in Syria after all.
“Gibt’s die nur in einer Größe?”
“Woher soll ich das denn wissen? Frag doch mal!” The answer comes in a hushed voice, too low for Nasir to hear, and after a minute’s exchange of loud whispers, the taller guy exclaims, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
Nasir slides off the box he is sitting on and puts the labelling machine down. His policy is to wait till his customers approach him. Being too helpful an employer in a sex shop usually scares people away, but he has worked here too long not to see where this is going.
He straightens up and turns, his face nearly colliding with a very broad chest.
“Ugh, sorry,” Nasir says automatically and steps back. The lighting is dim because their stock sells better this way. The shop is also quite crammed and narrow because space in London is fucking expensive. Nasir hasn’t seen his customers up close until he nearly walked into one just now. He looks up into green eyes and his mind goes blank.
There is definitely such a thing as lust at first sight and Nasir is experiencing it right now. He has a thing for tall men and this one is fit, so he just stares for a few seconds. The man’s face is a little softer and rounder than he would have expected, and it is covered with carefully groomed stubble. There is no mistaking that Nasir, too, is being checked out.
“Was denn jetzt?” the brother calls, impatiently, and breaks the spell.
Tall Guy gives him a wide, slightly embarrassed smile and, fuck the gods, he has dimples!
“My fault,” Nasir’s customer says. “I, er, could you come and help my brother with, er, something?”
“No problem at all,” Nasir says and moves towards where he knows the brother is standing. He also knows that they have been looking at nipple clamps for the last ten minutes.
“Hi, how can I help?” Nasir asks. There is a definite family resemblance but this one, the younger brother, Nasir assumes, looks a bit cuter and less sexy. He has got dreadlocks and he looks as flustered and confused as he sounded earlier.
“Er, so…can you recommend some?”
Nasir smiles. “Sure. For yourself or --”
“No. Well, yes. For me and my girlfriend,” Dreadlocks stumbles through the answer.
“Okay, I’d go with these then,” Nasir says and grabs a sealed package. “They are good quality and also come with instructions.”
Dreadlocks eagerly takes them, a grateful look in his eyes, and starts examining the package.
“Gratitude,” Tall Guy says, from behind Nasir, who immediately gets goose bumps.
“Sure,” Nasir says, looking over his shoulder and giving him a slow smile.
“Yeah, I’m taking them. Thanks, man, where do I pay?” Dreadlocks asks.
“Follow me!” Nasir leads the way into the back of the shop. The lighting here is better and Nasir can make out that, even though they obviously hit the gym together, they have different styles. Dreadlocks wears a green T-shirt with a cannabis leaf print, and washed-out red shorts, whilst Tall Guy is covered by a huge, loose-fitting plain black T-shirt and jeans. The jeans are enjoyably tight.
“That’s 12,99, please,” Nasir tells them and puts Dreadlocks’ purchase in a bag.
“Can I pay by card?” Dreadlocks asks and Nasir nods, readying the machine.
He cannot help stealing a glance at the name on the card. Duro Markus Menz. Dreadlocks Duro types in the code and Nasir uses the opportunity to smile at Tall Guy again, whose green eyes, he realises with a pleasant shiver, have been fixed on him the whole time. The machine makes a noise as the paper confirming payment is pushed out. Too bad, he would have enjoyed flirting with Tall Guy some more.
“Thank you, have a great day,” Nasir says, handing Dreadlocks Duro his card and pushes the receipt into the bag.
“Is it weird working in a sex shop?” Tall Guy blurts out suddenly. Dreadlocks gives him a surprised look.
“Not really after three years, no,” Nasir replies.
“Three years, huh?” Tall Guy seems to have exhausted his small talk abilities.
“Come on, bro,” Dreadlocks Duro urges his brother and wanders off to the door, only to be distracted by the gay porn section. They don’t have a het porn section, which Dreadlocks is soon to discover.
“Er, well, I’ll see you around,” Tall Guy says, looking somewhat put out.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Nasir replies emphatically. Name, he does not even know his name.
“Boah, Agron!” Dreadlocks Duro calls. Nasir smiles. Agron.
They’re at the door when Nasir hears Dreadlocks Duro speaking again, loudly and excitedly. “Wusstest du, dass das ein Schwulen-Sexshop ist? Meinst du, der kleine Kerl ist auch schwul?”
“Duro, halt die Klappe,” his brother tells him and slaps the back of his head.
***
Nasir follows Cas to a god-awful party that night because Nasir is bored and horny and…yeah. He knows a lot of the faces. The low techno beat thumps through his body as he makes his way to the bar.
“Hey, Nasir!” Someone close-by shouts his name and waves frantically.
“Lugo!” Nasir shouts and waves back but points to the bar. If he gets sidetracked now he is never going to get a drink. Lugo is too nice to be a regular at parties like these but Lugo is also fucking ancient, as in going on forty, so he does not have a choice. Nasir should probably find a way to say no to Cas but pulling here provides easy gratification, which, being twenty-three, he can afford. Cas did not like Nasir’s last boyfriend and he often tells him that being single is the best thing that has happened to him. And they do have fun, especially when they are recapping their nights at a greasy spoon.
Armed with a Becks, he lets his eyes wander. Cas is already chatting up the hottest man at the party, so same old, same old. Nasir can spot two men he got blowjobs from in the past but neither of them were any good. He heaves a sigh and focuses on his beer, wondering if he should just call it a night.
Someone falls back to lean against the wall next to him. “Hi, how you’re doing?”
Nasir sees a shock of dark red hair and a handsome face with full lips and dark-brown eyes. “Not too bad,” he says. “You?”
“Better now,” the guy replies with a smile. “I’m Mark.”
“Nasir.”
“Wanna dance?”
Half an hour, four shitty songs and one beer later they are on the roof where it is quieter, well, relatively speaking. Nasir can hear moans and grunts coming from a few dark corners. Mark is not quite handsome, his nose is too thin and hawkish for his face, but he looks interesting, has decent dance moves and a mouth made for cock-sucking.
“So what are you doing?”
Here it comes. “I work at a sex shop.”
“For real?”
“Yep.”
“I sell cars. Your job sounds more exciting, to be honest.”
“It’s all right but not as exciting as people think it is,” Nasir says.
Mark leans in and breathes, “Wanna show me how exciting?” Nasir groans inwardly but, yeah, what did he expect? He puts the beer down and draws Mark back into an alcove.
Mark would have liked to join him but Nasir goes home alone. His room feels a bit empty and Nasir feels a bit sorry for himself. Brushing his teeth, he recaps the night. There was the surprise of Mark’s tongue piercing, which totally made up for his lame lines. Then his mind wanders to the two Germans in the shop. If only Agron had not been so tongue-tied, he could have got his number and then…well, what? Nasir sighs, drinks a glass of water and then waits for sleep to come whilst trying to block out the sounds of Crixus making the most of the handcuffs.
***
Nasir has nearly forgotten about Agron, because it has been two weeks since the German Quest for Nipple Clamps, when the shop bell chimes and there he stands in all his glory. Only he looks even better because this T-shirt is tight and has a fucking V-neck. He can also see why the other one had the neck cut out.
Agron’s eyes browse the shop until they find him. “Hi,” he calls. It is a slow afternoon and he is the only customer. He walks over to where Nasir is checking the list of the newest DVD releases. “Remember me?”
“More nipple clamps?” Nasir asks with a wry smile and Agron lets out a startled cough and blushes. Doomed, Nasir is doomed.
“Er, no. Although you may be more pleased than I to hear that they were met with great enthusiasm by Nina. That’s my brother’s girlfriend.” Flustered, Agron speaks too fast and there is still a bit of colour in his cheeks.
“So he went back home on his own?” Nasir asks without thinking.
“Oh, yeah. Duro was here only for three weeks to help me settle in before my course starts up. I’m doing an Mphil in Archaeology at King’s.”
“I see. Well, what can I help you with today if it’s not nipple clamps?” Nasir knows it is evil but he would like to see that blush again. Agron obliges.
“Er, I…er. Lube. I would like to buy some lube. Forgot mine in Germany.”
This is obviously a spur-of-the moment pretence or at least Nasir hopes it is. He really wants it to be, although he has no problem selling lube to the man. No problem at all.
“Sure. Any preferences or allergies?” he asks, locking the laptop. “I’m Nasir, by the way.”
“Agron,” Agron says and gives him a look of pure relief. Clearly, flirting does not come easy to him. “And no. I mean, no preferences, no allergies.”
Nasir reaches for his favourite brand once they have reached the shelf. He grins. “It comes recommended.”
Agron grins back and the dimples make a glorious comeback.
“Oi, Nasir, will you ever learn to charge that fucking phone of yours?” Cas’s voice carries through the shop.
“Excuse me a sec.” With slight regret Nasir turns to his friend.
“I’m at work, Cas. What’s so urgent?”
“Oh, I can see you’re busy. Hello, gorgeous,” Cas says, pushing past Nasir. Agron is not prepared for this and his face carries a look between annoyance and confusion. He does not reply and before there is an awkward silence Cas shrugs and turns back to Nasir. “There’s this wet pants contest in Thebes tonight. You coming?”
Could there be a less opportune moment for a wet pants contest? Nasir groans inwardly. “I’ll pass.”
“What, why? I’ve seen you in --”
“Cas! Not now. I’ll call you later, okay?” This is not happening to him.
“Maybe I should come back another time,” Agron says and discreetly puts the tube back on the shelf. Yes, definitely annoyed now.
Nasir throws Cas a look that leaves no room for arguments and nods towards the door.
“Fine!” Huffy, his mate leaves the shop.
“Sorry,” Nasir says quickly. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Agron frowns, evidently unsure of what to do next, so Nasir just goes for it.
“You want to grab dinner later? I’m done at eight.” Breathless, he waits for an answer.
“Aren’t you otherwise engaged? Wet pants and all.” Agron tries for humorous and fails.
“No,” Nasir says quietly and looks straight into Agron’s eyes.
“Okay. Eight.”
The rest of the day stretches fucking endlessly and Nasir admits to himself that he is nervous. It’s the dimples.
***
Agron is waiting outside when Nasir locks up the shop, and he greets him with a wide toothy smile. “Hey.” He looks more relaxed than earlier and it suits him. Out on the street, he seems even taller and broader and Nasir heroically pushes away all thoughts that would make walking uncomfortable.
They head to Nasir’s favourite Indian restaurant, Agron becoming more and more animated and talkative as they walk along.
“London is fucking amazing,” he says. “Have you always lived here?”
Nasir shakes his head. “I’ve come to the UK when I was five.”
“Oh?”
“My dad’s Syrian and my mum was Italian. They died in a car crash near Rome and my brother and I grew up with my grandma in North London.”
“Shit. Sorry,” Agron says.
“Don’t worry, I barely remember them. It is what it is.”
They share naan bread and dips before Agron eats his way through a huge thali whilst Nasir has his favourite curry.
“So you are here for a year? What made you come to England?” Nasir asks, curious.
“I had to get out of my backwards town. We’ve got more cows than people and it’s just not for me. I miss my brother already but it was time to leave.” Something about the way he says it makes Nasir take notice.
“I take it there isn’t much of a gay scene in your backwards town?”
Agron snorts and takes a sip from his mango lassi. “You bet there isn’t. One of the reasons I came here is that it’s a big-ass city.”
“Made any friends yet?”
“Yeah, you,” Agron says with a happy smile and Nasir’s stomach wobbles. “And my flatmates, especially Spartacus.”
“You have a flatmate named Spartacus?”
“It’s not his real name but he’s this stellar second-year History PhD student researching the Third Servile War and everyone calls him that. He’s a bit intense but a really nice guy. His best friend’s named Crixus and that’s his real name.”
“Shoulder-long hair, beefy, manic gleam in his eyes?” Nasir asks, dreading the answer.
“Yeah, you know him?”
“He might be dating my flatmate.”
Agron laughs and Nasir’s stomach makes another summersault. “Small world.”
Time flies by and they leave only when the owner starts sweeping the floor. Nasir may be a little in love with Agron’s dimples and his spectacular arm muscles. He has got nice skin, too, and he is not into rap music, thank the gods.
“Old school,” Agron tells him. “AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, that kind of thing.”
Nasir, who is into indie rock, smiles happily. They leisurely stroll to Tottenham Court Road, and Nasir realises that this was the nicest, least taxing date he has been on in years. Spending time with Agron is like hanging out with a friend, only that he would also very much like to climb him and lick his neck. More and more doomed is what Nasir is.
They eventually reach the underground and Nasir would not mind walking double the distance again if he could just spend some more time with Agron. He gets a sudden bout of nerves, certain that he wants to see Agron again but afraid that something will yet manage to fuck up this night, and he pulls off the band holding back his hair, nervously busying himself running his hands through it.
“Nasir.” Agron’s voice is low and it is the first time he calls Nasir by his name. It comes out a bit wrong, the s softer than it is, but it is so fucking sexy that Nasir’s mouth goes dry. The way Agron looks at him just then make him weak in the knees. And then Agron’s hands take hold of his face and he leans down, and it is the most romantic slow-mo kiss that has ever happened to Nasir, right there next to the staircase leading down to the London underground. It is soft and tender, a mere touching of the lips, before Nasir reaches up to get a hold of the nape of Agron’s neck. He teases Agron’s lips open with his tongue, and his heart is in his throat because this kiss is awesome. Agron’s thumbs stroke his cheeks while his tongue is licking into his mouth and Nasir thinks it’s fucking perfect.
And then a drunk woman stumbles into them, her friends laughing while pulling her away. “Sorry!” they shout and laugh some more.
They look at each other, shocked by the interruption. An embarrassed laugh bubbles up Nasir’s throat and then Agron is laughing too.
“I take it next time I’ll come to see you at work you won’t make me buy anything?” Agron asks, still smiling.
“You didn’t buy anything today,” Nasir replies. “Though the lube does come recommended.”
The expression on Agron’s face changes, switching from mirth to desire in a heartbeat. “Fuck, don’t!”
Nasir likes that he can do this to Agron but he also likes that they are not already grinding against each other against a wall, so he bites his tongue. Instead he asks for Agron’s phone and types in his number. His hand lingers on Agron’s when he gives the phone back and then Agron is gone and Nasir walks home, smiling until his face hurts.
He checks his phone every five minutes, because he is pathetic like that. His heart speeds up when there is finally a text from an unknown number.
Just so you have my no. too. Dinner was great…dessert more so, see you soon! x
Nasir saves the number and…he really needs to stop smiling.
***
The next morning, in spite of a grievous lack of sleep, Nasir is walking on fucking sunshine.
“Wow, must have been a great wet pants contest,” Naevia comments when they meet in the kitchen. She is already halfway through her muesli.
“What?” Nasir asks, confused, as he pours hot water over his tea bag. “I didn’t go. How do you know?”
“I ran into Cas on the way home. He had come by to persuade you but you weren’t in yet. I told him to try your phone again.”
There had been three missed calls by Cas, which Nasir ignored before going to sleep, his mind full of Agron. “Yeah, I told him I’d pass.”
Naevia looks surprised. “So what did you do that makes you so disgustingly chipper?”
“I went on a date. It was nice.”
“Understatement of the year if that annoying glow is anything to go by,” she comments dryly.
“It was really fucking nice,” Nasir volunteers, knowing that vagueness drives Naevia up the wall.
“You came home alone?”
“It was a date, not a fuck.”
At this, Naevia’s face lights up. “Good for you. Okay, work’s calling. Could you take out the bin today? Thanks, Nasir.”
Naevia works at a piercing studio and she is rather good at her job. She is also a bit of a sadist and likes making inappropriate jokes to terrified customers. It is where she met Crixus but so far Nasir has not yet discovered where she pierced him, which is probably for the better. They are perfectly matched because both of them are fucking insane.
It is his day off but when the phone rings he just knows that it is his boss about to ask for a favour. She does that a lot. He considers not picking up but that would not be like him.
“Nasir? Hi. It’s Chadara.”
“Morning,” Nasir mumbles.
“I know it is your day off but I am stuck in Edinburgh. Could you pleeeeaaaase fill in for me today?”
Chadara comes from a filthily rich family. She owns The Spunky Corner but Nasir has come to do the day-to-day business and she pays him decent money. Chadara admires his work ethic because she has none, and Nasir is used to fill in for extra pay. It would have been nice to have the day off though.
“Sure, of course.”
“You’re a daahling,” she says and hangs up. Nasir sighs and sips his tea. Saturdays are busy and he was hoping to have some time for himself. But at least he has a job.
It is a busy Saturday and sales are good. Thoughts of kissing Agron carry Nasir through day. Only after he closes the door behind the last customer who happened to buy a year’s worth of condoms with tutti-frutti flavour does Nasir notice that there are no new messages from Agron. The sinking feeling of disappointment is a shitty end for a long day.
He considers calling Cas but Nasir does not want to fuck it better and Cas is not one for other options. It’s when he locks up for the night that he spots a tall figure across the street, and his heart skips a beat.
“Hey,” he says when Agron stands in front of him. “How are you?”
“Good,” Agron says noncommittally, and ads with German brusqueness, “So I wasn’t sure if coming by today would count as stalkery.”
He really looks as though he is not sure, so Nasir is quick to say that it doesn’t. Agron smiles, relieved.
“Any plans for tonight?” asks Nasir, although he has a pretty good guess that Agron would not be here if he did.
“Depends on what you’re doing,” is Agron’s reply. He is wearing a dark green T-shirt, which is definitely his colour.
“I had planned to stay in and cook,” Nasir says, not quite lying. He would have cooked and then spent the night on the internet. “Nothing exciting,” he adds.
“No wet pants contest on today?” Honestly, why can no one let this go? It’s not as though he even fucking went there.
“Not unless I do laundry,” Nasir quips. “So…dinner at mine? We could watch a film.”
Agron looks eager but something seems to be holding him back.
“I’m a pretty good cook,” Nasir adds. Come on!
“Okay, I’m in,” Agron finally says and his smile is fucking breathtaking. They go shopping at Sainsbury’s and just the thought of having Agron in his flat makes Nasir giddy. He does not let Agron pay for any of the groceries, which makes Agron cross, so Nasir is okay with him buying two bottles of wine which are on offer.
Naevia isn’t home; she might be staying at Crixus’s. Agron looks around curiously and he’s so tall that their flat looks even smaller than it is. The flat has a living room the size of a large cupboard, and Nasir’s room is adjacent to the kitchen whilst Naevia’s is next to the bathroom.
“I didn’t think they exist but there is a goddamned carpet in your bathroom,” Agron says excitedly after using the loo.
“I guess that’s not a thing in Germany?” Nasir has already started chopping the vegetables. Agron opens the first bottle of red and then they’re both cutting and chopping and it’s nice. Dinner is pretty damn good and Nasir feels smug when Agron has seconds despite a reported dislike of green peppers. And then they’re kissing whilst doing the dishes and Agron’s hands are wet and covered in foam that rustles against Nasir’s ear when Agron cups his face.
“Sorry, didn’t want to get you wet,” he says with a grin, and this cheeky, flirty Agron grows on Nasir more and more.
They start the second bottle when they settle down in the living room. Agron looks too large for the small sofa and Nasir hopes that he can keep his hands to himself for at least part of the film. On the other hand, he knows the film, and Agron is ridiculously attractive and just there. Nasir leans in to press a wet, lingering kiss against his neck during the opening credits and the noise Agron makes goes straight to his cock. Fifteen minutes in, Agron’s hands are buried in Nasir’s hair and Nasir is straddling his lap. They are both breathless when Nasir suggests moving it to his room. Agron sucks on his lower lip and palms him through his jeans in response and Nasir nearly quashes the plan then and there.
Divested of his T-shirt, Agron looks ravishing and Nasir makes disturbing mental associations with the heroes on Mills and Boon covers. They have made it to Nasir’s room and even onto his bed - on their third attempt - and now Agron is busy kissing Nasir’s chest. They are still wearing jeans, which Nasir has to work on as soon as Agron stops, fuck, licking his right nipple in a way that connects it straight to his painfully hard dick.
“Off,” he says and, clumsy with eagerness, fumbles with the buttons - two, for fuck’s sake - of Agron’s jeans. Agron smiles, probably at how monosyllabic he has become, and starts working on Nasir’s jeans instead. He pulls them down his narrow hips together with his pants. The remainder of Nasir’s coherency leaves him when Agron’s tongue licks up the length of his cock. He doesn’t hurry as he sucks him into his mouth slowly and, fuuuuck, lovingly tongues the slit. Nasir is in no doubt that Agron loves cock, and that he loves having his down Agron’s throat. He is so hard it hurts and his hands are numbly reaching for Agron’s shoulders to hold on to for dear life as Agron’s starts sucking him.
“Shit, Agron,” he manages to warn him mere seconds before he comes in hot, thick spurts inside Agron’s mouth. He looks down just as Agron swallows around him, which wrings another spurt out of his cock, and a low shuddery breath escapes him. Nasir trembles as he comes down from his orgasm and then Agron’s on top of him, kissing and nibbling his neck again, and Nasir doesn’t quite know how he manages to open Agron’s fly but he does. After a bit of shifting, Agron’s jeans are down around his knees and Nasir’s hand is wrapped around his cock. He pulls the foreskin back and rubs the head with his thumb, and Agron’s responding groan makes him shiver. Agron’s half on top of him, half on his side, allowing his hand better access, and Nasir just wants to tease more of these noises out of him and moves his hand as firmly and steadily as the awkward position allows. Agron feels big and heavy in his hand, fucking amazing, and he leans in to whisper just that into Agron’s ear. The reaction is more than he expected.
“Gott!” Agron gasps, as his whole body tenses, and Nasir feels him coming all over his hand and against his thigh.
“I’ve never had sex with anyone not speaking German before,” Agron confesses when they cleaned themselves up and lie entwined under Nasir’s duvet. He is tall enough to kind of wrap himself around Nasir, which is insanely hot and also really fucking nice. Nasir lets his fingers glide lightly over Agron’s arms and back, enjoying his warmth and the post-coital feeling of closeness.
“Hmmm,” he makes, content. “You’re my first Hun.” He gives Agron a mischievous grin and kisses the corner of his mouth, rightly assuming that he won’t mind the teasing.
“Can I stay?” Agron asks after a few minutes and Nasir pulls him closer in response. That man should try fucking leaving!
“You don’t really think I’d kick you out, do you?”
“Just checking,” Agron says and nuzzles his neck.
“So I’m your first Syrian? Granted, I’m more Roman than Syrian.”
“Yeah,” Agron manages in-between feathery kisses on his neck. It has been forever since Nasir has felt this good.
“Not much variety in that backwards town of yours?”
“Not much of anything. Got my first kiss when I did mandatory community service instead of military service, followed by my first everything else. I was nineteen.”
“Fuck,” Nasir says and presses a kiss against Agron’s biceps. “That sounds bleak.” He feels Agron shrug.
“It was all right.”
“So no potential boyfriends closer to home? I got my first blowjob when I was in high school.”
“You have a few years of experience on me then,” Agron says.
“I don’t know,” Nasir says, twisting in Agron’s arms. “Your mouth is pretty awesome.”
Agron’s smile is part flattered, part embarrassed. He doesn’t get to hear these things often, Nasir suspects, and decides to change that. Agron leans in for a kiss and it’s so tender and adoring that Nasir never wants it to end. He falls asleep in Agron’s arms.
…to be continued
Chapter Title: no point running cause it’s coming your way
Fandom: Spartacus
Pairing: Agron/Nasir
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The one where Nasir works at a sex shop in Soho and Agron is studying a year abroad.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, apart from my obsessive enthusiasm for the show. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Eh, I don't even know why I'm doing this to myself. I should be writing my thesis, I really should. Anyway, chapter titles are lines from Stormrider by Deep Purple, and obviously I don't have any rights to this song either.
Brave New World
chapter one: no point running cause it’s coming your way
Nasir works at a sex shop. He does, it is not just a pick-up line. The shop is called The Spunky Corner and Nasir knows all about butt plugs, condom flavours, anal beads, dildos, cock rings, the latest porn releases and whatnot. It is a good job in a great location - there are worse places to be gay and work than in a sex shop in Soho. Nasir is twenty-three, out and proud, and he should be happy. It’s just that, well, whenever he tells anyone about where he works, they come to the conclusion that he is this extra kinky sex god. He does not mind the last part, but the extra kinky is troubling because Nasir is not. For a good two years he enjoyed the innuendos and tried to live up to expectations. He’s got his exotic looks working for him, too. But when it comes down to it, he would just like to have sex absent expectations of any acrobatics for fucking once. He gives great head, or so he has been told, loves to top and bottom, and he makes an awesome breakfast for when a bloke decides to stay the night. Some do. Since he’s quit college and moved to Soho he had two relationships that deserved the name but the last four months have been fucking bleak. Fucking. Bleak.
Nasir rips open a box with handcuffs and puts them to the side for labelling, sorting them by colour.
“I want a pair of the black plushy ones,” Naevia says and makes grabby hands.
Nasir rolls his eyes and hands her a pack. He will most definitely get to hear if Crixus likes them. Naevia has been his flatmate for what feels like forever but have really been fifteen months and Nasir has seen and heard plenty of proof of her bisexuality, however many morons doubt that it exists.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks after stuffing the handcuffs into her fashionably oversized bag.
Nasir shrugs. “Dinner. Hanging out with Cas, maybe.”
“Cas.” Naevia sounds disapproving.
“I know he pissed you off when he flirted with Crixus but he flirts with everyone. He’s my mate, don’t make it a thing.”
“I just think you might actually meet someone if Cas wasn’t doing his thing all the time. And he always drags you to these god-awful parties.” Naevia huffs. Nasir does not reply because she has got a point. But it has always been like this between Cas and him, that is just the way they are.
“So how about--”
The door bell chimes and two really built men enter the shop. Nasir sees that they cut out the necks of their T-shirts, a thing he fucking hates because how big can your neck possibly be? He has never seen them before. One darts to the side, whilst the other stays where he is, slightly overwhelmed by the shop. Immediately, Nasir marks them down as tourists.
“Guck mal das hier an, wie wär’s damit?”
German tourists.
“Duro, why couldn’t you do this at home?”
“Ugh, you take speaking English all the time too seriously, bro. I didn’t to do this at home for the same reason you wouldn’t. It’s a small fucking town and I don’t want Mutti to know before Nina. Or at all, really.”
“Get on with it then!”
Nasir only half-listens and starts labelling the handcuffs. He does notice that their English is nearly flawless, much better than he expected.
“Damn! Got to run, Nasir, or I’m gonna be late for work. See you,” Naevia says and gives him a peck on the cheek. She has trouble pushing past the Germans because they take up a lot of space.
“How do you even know that she’d like this kind of thing?” the slightly taller bloke with the ridiculously broad shoulders asks.
“So last month, there was this time when we watched Pornos and --”
“Stop right there! Is that ‘need to know’? ”
“You asked, Blödmann!”
“You’re my brother, and there are mental images I don’t need. Gross, man!”
“Suit yourself. Anyway, I know she’d love it and I’m kind of curious myself.”
“Just choose one,” the taller brother demands. Nasir suppresses a smile at his discomfort. A lot of people feel uncomfortable in sex shops but coming here with a sibling is bound to be awkward. Nasir’s brother knows about his job, of course, but Nasir would never bring Firas to The Spunky Corner. Not that this is likely to happen anyway - Firas lives in Syria after all.
“Gibt’s die nur in einer Größe?”
“Woher soll ich das denn wissen? Frag doch mal!” The answer comes in a hushed voice, too low for Nasir to hear, and after a minute’s exchange of loud whispers, the taller guy exclaims, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
Nasir slides off the box he is sitting on and puts the labelling machine down. His policy is to wait till his customers approach him. Being too helpful an employer in a sex shop usually scares people away, but he has worked here too long not to see where this is going.
He straightens up and turns, his face nearly colliding with a very broad chest.
“Ugh, sorry,” Nasir says automatically and steps back. The lighting is dim because their stock sells better this way. The shop is also quite crammed and narrow because space in London is fucking expensive. Nasir hasn’t seen his customers up close until he nearly walked into one just now. He looks up into green eyes and his mind goes blank.
There is definitely such a thing as lust at first sight and Nasir is experiencing it right now. He has a thing for tall men and this one is fit, so he just stares for a few seconds. The man’s face is a little softer and rounder than he would have expected, and it is covered with carefully groomed stubble. There is no mistaking that Nasir, too, is being checked out.
“Was denn jetzt?” the brother calls, impatiently, and breaks the spell.
Tall Guy gives him a wide, slightly embarrassed smile and, fuck the gods, he has dimples!
“My fault,” Nasir’s customer says. “I, er, could you come and help my brother with, er, something?”
“No problem at all,” Nasir says and moves towards where he knows the brother is standing. He also knows that they have been looking at nipple clamps for the last ten minutes.
“Hi, how can I help?” Nasir asks. There is a definite family resemblance but this one, the younger brother, Nasir assumes, looks a bit cuter and less sexy. He has got dreadlocks and he looks as flustered and confused as he sounded earlier.
“Er, so…can you recommend some?”
Nasir smiles. “Sure. For yourself or --”
“No. Well, yes. For me and my girlfriend,” Dreadlocks stumbles through the answer.
“Okay, I’d go with these then,” Nasir says and grabs a sealed package. “They are good quality and also come with instructions.”
Dreadlocks eagerly takes them, a grateful look in his eyes, and starts examining the package.
“Gratitude,” Tall Guy says, from behind Nasir, who immediately gets goose bumps.
“Sure,” Nasir says, looking over his shoulder and giving him a slow smile.
“Yeah, I’m taking them. Thanks, man, where do I pay?” Dreadlocks asks.
“Follow me!” Nasir leads the way into the back of the shop. The lighting here is better and Nasir can make out that, even though they obviously hit the gym together, they have different styles. Dreadlocks wears a green T-shirt with a cannabis leaf print, and washed-out red shorts, whilst Tall Guy is covered by a huge, loose-fitting plain black T-shirt and jeans. The jeans are enjoyably tight.
“That’s 12,99, please,” Nasir tells them and puts Dreadlocks’ purchase in a bag.
“Can I pay by card?” Dreadlocks asks and Nasir nods, readying the machine.
He cannot help stealing a glance at the name on the card. Duro Markus Menz. Dreadlocks Duro types in the code and Nasir uses the opportunity to smile at Tall Guy again, whose green eyes, he realises with a pleasant shiver, have been fixed on him the whole time. The machine makes a noise as the paper confirming payment is pushed out. Too bad, he would have enjoyed flirting with Tall Guy some more.
“Thank you, have a great day,” Nasir says, handing Dreadlocks Duro his card and pushes the receipt into the bag.
“Is it weird working in a sex shop?” Tall Guy blurts out suddenly. Dreadlocks gives him a surprised look.
“Not really after three years, no,” Nasir replies.
“Three years, huh?” Tall Guy seems to have exhausted his small talk abilities.
“Come on, bro,” Dreadlocks Duro urges his brother and wanders off to the door, only to be distracted by the gay porn section. They don’t have a het porn section, which Dreadlocks is soon to discover.
“Er, well, I’ll see you around,” Tall Guy says, looking somewhat put out.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Nasir replies emphatically. Name, he does not even know his name.
“Boah, Agron!” Dreadlocks Duro calls. Nasir smiles. Agron.
They’re at the door when Nasir hears Dreadlocks Duro speaking again, loudly and excitedly. “Wusstest du, dass das ein Schwulen-Sexshop ist? Meinst du, der kleine Kerl ist auch schwul?”
“Duro, halt die Klappe,” his brother tells him and slaps the back of his head.
***
Nasir follows Cas to a god-awful party that night because Nasir is bored and horny and…yeah. He knows a lot of the faces. The low techno beat thumps through his body as he makes his way to the bar.
“Hey, Nasir!” Someone close-by shouts his name and waves frantically.
“Lugo!” Nasir shouts and waves back but points to the bar. If he gets sidetracked now he is never going to get a drink. Lugo is too nice to be a regular at parties like these but Lugo is also fucking ancient, as in going on forty, so he does not have a choice. Nasir should probably find a way to say no to Cas but pulling here provides easy gratification, which, being twenty-three, he can afford. Cas did not like Nasir’s last boyfriend and he often tells him that being single is the best thing that has happened to him. And they do have fun, especially when they are recapping their nights at a greasy spoon.
Armed with a Becks, he lets his eyes wander. Cas is already chatting up the hottest man at the party, so same old, same old. Nasir can spot two men he got blowjobs from in the past but neither of them were any good. He heaves a sigh and focuses on his beer, wondering if he should just call it a night.
Someone falls back to lean against the wall next to him. “Hi, how you’re doing?”
Nasir sees a shock of dark red hair and a handsome face with full lips and dark-brown eyes. “Not too bad,” he says. “You?”
“Better now,” the guy replies with a smile. “I’m Mark.”
“Nasir.”
“Wanna dance?”
Half an hour, four shitty songs and one beer later they are on the roof where it is quieter, well, relatively speaking. Nasir can hear moans and grunts coming from a few dark corners. Mark is not quite handsome, his nose is too thin and hawkish for his face, but he looks interesting, has decent dance moves and a mouth made for cock-sucking.
“So what are you doing?”
Here it comes. “I work at a sex shop.”
“For real?”
“Yep.”
“I sell cars. Your job sounds more exciting, to be honest.”
“It’s all right but not as exciting as people think it is,” Nasir says.
Mark leans in and breathes, “Wanna show me how exciting?” Nasir groans inwardly but, yeah, what did he expect? He puts the beer down and draws Mark back into an alcove.
Mark would have liked to join him but Nasir goes home alone. His room feels a bit empty and Nasir feels a bit sorry for himself. Brushing his teeth, he recaps the night. There was the surprise of Mark’s tongue piercing, which totally made up for his lame lines. Then his mind wanders to the two Germans in the shop. If only Agron had not been so tongue-tied, he could have got his number and then…well, what? Nasir sighs, drinks a glass of water and then waits for sleep to come whilst trying to block out the sounds of Crixus making the most of the handcuffs.
***
Nasir has nearly forgotten about Agron, because it has been two weeks since the German Quest for Nipple Clamps, when the shop bell chimes and there he stands in all his glory. Only he looks even better because this T-shirt is tight and has a fucking V-neck. He can also see why the other one had the neck cut out.
Agron’s eyes browse the shop until they find him. “Hi,” he calls. It is a slow afternoon and he is the only customer. He walks over to where Nasir is checking the list of the newest DVD releases. “Remember me?”
“More nipple clamps?” Nasir asks with a wry smile and Agron lets out a startled cough and blushes. Doomed, Nasir is doomed.
“Er, no. Although you may be more pleased than I to hear that they were met with great enthusiasm by Nina. That’s my brother’s girlfriend.” Flustered, Agron speaks too fast and there is still a bit of colour in his cheeks.
“So he went back home on his own?” Nasir asks without thinking.
“Oh, yeah. Duro was here only for three weeks to help me settle in before my course starts up. I’m doing an Mphil in Archaeology at King’s.”
“I see. Well, what can I help you with today if it’s not nipple clamps?” Nasir knows it is evil but he would like to see that blush again. Agron obliges.
“Er, I…er. Lube. I would like to buy some lube. Forgot mine in Germany.”
This is obviously a spur-of-the moment pretence or at least Nasir hopes it is. He really wants it to be, although he has no problem selling lube to the man. No problem at all.
“Sure. Any preferences or allergies?” he asks, locking the laptop. “I’m Nasir, by the way.”
“Agron,” Agron says and gives him a look of pure relief. Clearly, flirting does not come easy to him. “And no. I mean, no preferences, no allergies.”
Nasir reaches for his favourite brand once they have reached the shelf. He grins. “It comes recommended.”
Agron grins back and the dimples make a glorious comeback.
“Oi, Nasir, will you ever learn to charge that fucking phone of yours?” Cas’s voice carries through the shop.
“Excuse me a sec.” With slight regret Nasir turns to his friend.
“I’m at work, Cas. What’s so urgent?”
“Oh, I can see you’re busy. Hello, gorgeous,” Cas says, pushing past Nasir. Agron is not prepared for this and his face carries a look between annoyance and confusion. He does not reply and before there is an awkward silence Cas shrugs and turns back to Nasir. “There’s this wet pants contest in Thebes tonight. You coming?”
Could there be a less opportune moment for a wet pants contest? Nasir groans inwardly. “I’ll pass.”
“What, why? I’ve seen you in --”
“Cas! Not now. I’ll call you later, okay?” This is not happening to him.
“Maybe I should come back another time,” Agron says and discreetly puts the tube back on the shelf. Yes, definitely annoyed now.
Nasir throws Cas a look that leaves no room for arguments and nods towards the door.
“Fine!” Huffy, his mate leaves the shop.
“Sorry,” Nasir says quickly. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Agron frowns, evidently unsure of what to do next, so Nasir just goes for it.
“You want to grab dinner later? I’m done at eight.” Breathless, he waits for an answer.
“Aren’t you otherwise engaged? Wet pants and all.” Agron tries for humorous and fails.
“No,” Nasir says quietly and looks straight into Agron’s eyes.
“Okay. Eight.”
The rest of the day stretches fucking endlessly and Nasir admits to himself that he is nervous. It’s the dimples.
***
Agron is waiting outside when Nasir locks up the shop, and he greets him with a wide toothy smile. “Hey.” He looks more relaxed than earlier and it suits him. Out on the street, he seems even taller and broader and Nasir heroically pushes away all thoughts that would make walking uncomfortable.
They head to Nasir’s favourite Indian restaurant, Agron becoming more and more animated and talkative as they walk along.
“London is fucking amazing,” he says. “Have you always lived here?”
Nasir shakes his head. “I’ve come to the UK when I was five.”
“Oh?”
“My dad’s Syrian and my mum was Italian. They died in a car crash near Rome and my brother and I grew up with my grandma in North London.”
“Shit. Sorry,” Agron says.
“Don’t worry, I barely remember them. It is what it is.”
They share naan bread and dips before Agron eats his way through a huge thali whilst Nasir has his favourite curry.
“So you are here for a year? What made you come to England?” Nasir asks, curious.
“I had to get out of my backwards town. We’ve got more cows than people and it’s just not for me. I miss my brother already but it was time to leave.” Something about the way he says it makes Nasir take notice.
“I take it there isn’t much of a gay scene in your backwards town?”
Agron snorts and takes a sip from his mango lassi. “You bet there isn’t. One of the reasons I came here is that it’s a big-ass city.”
“Made any friends yet?”
“Yeah, you,” Agron says with a happy smile and Nasir’s stomach wobbles. “And my flatmates, especially Spartacus.”
“You have a flatmate named Spartacus?”
“It’s not his real name but he’s this stellar second-year History PhD student researching the Third Servile War and everyone calls him that. He’s a bit intense but a really nice guy. His best friend’s named Crixus and that’s his real name.”
“Shoulder-long hair, beefy, manic gleam in his eyes?” Nasir asks, dreading the answer.
“Yeah, you know him?”
“He might be dating my flatmate.”
Agron laughs and Nasir’s stomach makes another summersault. “Small world.”
Time flies by and they leave only when the owner starts sweeping the floor. Nasir may be a little in love with Agron’s dimples and his spectacular arm muscles. He has got nice skin, too, and he is not into rap music, thank the gods.
“Old school,” Agron tells him. “AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, that kind of thing.”
Nasir, who is into indie rock, smiles happily. They leisurely stroll to Tottenham Court Road, and Nasir realises that this was the nicest, least taxing date he has been on in years. Spending time with Agron is like hanging out with a friend, only that he would also very much like to climb him and lick his neck. More and more doomed is what Nasir is.
They eventually reach the underground and Nasir would not mind walking double the distance again if he could just spend some more time with Agron. He gets a sudden bout of nerves, certain that he wants to see Agron again but afraid that something will yet manage to fuck up this night, and he pulls off the band holding back his hair, nervously busying himself running his hands through it.
“Nasir.” Agron’s voice is low and it is the first time he calls Nasir by his name. It comes out a bit wrong, the s softer than it is, but it is so fucking sexy that Nasir’s mouth goes dry. The way Agron looks at him just then make him weak in the knees. And then Agron’s hands take hold of his face and he leans down, and it is the most romantic slow-mo kiss that has ever happened to Nasir, right there next to the staircase leading down to the London underground. It is soft and tender, a mere touching of the lips, before Nasir reaches up to get a hold of the nape of Agron’s neck. He teases Agron’s lips open with his tongue, and his heart is in his throat because this kiss is awesome. Agron’s thumbs stroke his cheeks while his tongue is licking into his mouth and Nasir thinks it’s fucking perfect.
And then a drunk woman stumbles into them, her friends laughing while pulling her away. “Sorry!” they shout and laugh some more.
They look at each other, shocked by the interruption. An embarrassed laugh bubbles up Nasir’s throat and then Agron is laughing too.
“I take it next time I’ll come to see you at work you won’t make me buy anything?” Agron asks, still smiling.
“You didn’t buy anything today,” Nasir replies. “Though the lube does come recommended.”
The expression on Agron’s face changes, switching from mirth to desire in a heartbeat. “Fuck, don’t!”
Nasir likes that he can do this to Agron but he also likes that they are not already grinding against each other against a wall, so he bites his tongue. Instead he asks for Agron’s phone and types in his number. His hand lingers on Agron’s when he gives the phone back and then Agron is gone and Nasir walks home, smiling until his face hurts.
He checks his phone every five minutes, because he is pathetic like that. His heart speeds up when there is finally a text from an unknown number.
Just so you have my no. too. Dinner was great…dessert more so, see you soon! x
Nasir saves the number and…he really needs to stop smiling.
***
The next morning, in spite of a grievous lack of sleep, Nasir is walking on fucking sunshine.
“Wow, must have been a great wet pants contest,” Naevia comments when they meet in the kitchen. She is already halfway through her muesli.
“What?” Nasir asks, confused, as he pours hot water over his tea bag. “I didn’t go. How do you know?”
“I ran into Cas on the way home. He had come by to persuade you but you weren’t in yet. I told him to try your phone again.”
There had been three missed calls by Cas, which Nasir ignored before going to sleep, his mind full of Agron. “Yeah, I told him I’d pass.”
Naevia looks surprised. “So what did you do that makes you so disgustingly chipper?”
“I went on a date. It was nice.”
“Understatement of the year if that annoying glow is anything to go by,” she comments dryly.
“It was really fucking nice,” Nasir volunteers, knowing that vagueness drives Naevia up the wall.
“You came home alone?”
“It was a date, not a fuck.”
At this, Naevia’s face lights up. “Good for you. Okay, work’s calling. Could you take out the bin today? Thanks, Nasir.”
Naevia works at a piercing studio and she is rather good at her job. She is also a bit of a sadist and likes making inappropriate jokes to terrified customers. It is where she met Crixus but so far Nasir has not yet discovered where she pierced him, which is probably for the better. They are perfectly matched because both of them are fucking insane.
It is his day off but when the phone rings he just knows that it is his boss about to ask for a favour. She does that a lot. He considers not picking up but that would not be like him.
“Nasir? Hi. It’s Chadara.”
“Morning,” Nasir mumbles.
“I know it is your day off but I am stuck in Edinburgh. Could you pleeeeaaaase fill in for me today?”
Chadara comes from a filthily rich family. She owns The Spunky Corner but Nasir has come to do the day-to-day business and she pays him decent money. Chadara admires his work ethic because she has none, and Nasir is used to fill in for extra pay. It would have been nice to have the day off though.
“Sure, of course.”
“You’re a daahling,” she says and hangs up. Nasir sighs and sips his tea. Saturdays are busy and he was hoping to have some time for himself. But at least he has a job.
It is a busy Saturday and sales are good. Thoughts of kissing Agron carry Nasir through day. Only after he closes the door behind the last customer who happened to buy a year’s worth of condoms with tutti-frutti flavour does Nasir notice that there are no new messages from Agron. The sinking feeling of disappointment is a shitty end for a long day.
He considers calling Cas but Nasir does not want to fuck it better and Cas is not one for other options. It’s when he locks up for the night that he spots a tall figure across the street, and his heart skips a beat.
“Hey,” he says when Agron stands in front of him. “How are you?”
“Good,” Agron says noncommittally, and ads with German brusqueness, “So I wasn’t sure if coming by today would count as stalkery.”
He really looks as though he is not sure, so Nasir is quick to say that it doesn’t. Agron smiles, relieved.
“Any plans for tonight?” asks Nasir, although he has a pretty good guess that Agron would not be here if he did.
“Depends on what you’re doing,” is Agron’s reply. He is wearing a dark green T-shirt, which is definitely his colour.
“I had planned to stay in and cook,” Nasir says, not quite lying. He would have cooked and then spent the night on the internet. “Nothing exciting,” he adds.
“No wet pants contest on today?” Honestly, why can no one let this go? It’s not as though he even fucking went there.
“Not unless I do laundry,” Nasir quips. “So…dinner at mine? We could watch a film.”
Agron looks eager but something seems to be holding him back.
“I’m a pretty good cook,” Nasir adds. Come on!
“Okay, I’m in,” Agron finally says and his smile is fucking breathtaking. They go shopping at Sainsbury’s and just the thought of having Agron in his flat makes Nasir giddy. He does not let Agron pay for any of the groceries, which makes Agron cross, so Nasir is okay with him buying two bottles of wine which are on offer.
Naevia isn’t home; she might be staying at Crixus’s. Agron looks around curiously and he’s so tall that their flat looks even smaller than it is. The flat has a living room the size of a large cupboard, and Nasir’s room is adjacent to the kitchen whilst Naevia’s is next to the bathroom.
“I didn’t think they exist but there is a goddamned carpet in your bathroom,” Agron says excitedly after using the loo.
“I guess that’s not a thing in Germany?” Nasir has already started chopping the vegetables. Agron opens the first bottle of red and then they’re both cutting and chopping and it’s nice. Dinner is pretty damn good and Nasir feels smug when Agron has seconds despite a reported dislike of green peppers. And then they’re kissing whilst doing the dishes and Agron’s hands are wet and covered in foam that rustles against Nasir’s ear when Agron cups his face.
“Sorry, didn’t want to get you wet,” he says with a grin, and this cheeky, flirty Agron grows on Nasir more and more.
They start the second bottle when they settle down in the living room. Agron looks too large for the small sofa and Nasir hopes that he can keep his hands to himself for at least part of the film. On the other hand, he knows the film, and Agron is ridiculously attractive and just there. Nasir leans in to press a wet, lingering kiss against his neck during the opening credits and the noise Agron makes goes straight to his cock. Fifteen minutes in, Agron’s hands are buried in Nasir’s hair and Nasir is straddling his lap. They are both breathless when Nasir suggests moving it to his room. Agron sucks on his lower lip and palms him through his jeans in response and Nasir nearly quashes the plan then and there.
Divested of his T-shirt, Agron looks ravishing and Nasir makes disturbing mental associations with the heroes on Mills and Boon covers. They have made it to Nasir’s room and even onto his bed - on their third attempt - and now Agron is busy kissing Nasir’s chest. They are still wearing jeans, which Nasir has to work on as soon as Agron stops, fuck, licking his right nipple in a way that connects it straight to his painfully hard dick.
“Off,” he says and, clumsy with eagerness, fumbles with the buttons - two, for fuck’s sake - of Agron’s jeans. Agron smiles, probably at how monosyllabic he has become, and starts working on Nasir’s jeans instead. He pulls them down his narrow hips together with his pants. The remainder of Nasir’s coherency leaves him when Agron’s tongue licks up the length of his cock. He doesn’t hurry as he sucks him into his mouth slowly and, fuuuuck, lovingly tongues the slit. Nasir is in no doubt that Agron loves cock, and that he loves having his down Agron’s throat. He is so hard it hurts and his hands are numbly reaching for Agron’s shoulders to hold on to for dear life as Agron’s starts sucking him.
“Shit, Agron,” he manages to warn him mere seconds before he comes in hot, thick spurts inside Agron’s mouth. He looks down just as Agron swallows around him, which wrings another spurt out of his cock, and a low shuddery breath escapes him. Nasir trembles as he comes down from his orgasm and then Agron’s on top of him, kissing and nibbling his neck again, and Nasir doesn’t quite know how he manages to open Agron’s fly but he does. After a bit of shifting, Agron’s jeans are down around his knees and Nasir’s hand is wrapped around his cock. He pulls the foreskin back and rubs the head with his thumb, and Agron’s responding groan makes him shiver. Agron’s half on top of him, half on his side, allowing his hand better access, and Nasir just wants to tease more of these noises out of him and moves his hand as firmly and steadily as the awkward position allows. Agron feels big and heavy in his hand, fucking amazing, and he leans in to whisper just that into Agron’s ear. The reaction is more than he expected.
“Gott!” Agron gasps, as his whole body tenses, and Nasir feels him coming all over his hand and against his thigh.
“I’ve never had sex with anyone not speaking German before,” Agron confesses when they cleaned themselves up and lie entwined under Nasir’s duvet. He is tall enough to kind of wrap himself around Nasir, which is insanely hot and also really fucking nice. Nasir lets his fingers glide lightly over Agron’s arms and back, enjoying his warmth and the post-coital feeling of closeness.
“Hmmm,” he makes, content. “You’re my first Hun.” He gives Agron a mischievous grin and kisses the corner of his mouth, rightly assuming that he won’t mind the teasing.
“Can I stay?” Agron asks after a few minutes and Nasir pulls him closer in response. That man should try fucking leaving!
“You don’t really think I’d kick you out, do you?”
“Just checking,” Agron says and nuzzles his neck.
“So I’m your first Syrian? Granted, I’m more Roman than Syrian.”
“Yeah,” Agron manages in-between feathery kisses on his neck. It has been forever since Nasir has felt this good.
“Not much variety in that backwards town of yours?”
“Not much of anything. Got my first kiss when I did mandatory community service instead of military service, followed by my first everything else. I was nineteen.”
“Fuck,” Nasir says and presses a kiss against Agron’s biceps. “That sounds bleak.” He feels Agron shrug.
“It was all right.”
“So no potential boyfriends closer to home? I got my first blowjob when I was in high school.”
“You have a few years of experience on me then,” Agron says.
“I don’t know,” Nasir says, twisting in Agron’s arms. “Your mouth is pretty awesome.”
Agron’s smile is part flattered, part embarrassed. He doesn’t get to hear these things often, Nasir suspects, and decides to change that. Agron leans in for a kiss and it’s so tender and adoring that Nasir never wants it to end. He falls asleep in Agron’s arms.
…to be continued