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“Mal’ik—”
But then Mal’ik kissed him, gentle and soft, and Oliver shuddered with relief.
Oliver traced his hands up Mal’ik’s arms, one cool and metallic, the other warm and corded with muscle, to wrap his arms around Mal’ik’s neck.
Mal’ik let out a hum of pleasure and opened Oliver’s lips with his to kiss him deeper.
Oliver shivered at the taste of Mal’ik’s mouth, remembering where the tongue sliding against his now had been just moments ago.
Mal’ik broke the kiss to trail his lips to Oliver’s ear. “I’m not fucking you dry, Oliver.”
Oliver’s fingers spasmed as they dug into the meat of Mal’ik’s shoulders, tightening his grip on him before he could pull away.
“I want it,” he said firmly. He hadn’t wanted to be fucked in years; he wasn’t going to let it get away from him now.
“What else do you have?” Mal’ik asked. He petted his soft hand over Oliver’s hips and smoothed his thumb over Oliver’s hipbone.
Oliver relaxed when he realized Mal’ik wasn’t pulling away. In fact, he was nibbling at Oliver’s ear in an extremely distracting way that also seemed to indicate he was still interested. Oliver racked his brain, trying to think of anything else he had on hand that could work. It didn’t take long.
“Oil.” He pushed on Mal’ik’s shoulders, desperate to get it now that he’d thought of it. “I have oil in the bathroom.”
“I’ll get it.” Mal’ik pressed a firm hand into the center of Oliver’s chest as he sat back on his knees.
Oliver looked down his muscular body to see Mal’ik’s cock was still hard, and he almost sagged with relief. He hadn’t ruined everything. Mal’ik still wanted him. Still wanted him plenty, judging by the look in his eyes as he dragged a hand from the center of Oliver’s chest down his stomach to his own leaking length. He skipped Oliver’s cock, though, and palmed Oliver’s balls in his big hand, teasing over Oliver’s taint with the pad of his middle finger, making Oliver gasp. “I want you to stay just like this and think about what I’m going to do to you.”
Oliver’s cock jerked, and Mal’ik chuckled lowly as he stood from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Oliver found enough breath to shout after him, “Promises, promises.”
But he was too distracted by the flexing of muscle over Mal’ik’s bare ass to say more. No real-life man should be able to look that good. His body reminded Oliver of the marble statues in the gardens of his family’s estate. He suddenly wondered what it would feel like to lick at Mal’ik where Mal’ik had licked at him, what it would feel like to drag his own tongue over Mal’ik’s hole.
He heard Mal’ik open some drawers before he came back out, holding the bottle and looking at it with a little furrow between his heavy brows.
“Is this why your skin is so soft?” he asked.
Oliver felt absurdly pleased that Mal’ik found his skin soft. Why wouldn’t he? It was objectively soft because Oliver spent obscene amounts of money on things like that to make sure of it.
“Yes.” Oliver braced his foot against the bed and tilted his hips. “But I can think of some better uses for it.”
Mal’ik huffed a laugh, but his eyes burned into Oliver. “Can you?”
Oliver didn’t reply, his throat closing with anticipation as Mal’ik advanced on him. He let out a choked sound when Mal’ik dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and grabbed Oliver’s ankle. Mal’ik pulled it out from under him so that he lay flat on the bed again, his hips at the edge of the bed and his legs dangling off it.
“You smell so fucking good.” Mal’ik buried his nose back into the crease of Oliver’s hips, and Oliver pushed onto his forearms to watch. Mal’ik opened his eyes and met Oliver’s, and Oliver had a moment for his heart to leap in excitement before Mal’ik licked a long stripe up the length of Oliver’s cock and swallowed him down.
“Oh fuck, yes.” Oliver dropped his head back and let his pleasure hiss out of him. It felt so unabashedly good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such a pure pleasure. Mal’ik’s mouth was hot and wet, and his suction was just enough to keep all the threads of Oliver’s control just out of reach. “Mal’ik, fuck, that feels good.”
Then the slick pad of an oiled finger pressed against Oliver’s pucker, and he stiffened. Mal’ik didn’t push in, though, just rubbed and teased until Oliver’s nerve endings were on fire and he was gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.
“Get on with it,” he ordered, opening his eyes again to glare down at Mal’ik.
Mal’ik pulled his mouth off him with a pop and a chuckle. “Fussy.”
And then he pushed his finger into Oliver, up to the knuckle. Oliver arched off the bed and just managed to keep his pained cry locked behind his teeth. Oh, it had been a long time; it had been a very long time, and Oliver had never been very good at this. What the hell had he been thinking, asking a klah’eel to fuck him as though he could possibly take anything the size of Mal’ik’s cock? Oh hell, he was an idiot.
“You’re okay, Oliver.” Mal’ik’s deep rumbling voice vibrated through him, and he managed to crack his eyes back open. “You’re okay. Relax for me, Oliver. Relax.”
Mal’ik kept his finger buried inside him, but he stroked his metal hand over Oliver’s stomach and side. He dipped his head and kissed the inside of Oliver’s knee as he petted him and murmured to him.
“You’re okay. Relax.”
