Sidney's hands go to Erath's shirt. He undoes the buttons with fingers that are steadier now, focused on the task, the physical action of undressing someone grounding him the way physical action always does. He pushes the shirt off Erath's shoulders and Erath shrugs it free. Then Sidney's hands are on his chest, palms flat, fingers spread, and the heat of them against Erath's skin is startling in its intensity. His hands slide down to Erath's waistband and tug, and Erath lifts his hips and lets Sidney strip him.
They're both bare now. Sidney in his lap, skin to skin, the heat between them immediate and consuming. Sidney's cock is hard against Erath's stomach and Erath can feel his own pressed against Sidney's thigh, thick and heavy and aching. Sidney's eyes drop between them and his lips part and his breath comes out shallow.
Erath puts his hand on Sidney's hip. "Lie down for me."
Sidney's eyes come back to his. There's a flash of something, the instinct to resist, to maintain the higher ground, and then it passes. He trusts him. He said he would and he's going to, and Erath watches him make the choice in real time, watches him climb off Erath's lap and lie back on the bed, his blond hair fanning out on the pillow and his body tense and beautiful and waiting.
Erath doesn't hover over him. He doesn't cage him with his body, doesn't put his weight on top of him, doesn't do any ofthe things that would make Sidney feel pinned. He lies beside him instead, propped on one elbow, and puts his free hand on Sidney's stomach. Just resting. Feeling the muscles jump under his palm.
"Tell me to stop," Erath says, "and I stop. No questions."
"I know." Sidney's voice is rough. His hand comes up and finds the back of Erath's neck and pulls him down. "I know. Come here."
Erath goes. He kisses Sidney's mouth, then his jaw, then the tendon of his neck where his pulse is hammering. He works his way down with his lips and his teeth and his tongue, unhurried, mapping the terrain of Sidney's body with a thoroughness that has Sidney's breathing going ragged before Erath has made it past his collarbones. He mouths at Sidney's chest, tongue tracing the line of muscle, and when his lips close over one nipple and suck, Sidney arches off the bed and swears.
Erath's hand slides down Sidney's stomach. Lower. He bypasses Sidney's cock, which is hard and leaking against his hip, and trails his fingers along the crease of his thigh. Sidney's legs part in invitation.
He lifts his hand. Sidney watches, his eyes heavy-lidded, as Erath rubs his fingers together and the faintest shimmer of magic moves between them, slick and warm and glistening. It's barely visible, just a ripple in the air, and then his fingers are wet with it, and Sidney’s breath is already ragged.
Erath shifts down the bed. He presses a kiss to Sidney's hip, the sharp jut of bone, and then to the inside of his thigh, where the skin is thin and warm and Sidney exhales. He settles between Sidney's legs, one hand on his thigh, keeping him open, and brings his slicked fingers to where Sidney is tight and hot and waiting.
He presses one finger against him. Not in. Just against, circling, letting Sidney's body get used to the pressure. Sidney'sthigh tenses under his hand and his breathing goes shallow and quick and Erath waits. He waits until Sidney's body softens, until the tension eases by a fraction, and then he presses in.
Sidney gasps. His hand fists in the sheet beside his hip and his head presses back into the pillow and Erath watches his face, reads every microexpression, cataloguing comfort and discomfort and the shifting line between them. He works his finger in slowly, giving Sidney time to adjust, and when he's fully inside he curls it and Sidney's hips jerk and a sound punches out of him that's half moan, half surprise.
"There?" Erath asks, though he knows. He knows exactly where.
"Fuck," Sidney breathes. "Yes, there."
Erath works him open. One finger becomes two, scissoring gently, stretching him, and Sidney's body opens for him in increments. His breathing is loud in the quiet room, harsh and uneven, and his cock is hard and flushed against his stomach, dripping a steady line of precome that pools in the hollow below his navel. Erath watches it. Watches him. He's stunning like this, undone, the practiced composure stripped away layer by layer until what's left is just want. Just need. Just Sidney, trusting him.
He lowers his mouth. He presses his tongue flat against Sidney's stretched hole beside his fingers and Sidney makes a sound that breaks the air in half.
"Erath—"
He licks into him, his tongue working alongside his fingers, wet and deliberate and thorough. Sidney's hand flies from the sheet to Erath's hair and grips, hard enough to sting, and his hips buck up off the bed. Erath's free hand presses against his hip, steadying him, not holding him down, just giving him something to push against, and Sidney pushes. His body is rocking now, moving with Erath's mouth and his fingers,chasing the sensation with a growing desperation that makes his movements frantic and graceless. His cock is leaking steadily, a continuous thread of precome that glistens on his stomach, and every sound coming out of him is raw and unfiltered and Erath wants to hear every single one.
He adds a third finger and curls them and presses his tongue against him at the same time and Sidney nearly comes off the bed. His back arches, his thighs clamp around Erath's head, and the sound he makes is wrecked, a sob that's been scraped out of the deepest part of him, and his hips rock up against Erath's mouth in frantic, stuttering movements that have lost all coordination and become pure instinct.
Erath pulls back. He presses a kiss to the inside of Sidney's thigh, wet and open-mouthed, and withdraws his fingers slowly. Sidney whines at the loss, actually whines, and the sound of it goes through Erath like electricity.
"Turn over," Erath says. His voice is rougher than he means it to be. "On your knees."
Sidney's eyes open. They're glazed, unfocused, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. He blinks at Erath, processing, and then he moves. He rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, his head hanging between his arms, his back a long pale line that dips at the base of his spine. He's shaking. Fine, constant tremors in his thighs and his arms and the muscles of his back.
Erath kneels behind him. He runs his hand down Sidney's spine, from the nape of his neck to the base, feeling the knobs of vertebrae under his palm and the way Sidney's body responds to the touch, arching into it, seeking it. He grips Sidney's hips firmer than he has before, because Sidney said he wanted to feel it, and Erath is more than happy to oblige. He positions himself, the dripping head of his cock pressing against Sidney where he's wet and open and ready.
Erath pushes in. Slow. Controlled. Inch by inch, the way he opened him with his fingers, giving Sidney's body time to take him. Sidney's breath leaves him in a long, shuddering exhale and his fingers twist in the sheets and his back dips lower, his shoulders dropping, his ass pressing back against Erath as if trying to take him faster. Erath holds his hips and sets the pace and doesn't let him rush.
When he's fully inside, he stops. He can feel Sidney around him, tight and hot and pulsing, and the sensation is immense. He breathes through it. Sidney breathes through it. They're both still, connected, the room silent except for the sound of two people trying to hold themselves together.
Then Erath pulls back and thrusts in and Sidney gasps.
He doesn't hold him down. His hands stay on Sidney's hips. He pulls Sidney back onto his cock as he drives forward and the impact of it, the depth and the angle and the force, wrenches a sound out of Sidney that's barely human. Erath does it again. Again. He finds a pace that has Sidney gasping on every stroke, his face dropping to the mattress, his hands fisted in the sheets, his body rocking forward with each thrust and then pressing back for more.
"You're still so tight," Erath tells him, and his voice is low, strained, barely holding. His fingers dig into Sidney's hips. "You feel—Sidney, the way you're clutching my cock—"
Sidney moans into the mattress. His back arches deeper, changing the angle, and when Erath thrusts into him again they both feel the difference. Erath adjusts, tilting his hips, and the next stroke hits something that makes Sidney's entire body jolt and his moan pitch up into something desperate and breathless.
