Change of Angles

"I bought it because you said you could take it," said Fincher, although he sounded more amused than annoyed, which was frankly worse.

"I can take it," hissed Fasal. "Just -- just be a bit patient."

"I've been patient for half an hour, babe."

"It hasn't been half an hour."

"No, it's been twenty-two minutes."

"You're surprised I can't get your dick in me when you're literally looking at the clock?"

Fincher started laughing, which made the head of the strap-on judder against Fasal's hole, and he hissed at how it felt, good but with the slightest edge of soreness, because he maybe he been overambitious picking it out. It wasn't that it was long -- it was probably a little shorter than a lot of the other straps in the drawer -- but it was thick, and much as he ached to have it stuffed inside him, his cunt wasn't exactly being accommodating right now.

"Let's swap places," murmured Fincher against his mouth, stroking Fasal's jaw as he pulled him in for a kiss, his lips pressing against Fasal's before sliding down, over his chin, his neck.

"I like being on top," said Fasal churlishly, complaining mostly because he'd wanted to swap places for at least sixteen minutes out of those twenty-two minutes, and had neglected to suggest it out of stubbornness.

"Well, I like stuffing your cunt full of silicon, and those two goals appear to be at odds," said Fincher dryly, just condescending enough that it made Fasal's cock jump, "and your thighs must fucking ache by now."

"At least I have thighs," said Fasal, because they did.

Fincher's hands loosely gripped Fasal's hips, wider than Fincher's were, and his slim fingers pressed into the flesh there, sinking into it as he pushed Fasal back on the bed. Fincher was grinning at him, a little curving smirk as he leaned down, beginning to mouth over the hairy curve of Fasal's belly, nipping at it. Fasal let out a sharp noise as he grazed with his teeth over a ticklish spot, making Fasal's chest and his belly jump and wobble at the same time his cock did, and Fincher laughed.

It was a dirty laugh, smug and possessive and smoky with arousal, and just hearing it made Fasal slicker, wetter.

"You going to lick my stomach all day or are you going to fuck me?" demanded Fasal.

"I bet I could make you come just by worshiping this belly of yours," said Fincher. "Bet it'd take me a while, too -- bet it'd take me hours, and by the time you came you'd barely be able to move, so wet we were both swimming with it, thighs quivering, all light-headed. I could do whatever I liked to you, then, fuck you with a baseball bat if it suited me -- you'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?"

Fasal gulped audibly, at the same time his cock jumped and his cunt clenched, slick dribbling over the fingers Fincher had slid between his legs, and Fincher grinned at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah," he said amusedly. "Exactly. But as much as it wounds me," Fincher pressed a kiss just above Fasal's navel which turned into a raspberry and made him laugh and wriggle at once, "I need this belly under you."

He kissed the inside of one of Fasal's knees before letting him tip onto his knees and elbows, arse in the air, and Fincher leaned in to lick a stripe over his cunt, burying his face in it and making Fasal hiss, hands fisting in the sheets.

"Better angle to spank you from here," said Fincher, coming up behind him and lining the strap-on up against his cunt again: he grazed his teeth over and kissed up either side of Fasal's spine, sucking marks into his lower back, and Fasal couldn't help but whine. "I like your face, you know, but I love this arse."

"Gonna fuck me or not?" Fasal demanded, burying his face in the sheets.

"What happened to patience? Be patient to all that befalls you -- wasn't somebody telling me that the other day?"

"Yeah, when my dad says shit like that to you over breakfast, I don't think he's imagining you bringing it up when we have sex," mumbled Fasal.

"You never know," said Fincher, and Fasal laughed and reached back to him to smack him in the thigh. Fincher took advantage of the fact that he was laughing, and when the head of the strap popped inside him, it went so easily that Fasal almost couldn't believe it.

Fincher eased forward, and Fasal howled, all but tearing at the sheets as the cock slid further into him, stretched him wider. It didn't hurt, at the most just ached a little, but the stretch was everything he'd wanted, everything that hade made his mouth water as soon as he'd seen the stupid thing, and Fincher laughed, laying more kisses over Fasal's back, between his shoulders, to the back of his neck.

"Good?" he asked.

"Mmm," hummed Fasal. "Yeah, yeah, fuck -- "

He reached up between his legs, pressing his fingers against his cock as he clenched down around the one inside him, and he groaned into the crease of his elbow as Fincher slowly rocked his hips into him, his movements slow and gentle at first but gaining speed.

"You look that much at the packaging on this thing?" asked Fincher.

"The packaging?" Fasal asked blearily, not really able to concentrate as he focused on the tension gathering inside him, trying to ignore the ache in his fingers as he pulled on his cock. "What, that clamshell stuff?"

"Not what I meant," said Fincher. "More the features."

Fasal frowned, but couldn't reply immediately, because Fincher changed his angle slightly to fuck downward, and the dull pressure rubbing against his g-spot made Fasal whine. "What like, like, like easy-clean?"

"No," said Fincher, and Fasal heard a click.

He screamed when the toy started vibrating.

He jumped on the bed, but Fincher grabbed his hips and held him tight, groaning into his back, and Fasal whined, hissed, "Too much, too much, fuck -- "

His orgasm hit him like fireworks, all of them exploding behind his eyes, and judging by the sounds he was making against the back of Fasal's neck, Fincher was coming too, grabbing at Fasal's belly, his sides, as his hips thrust into him staccato and unsteady.

It was impossibly, painfully good, made hot waves run through Fasal's whole body, and as he kept jumping, kept going to wriggle through, Fincher kept hold of him, until Fasal was stuck on that painful, savage knife-edge, nearly ready to come again.

"I can't, I can't -- "

"Yeah, you can," said Fincher, kissing the back of his shoulder, "do it again for me, sweetheart, let me hear it, come on the big cock I bought just for you -- "

It took a while.

By the time Fasal came again, he was burning with it, throbbing all over with overstimulation and a blissful agony-ecstasy, and when Fincher finally turned the toy off and pulled out, Fasal flopped onto his belly on the bed.

"How are we feeling?" called Fincher from the bathroom as he finished pissing and started washing up the strap.

"Like you fucked my brains out," mumbled Fasal.

"That's okay, I don't use them much," said Fincher, and Fasal laughed weakly.

"Next time, I'll fuck you with it."

"You're joking, right? I can't take this, babe, I'm not built like you are. If you tried to fuck me with this it'd come out of my throat."

"It fucking will, and that's why I'll do it," Fasal threatened, and Fincher fell on top of him, lying naked on Fasal's back like a skinny blanket.

"My big strong man," said Fincher, kissing the back of his neck, "going to split me apart with his big dick."

"I feel like I'm detecting irony in your tone," said Fasal, "and I don't care for it."

Fincher chuckled, kissing him again. "Run a bath for us, big man?"

"Yeah," sighed Fasal, and Fincher patted his hip affectionately as he got up to run it.

FIN.