“So I can just…lay here.”
“Mhmm,” Nicki hums, kissing Andrew’s cheek then his jaw. “You’re going to let me make you feel good. If you don’t like something, you tell me, but otherwise let me be in charge. You don’t have to think or move. You don’t have to do anything but lay there like a pretty princess.”
“You make me sound like a doll,” Andrew grumbles, unsure why it makes his body tingle. He’s not a doll, but he likes the idea of just being there without doing anything. The removal of that pressure, that demand, makes Andrew feel good.
“Not a doll. You’re too real, toomine. But a princess? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Somehow, that’s even better and Andrew finds his dick hardening, not as quickly or impressively as Nicki’s, but an erection just the same.
Apparently, Andrew is turned on by the idea of someone being slightly obsessive and possessive with him. Charlie would have a fucking field day if he knew. Maybe…maybe Andrew will tell him. Maybe it’s okay to explain this to Charlie, to share more with his twin than just the easy things. He would understand if Andrew explained why he shut out sex for long. He might tease Andrew something merciless if he finds out about the princess thing, but with Nicki as the prize it’s worth it.
“Your only job tonight is to look at me,” Nicki says, his accent pronounced, voice deep and commanding. “Focus on me. Moan forme.”
“Bossy,” Andrew remarks, gliding his fingers over Nicki’s tattoos. There’s dual snake tattoos that wrap around both collarbones in a way that looks almost real. Andrew traces the barbs, the skin so very soft despite its appearance otherwise. This tattoo is much like his Nicki. Rough in appearance, but soft to the touch. At least with him. Nicki is still a grumpy asshole to everyone else, and Andrew is hard pressed to deny that he likes being the only one given full Nicki personality privileges, the only one allowed to have this gentle version of his man.
“You want to be in charge?” Nicki asks.
“No, thank you,” Andrew answers, using both hands to map Nicki’s tattoos now. He knows most of them by heart, but being allowed to touch without expecting, knowing he doesn’t have to do anything, makes him long to appreciate Nicki in his own way.
“What a polite princess,” Nicki rumbles. “Now lay that gorgeous head of yours down on the pillow and open your legs.”
Doing as he’s told, Andrew spreads his legs wide to make room for Nicki to settle between them. Nicki stills when his fingers graze the waistband of Andrew’s boxers, a harsh frown marring his features.
“What?” Andrew questions.
“Fuck.”
“What?” Andrew repeats, a sinking feeling in his gut. Did he change his mind already? He seemed so certain.
“I don’t have condoms or lube. I didn’t think we needed them,” Nicki explains, sounding like someone canceled Christmas. Nicki drops his forehead to Andrew’s belly, half-mouthing at his tummy and half-whining, which is a sound Andrew has never heard him make. “Want to be inside of you.”
“You can.”
“No,” Nicki groans, kissing Andrew’s hip. “You need to be prepped and loose, princess. I won’t hurt you, ever.”
“I packed supplies, Nicki.”
“Princess.” Nicki smirks, lifting his head to stare at Andrew, “did youplanthis?”
“Um—yes?” Andrew shifts under the intensity of Nicki’s stare. “I like to plan things.”
“Don’t ever fucking change,” Nicki smirks, tumbling off the bed and racing to Andrew’s suitcase.
“In my toiletry bag,” Andrew explains before Nicki dumps his luggage out, and judging by the intensity of his movements seems like a distinct possibility. “The lilac one with the—yes, that one.”
Nicki is back on the bed and between his legs in record speed, lavishing Andrew’s neck and cheeks in kisses. “Mine.”
“Did you doubt that in the last sixty seconds?”
“No, but you did. I saw that look in your eyes.” Nicki’s blue eyes are so dark they’re almost black. He’s painfully observant, and though Andrew has a hint of unease at being so acutely perceived, there’s an intense relief too. There will never be any hiding or masking in front of Nicki. He sees through it, sees Andrew. “I’m going to tell you every chance I can.”
“Oh no, how terrible,” Andrew deadpans.
“You’re a fucking delight, princess.”
Andrew bites his bottom lip, trying and failing not to let his smile split his face in two. Sex has always been terrifying for Andrew. Confusing. Vulnerable. Difficult to mentally compartmentalize and therefore anxiety producing. Also, sometimes very squicky. With Nicki, it’s still a little scary, because Andrew’s default is anxiety in the face of newness, but it’s a little exciting too. He never imagined he’d be in bed with someone who could make him smile, someone who would wantto take him apart and put him back together. He never dreamed of having a partner who wants to own him, body and soul.
“Nicki.”
