Page 38 of Love Language

He caught Greg’s eye and held the candle threateningly over his pounding erection. He wasn’t quite asking a question so much as giving Greg an opportunity to say no.

Greg drew in quick, thready breaths. And then he closed his eyes, giving himself over to the anticipated sensation.

Marco tilted the candle holder. The smallest drop fell, sliding down the side of his shaft. Greg tried to arch up but couldn’t move with Marco’s weight on his legs. He twisted to the side, shaking and shuddering in a rhythm that suggested he was only moments away from coming.

Marco was on the edge himself, watching Greg submit so fully to his desires.

He poured out a longer flow, a steady white line down the underside of Greg’s dick and along his tightened testicles.

Greg threw his arms out to the side and nearly bucked Marco off. His mouth opened in a roar and his arms thrashed. He was clearly at his limit, and Marco wanted to push him over.

Quickly setting down the candle, he stroked his cock once, and then again, and then Greg was pouring over him, thrusting recklessly into his hands.

Marco leaned over him, heedless of the wax. He needed to be close right now, to let Greg feel his weight.

Greg’s arms wrapped around him, his gasping breaths hot on Marco’s shoulder.

He turned his head, begging for a kiss, and Marco was more than happy to give it to him. He swooped into his ready mouth, licking and nibbling while Greg lazily followed his lead.

Marco cupped Greg’s softening erection, enjoying the slightly sticky softness in his hand. Hard-ons were sexy, but he always felt like there was something undeniably sweet about holding a man while he was soft.

It was intimate, somehow, in a way that surpassed sex.

Greg looked like he had melted into the mattress, his limbs completely relaxed.

Reluctantly, Marco sat up a bit so that he could start to remove the wax. He intermingled his work with soft touches, not hurrying and trying to avoid using the ice cube when he could. This was a time for closeness and comfort.

Greg watched him with half-lidded eyes, an easy smile on his face.

Marco could so easily fall in love with this sweet, broken boy, who sometimes seemed to be healing before his eyes.

When he’d removed as much of the wax as he could, he gave Greg’s hand a meaningful tug.

You need a shower, sweetheart. You can’t sleep with all this wax on you.

Greg shook his head, which drew a smile to Marco’s lips. He liked how Greg was becoming more relaxed around him, not standing on protocol.

Marco lifted himself off Greg’s slack body and stood beside the bed. Come on, up you get. I’ll help you.

Greg shook his head again in a dramatic show of exhaustion. But he was already slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Marco guided him into the bathroom and turned on the shower while Greg pressed into his side.

He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this cuddly side of Greg.

It’s warm now, he said after a minute, guiding Greg toward the tub.

Greg stepped in but slid his hand down Marco’s arm as he did to catch at his hand. Shower with me.

Marco sighed. He was, more or less, alright with his body. He liked his flat chest and mostly ignored his surgical scars, which at this point were barely visible. He enjoyed the hair that he could now grow and the lean muscles that showed when he flexed. He liked how Greg looked at him and didn’t think there were any complaints so far.

It was his lower anatomy that made him hesitate. He felt good about his options for sex. He had packers that he could use to please a partner, and his favorite one had a little nub on the back of the inserted rod that would stimulate his biological cock while he was getting off.

And when he was alone, he was actually fairly pleased with his body. He’d been born with a body that wasn’t right for him, but with enough testosterone and patience and a quick surgery, he’d grown a cock that, at least in his opinion, looked pretty good. It was small, of course, but he liked knowing that it had been in his body, just waiting all this time.

He liked touching himself, liked feeling the difference in his flesh between his length and his tip. He didn’t even try to imagine that it was bigger or different as he stroked himself with two fingers and his thumb.

What he struggled with was sharing it with somebody else, especially in these in-between times with casual physical intimacy. Times when a cis person would have just stripped and stepped into the shower. Would Greg be disappointed? Curious? Awkward?