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“You’re doing this on purpose,” Avery moans, writhing even though Sascha hasn’t touched him yet.

“Yep, I am.”

“Why?” he demands.

“Because you haven’t asked for it.”

A desperate keen tears its way up Avery’s throat. “Sascha Madison, if you don’t get your ass in gear and fuckingfuck mealready?—!”

“Wow, using my last name? That’s bold for someone so desperate to get his cock sucked.”

Demonstrating, Sascha flicks his tongue over the tip of Avery’s engorged cock, and the fact that he remembered what Avery prefers to call it almost feels better than the brief contact itself. Years of needles, hormone therapy, and surgery recovery never took away Avery’s fear of the small thing between his legs never being seen as masculine enough. It fills Avery’s chest with giddiness, enhanced when Sascha repeats the gesture. Then he stops. Avery tries to wait himout, hands tightening on the edge of the counter to not-quite-hide how they shake.

“If you want to do it right,” Sascha says, pausing to kiss all the way around his mons, taking care to avoid the most sensitive parts of Avery’s cunt. He continues: “You’ll have to use my middle name, too.”

Avery barely manages to squeak out, “What’s your middle name, Sascha?”

Sascha bites so high up on Avery’s thigh it makes him jump, delicious pain radiating into his cunt, already pulsing with anticipation to the point of agony by itself. Then he gently brushes back the dark hair on his mons, spreading Avery open and leaving him vulnerable to every puff of his breath. “It’s Nikolai. Now beg me.”

Though he’s breathing too fast, squirming wildly on the counter, Avery inhales deeply and raises his voice as loud as he can: “Sascha Nikolai Madison,pleasefuck me!” The words come out on a moan as Saschafinallyleans in, mouth opening wide so he can fit his lips around all that sensitive skin, tongue stroking right up Avery’s center. When the lick turns into blissful suction, Avery twists his hands in Sascha’s hair and feels his soul leave his body.

After so long building his anticipation, Sascha stops teasing. He holds Avery’s knees up and apart, leaving Avery folded in a useless heap on the counter, head pressed against the mirror. Oral has never felt this good before—of this, he’s certain. Maybe because of the heat, the relief, or maybe because it’sSaschawho’s taking him apart. There’s nothing casual about this, and that ramps Avery up high, higher, such that he keens when Sascha works a gentle finger inside him.

“More, please,” Avery pleads, clenching Sascha’s hair tighter with one hand while the other goes to brace himself so he doesn’t slump off the counter. “Please, Sascha, I need?—”

Sascha shushes him, adding another finger as he bobs his head on Avery’s cock, sucking expertly.

“Have you done this before?” Avery asks, more than halfway delirious. “Eaten someone out.”

Laughing, Sascha adds a third finger, crooking them up to seek out Avery’s internal P-spot. He laughs harder when he finds it, rubbing so firmly Avery’s whole body arches. Not letting up, he answers, “Once. Another trans guy, at a party. He wasn’t as hot as you.” He says the last bit with his mouth already around the head of Avery’s cock, and kills any response Avery might have had by closing his lips around it. When he breaks away to breathe, Sascha murmurs, “You’re so fucking sexy, Avery.” Then he withdraws his dripping fingers from Avery’s cunt and dives in, spearing his tongue inside to curl against his walls like the cat he is.

It feels amazing, but not what his body wants. Sudden panic swells in Avery’s throat, bringing him to gasp out, “Wait!”

Sascha pulls away immediately, eyes wide with concern.

“It’s— No, hush.” Avery pets his hair clumsily, mumbling, “I need more.”

Sascha’s breath catches, but the moment is ruined when, on impulse, Avery moves to jump off the counter. Sascha scrabbles to catch him before he lands, then eases him down.

The moment Avery’s feet touch the floor, he clasps Sascha’s face and kisses him hard, without finesse. “I need you to fuck me. Can you do that?”

In response, Sascha drops to catch the back of Avery’s thighs, lifting him into his arms without separating their mouths. He carries Avery to the freshly made bed, gasping when Avery squirms against his hard cock, so eager he can barely stomach the seconds separating them.

“Fast or slow?” Sascha asks, lowering Avery tenderly to the mattress. He wastes no time stripping his boxers.

Avery groans, then grabs the back of his knees so he can open as wide as possible under Sascha’s hungry stare.

Sascha laughs, the sound hitching when he positionshimself on the bed. “We’ll feel it out then.” He drives into Avery in one sharp jab of his hips, and Avery cries out like he’s being murdered, but like, in a good way.

“Acceptable?” Sascha checks in, lip quirking. At Avery’s frantic nod, Sascha takes up a merciless pace, leaving Avery hanging on for dear life, his blunt nails digging into Sascha’s shoulders.

Time melts, seconds sticking to the minutes. Avery can’t put a coherent thought together, not even when his back starts to ache from holding his knees so high.

The moment Avery hiccups in discomfort, Sascha halts.

“Is this still okay?”

Something inflates under Avery’s ribs, a fragile bubble of emotion responding to the care in Sascha’s voice. He chokes in complaint when Sascha pulls out, but it’s just as well because he ends up shaking his head.