Vale's tongue traces August's lower lip. August opens for him with a sound that's barely a breath, and the kiss deepens, and the steam curls around them, and the burn on August's wrist throbs gently beneath the layer of healing warmth that Vale's mouth left behind.
August's fingers move to Vale's shirt. Start working the buttons with hands that are steadier than they have any right to be, given the circumstances.
"We have an early morning," August murmurs against Vale's mouth, because someone should probably mention it.
"We do," Vale agrees, and does absolutely nothing to stop what's happening.
"The Violet Corridor. Voss. The fate of the city."
"All very important."
"We should probably sleep at some point."
"Probably." Vale's mouth finds his throat, the spot below his ear, the one that makes August's vision blur, and August's head falls back against the fogged mirror, and his fingers give up on the buttons and just pull, and the last coherent thing he manages is a breath that sounds like Vale's name.
August's hands drop to Vale's belt. Vale's mouth is still on his neck, teeth grazing the bruise he's been worrying all evening, and August fumbles the buckle open, yanks the zipper down. His fingers wrap around Vale, hot, thick, already leaking at the tip, and August's breath leaves him in a long, broken moan the moment he feels the weight of him.
"God," he whispers, voice wrecked. "Fuck, Vale."
Vale's cock twitches in his grip, heavy and flushed dark, the head slick and shining. August strokes him once, slow and reverent, thumb smearing the bead of precome over the slit, and Vale lets out a low, guttural sound that vibrates against August's throat.
"Keep that up," Vale murmurs, "and I'm not going to last long enough to get inside you."
August laughs, shaky and breathless, and tightens his grip just enough to make Vale's hips jerk forward. But Vale doesn't let him keep control. He hooks one hand under August's knee, lifts his leg higher, spreading him open on the edge of the counter, and then his other hand is between August's thighs, fingers slick with the lube he'd grabbed from the cabinet.
He presses one finger in first. Slow, careful, watching August's face the whole time. August's head tips back, mouth falling open on a soft, helpless sound as the stretch burns sweet and perfect.Vale works him open methodically, adding a second finger when August starts to rock down onto his hand, chasing the pressure.
"More," August gasps, thighs trembling. "Please, Vale—"
Vale curls his fingers, finds that spot, and August's whole body arches. A loud, wanton moan tears out of him, echoing off the tiles. His cock jerks against his stomach, leaking steadily now, smearing wetness across his skin.
"That's it," Vale says, voice rough. "Let me hear you."
He adds a third finger, scissoring gently, stretching August wide. August is writhing now, hips rolling in helpless little circles, trying to take more, trying to get Vale deeper. His hands scrabble at Vale's shoulders, nails digging in, leaving red crescents through the fabric.
"Vale, I'm ready, please—"
Vale pulls his fingers out slowly. Deliberately. August whines at the loss, clenching around nothing, and the sound makes Vale's jaw tighten visibly.
He grips August's hips with both hands and yanks him forward until his ass is right at the edge of the counter. August's legs wrap around Vale's waist instinctively, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him in.
Vale notches himself at August's entrance and pushes in with one long, steady thrust.
August's head snaps back. A broken cry rips from his throat as Vale fills him in one smooth glide. The stretch is overwhelming, perfect, too much and exactly enough. Vale's cock splits him open, thick and unrelenting, pressing against every sensitive place inside him until August can't breathe, can't think, can only feel.
Vale stills for a heartbeat. Buried to the hilt, letting August adjust. August's chest heaves, eyes glassy, mouth slack and wet.
"You good?" Vale asks, voice strained, forehead pressed to August's.
August nods frantically, fingers twisting in Vale's hair. "Move. Please. Fuck me."
Vale pulls out halfway and slams back in. Hard, deep, setting a rhythm that makes the counter creak beneath them. August's moans turn loud and shameless, every thrust punching a new sound out of him that bounces off tile and glass. His legs tighten around Vale's waist, heels digging in, urging him faster, deeper.
Vale fucks him with the same precision he brings to everything, long strokes that drag against August's prostate with every pass. August's cock bounces against his stomach, untouched and leaking, leaving shiny streaks across his skin.
"Look at you," Vale growls against his mouth. "Taking me so well."
August sobs out a laugh, half-hysterical with pleasure. "Harder."
