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"Do you ever think you’d like to be on top for once?" He asks, in the dark of the room, his voice hushed.
"I have been. It was fun. You mean would I enjoy fucking you?"
"Yeah, I mean that, wisearse."
The Spy strokes his chest, pondering. “Maybe… I mean, it’s not as though it would be unsatisfying for me. But… it would be for you, I think.”
"I’d need more to get off, but that— that’s not the point. The way you talked about it, it’s more than just getting off. I wouldn’t mind you fucking me up the arse, if I could feel whatever it is you do— the non-prostate half of it, at any rate— when I’m fucking you. You can always just suck me off after, getting there’s not the, the point of it… Curiosity, maybe, but… y’always seem so satisfied, that’s all. Not just sex-satisfied, you seem…"
He chuckles warmly, slinging one leg over the Sniper’s and cuddling up to him. “Oh, absolutely, mon beau. There is absolutely nothing that puts me at ease the way giving everything up to you does… sometimes it is the only way I can stop worrying. Worry is a built-in thing for me, I think, but when you have all of my trust and all of my attention, it is hard to give it any weight. I don’t know that your soul craves all of the same things that mine does, or in the same ways, but we could experiment with it.”
"I just… I don’t think it’ll be for me, not as far as getting off goes— not really any way for it to be, the way it is for you. But I get more than just that out of everything else we do, you know?"
"I know." He smiles, leaning up to kiss the Sniper’s cheek.
In the morning, after breakfast and a rather lazy bath, he leads the Sniper back to their bed— and it is still a novelty to have a bed that has only ever been theirs, to have a whole house in which to walk around naked, an activity that the Sniper has put on hold until warmer weather takes them, but one he has rather vocally looked forward to.
"We start small. And if this is uncomfortable to you, then this is where the experiment ends." The Spy says, matter-of-fact. Beneath a tent of quilts and comforters, though, his hands are warm, and the Sniper finds himself melting under them. The idea that anything could possibly be uncomfortable is a foreign one, during a massage from the Spy.
The Spy’s voice is less matter-of-fact, and more seductively warm, as he whispers in a mix of languages, touch straying more frequently towards the Sniper’s hole, though still not invasive. After a little kissing and a little neck-nibbling, he disappears beneath the covers, and during the blowjob that follows, well-oiled fingers beg the very slightest entrance. Mostly, the fingering remains external, teasing sensitive skin lightly.
"Ca va?" The Spy asks, licking at his lips and peering out of the cavern of blankets with a mix of smugness and concern.
“‘S fine.” The Sniper chuckles, urging him up. “Not uncomfortable yet.”
"Good."
"That mean you’re gonna…?"
"Not yet. But… I would not mind a hand with this…" He grins, eyes flickering down.
"Oh, I’ll give you a hand…" The Sniper growls, rolling him onto his back. "Give you a couple hands, a mouth, and anything else you want."
Throughout the course of the week, the Spy goes by degrees, just with his fingers. Past the external ticklishness, it does little for the Sniper sexually, but there’s nothing like the hurt he’d experienced his first time, or even like the odd discomfort he always experienced having a finger or two worked up into the vagina he was happy to no longer have. It just was. The thing that made it something enjoyable was that it was the Spy, and that being tangled up together was something he couldn’t imagine not enjoying, with or without any kind of sex. There’s the smell of him, of tobacco and lavender fougere and sweat, and something sweet or silly or dirty whispered in his ear, always at the right time to snap him out of any nervousness… there’s the Spy, and that’s enough.
When the Spy asks ‘tonight?’, he’s only too ready to agree. It’s like the payoff to the longest bout of foreplay he’s ever experienced, to have an end point for this experiment.
"How will you be most comfortable?" The Spy asks. He’s been fingered in several positions, in the course of preparing himself for the act, and some were definitely more comfortable than others. He suspects some of the positions the Spy likes, he likes because he gets that prostate stimulation, and no amount of searching really produced a similar effect for him.
"I’d rather be on my back." He finally answers, cupping the Spy’s cheek briefly. On his front had actually felt more comfortable, especially taking into consideration how he’d have to adjust his legs to have the Spy’s whole body between them, but then, he was doing this for the connection.
The Spy kisses him warmly before grabbing a towel and an extra pillow, and the jar of Vaseline.
The Spy goes as slow as he can, throughout all of it, and there is a certain amount of mental and emotional satisfaction when he has the Spy completely inside him, when he has the Spy’s breath hot against his skin, and can feel the trembling of muscles under his hands.
"Fuck, you are tight… I don’t— I don’t normally, but… Damn, you make me forget why." He lifts his head, grinning at the Sniper. There is something unsteady in it, charmingly lopsided, and the Sniper’s stomach twists.
"Ought… ought to make you swear in English more often." He chuckles breathlessly.
The Spy kisses him, rocking his hips, keeping every movement as small as he can while they both adjust. The Sniper is just slightly hard, from the foreplay and the sound of the Spy’s voice, and the nearness of him.
He’s not sure he finds the same sense of something in it, that the Spy does… but even in the most awkward moments of the act, he doesn’t want to stop it. He thinks he might have, if the Spy had taken him up on the offer when he had first made it, if they hadn’t had a year and a half together to learn each other in bed and out of it. Once the Spy’s hand moves to stroke his cock, it’s easier to enjoy it all, to let it become lovemaking instead of merely an experiment.
He’s a little dizzy by the end, though it seems a far cry from the kind of ‘overwhelming’ that the Spy seeks from the act, but there’s such a reverence in the way the Spy cleans him up that he’s glad they did this once.
He grunts and lets the Spy pepper him with kisses, unable to push him away even though he feels a little too overheated to start cuddling just yet. They are few and far enough between to stand, for the first few moments, and every time he cracks an eye open, the Spy is looking at him with a different adoration than the one he is used to… It’s difficult for him to quantify, to put words to in his own mind, but the difference is there. Less blind worship, more… care. The reversal of positions, he decides— normally after a good fuck, the Spy is floating in a place where all his own worries have been abandoned, and this time, he is burdened in the afterglow with the idea of taking the Sniper’s away, and with the question of whether the experiment was a success or a failure.
"C’mere." He beckons the Spy back into his arms. "Good for you?"
The Spy laughs, and the Sniper can hear disbelief in it. “Good for me? Yes. Of course it was. I just wiped the proof of how good it was for me from your ass, you need to ask me? But… I mean— For you?”
"Might be a year or ten before I want to do it again, but yeah. I… You took care of me. I can see why you like it."
"A year or ten of letting you fuck me all the time? Cher, I can live with that." He laughs again, relieved this time, and the Sniper kisses his forehead. The Spy pulls the covers tighter around them, as the cold air seeping in finally registers. "I can take care of you without being in your ass, you know— you can always have that part."
"Yeah. Reckon so. Still, it was all right. I, er, appreciate the hand. And… and everything. Helped me see a little bit of why you like it— and why maybe sometimes you need it. It’s never been just sex, has it?"
"With you? Never."
He nods, secure with the knowledge. It never has been for either of them, and now he thinks he can better find that even without putting himself outside his usual comfort zone.