Archive of Our Own

Nigel knows, objectively, that he shouldn't judge people by their looks. Unfortunately, in his line of work, it's a skill you either pick up or get fucked over by when you least expect it.

Most of his closest friends—the ones he'd trust with his drop points if not his life—would stick out of high society like sore, tattooed, inebriated thumbs. It's the clean-cut motherfuckers in tailored suits and Italian leather shoes he has to watch out for, the ones who get handsy with the girls and bring the hard stuff into his club because they think they've earned the right.

Nigel doesn't make the same kinds of judgments as people who go to bed before midnight and think a history of armed robbery is enough to write off a potential hire (it requires dedication, balls and resourcefulness to pull off without casualties or arrests; a great quality in a bouncer). His senses have been honed to the life he's chosen.

For instance, just last month he'd been interviewing a new bartender. The guy had seemed alright, a friend of a runner who never gave him grief, until he showed up. Sure, he had on clean jeans and a nice enough jacket, but it took Nigel about 8 seconds to clock the crooked, swollen knuckles and twitchy eyes of someone with a dangerously short temper. He'd felt pretty validated when he told the guy it wasn't gonna work out; the kid went off cursing a blue streak about Nigel's mother and took a swing at him right there in the office.

So yeah, it's probably rude, but it's saved his ass enough times that he's stopped trying to curb the habit. The thing about being judgmental is that it's pretty fucking useful when you're usually right.

The downside is that every once in awhile, you're dead fucking wrong.

Not that he would call this a downside, exactly.

Adam Raki had been full of surprises from minute one. Nigel had nearly killed his angel taking a corner with too much rage and not enough caffeine in his system, hitting the brakes so hard the airbag popped him in the jaw. After he'd wrestled it into submission, he'd flung open the driver's side door, ready to give the idiot who'd jumped in front of him a piece of his mind—screw the fact that Adam absolutely had the right of way. Who the fuck was this skinny, stuck-up nerd throwing his already shit day into chaos?

He'd stopped in his tracks, full-blown cartoon skidded-to-a-halt when he got a proper look at the knockout staring wide-eyed and terrified at Nigel's approach. He was holding a cardboard box and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Poor kid looked one strong breeze away from crumbling apart.

Nigel's rage had deflated faster than the airbag. Gawking at Adam, he'd forgotten why he was angry in the first place, since he was clearly in the wrong. His bluster had spilled over into apologies as he took in the delicately cropped curls and startling blue eyes filled with alarm. He was the loveliest, strangest creature Nigel had ever seen.

As he'd explained his situation and begged forgiveness from the beautiful stranger, Nigel had felt distinctly like he was watching someone else be a total fucking dork over a lanky kid in a blazer, but he couldn't stop. Adam watched him with the pinched expression of a middle-schooler fighting off a stomach flu while standing trial. He fidgeted, eyes darting around the sidewalk and the vehicle that had nearly made him a statistic.

When Nigel had finished his speech, Adam had informed him of each and every law in New York State that protected the rights of pedestrians without making eye contact once.

Then he had asked if Nigel wanted to come back to his apartment because he'd had a very bad day, been fired in fact, and while he did not want to talk about the accident or getting fired, Nigel was very handsome and even though he smelled of cigarettes and sweat and was an unsafe driver, did he want to have sex?

He didn't have to ask Nigel twice.

Or, well, he did, because Nigel's brain shut down.

"Nigel," Adam had repeated, "would you like to have sex with me? You can say no. I realize it's probably unusual to ask that of someone who has just almost hit you with their car, but I'm very upset and my girlfriend broke up with me recently, so I don't have anyone to help me relax. I find sex very relaxing. I haven't had it with men but I've read enough to understand the mechanics. So would you like to have it? With me?"

Nigel wasn't a praying man, but he'd looked skyward and said a quiet thank-you to whoever had put this miracle in his path.

"Oh," Adam had startled, remembering himself. "My name's Adam. It's very nice to meet you."

He'd shuffled his hold on the box to hold out his slender hand with perfect sincerity, and Nigel had fallen.

"Nigel," he'd answered, taking the kid's offer like it was made of solid gold.

Adam had smiled at having his social gesture accepted and mirrored back, such a small and private glee that Nigel felt like he was intruding. It was the most precious fucking thing he'd had ever seen. Adam had stared at the tattoo on Nigel's neck, not asking about it but obviously wanting to.

He had some self control, apparently.

After that introduction, Nigel had said 'fuck it' and decided to roll with whatever Adam did and said. Reckless, maybe, but unless this buttoned-down sweetheart was hiding a murder basement, he felt confident he could roll with any surprises. He trailed like a puppy at the kid's heels as they hiked fifteen blocks to his apartment (Adam had insisted Nigel park somewhere reputable nearby because he didn't feel safe driving with someone who had nearly hit him and preferred walking, anyway).

He scowled at Nigel's smoking, but couldn't argue that he had a right to on city sidewalks. As long as it didn't mean he'd drop Adam's box (which Nigel had obviously offered to carry even though Adam informed him it was not very heavy), he could allow it.

By the time they got to the brownstone Adam called home, Nigel had a pretty decent read on his new friend's way of thinking. Adam said what he meant and didn't seem to catch on to sarcasm or even what Nigel considered pretty overt double-entendres. That was fine. Nigel could adapt. It was refreshing, in a way; a nice change of pace from all the wormy fucks he was used to dealing with.

So yeah, Nigel knows better than to judge by looks. Knows that sometimes, people surprise the fuck out of you when you least expect it.

Still, standing in Adam's kitchen, watching the chattering ball of energy tuck away his things and hang his blazer in the front closet and explain how all his routines have been thrown off and he's hungry but he'd like to have sex first so he doesn't get indigestion, Nigel thinks he has a decent idea what the kid is going to look like when he finally gets his clothes off and shuts him up.

Long. Lean. Soft in all the right places. Pale and slight and shivering with nerves right up until Nigel slides inside him and makes all those racing thoughts go quiet. He isn't short, but he's small in a way that drives Nigel wild.

The apartment itself backs up his theories. It's squeaky-clean, organized to a fault. There are rows and rows of alphabetized books way above Nigel's pay grade. An overall theme of space and science jumps out, though he doesn't know enough about fucking quantum theory to make heads or tails of it. It occurs to him that he has no fucking clue what this kid does for a living that he just got fired from, but he might be a genius.

Then again, how smart can he be if he invited a guy like Nigel to his place for sex after knowing him for thirty seconds? He smirks to himself. Everyone's got blind spots, he figures. Hell, he followed Adam here. Maybe they're both lonelier than they are smart.

Adam is entirely unaware of this thought process as he finishes pacing, making sure everything is in its right place before he steps up to Nigel (standing in the kitchen with a glass of water, astounded at his luck) and informs him that he would like to kiss, now.

"Unless you'd prefer not to," he reconsiders, brow furrowing. "I suppose we just met. Some people—"

"Gorgeous," Nigel smiles, tilting Adam's chin up with one finger and absolutely melting at the way those full lips part for it. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

Adam squints. "Are you sure? Because I'd rather—"

Nigel kisses him like he's been waiting a year to do it and not the better part of 90 minutes. He doesn't want to hear what Adam would rather do; he's pretty sure it's something like organizing his mechanical pencils or lecturing perfectly decent people on their vices.

The noise Adam makes shoots straight to Nigel's cock. It's a mewl, a moan, a muffled expression of surprise and wanting. It's delicious. His lips part for Nigel's tongue and, given air to carry its vibrations, the sound blooms like springtime.

Nigel is going to eat this boy alive.

Adam pulls away to catch his breath, panting and raw. His pupils are already blown out, cheeks flushed and red. God, he is going to look so perfect wrapped around Nigel's dick.

"You—you taste like cigarettes," Adam rasps.

Nigel huffs a small laugh, delighted. His rough fingers trace Adam's smooth jaw.

"And you taste like heaven," he answers.

Adam opens his mouth like he's about to inform Nigel that heaven is an invented religious concept and has no flavor (although if he had to pick one it would probably be hot chocolate, made with milk and not water, two percent rather than whole milk because that would be too rich and might hurt his stomach) but Nigel cuts him off with a series of deep, wet, sucking kisses to his neck.

The sounds he makes are devastating.

"You want to show me your bedroom, gorgeous?" Nigel asks, voice low and liquid and ruined already.

He's half-hard and gaining speed, the tent in his jeans verging on criminal. He tries to keep his hips tucked back and away to keep from intimidating or putting pressure on Adam, but it's a fucking effort. He wants to rut against what is almost certainly an adorably pink little cock tucked into y-fronts he'll have fun pulling off with his teeth.

"Do I—" Adam starts, having trouble organizing his thoughts with Nigel's scent wrapped around his lungs. "Oh. Yes. For sex."

His fingers are tangled in the collar of Nigel's cheap Hawaiian shirt, knuckles nearly white. The space between them is rapidly shrinking and Nigel is happy to hurry it along and find out what he's up against, but he also really wants to kiss the rest of this breathtaking stranger.

"If you're still looking to relax," Nigel purrs, teeth scraping his throat. "Seems like the place to do it."

Adam nods feverishly. "Yes. I am. End of the hall, on the right."

He shrieks when Nigel lifts him into a bridal carry, sauntering towards the little blue room with its little blue bed. Adam insists he isn't a child, that he's capable of walking, but his cheeks are pink and he's smiling ear to ear.

Nigel hasn't fucked a lot of men and certainly not while sober, but Adam is so painfully pretty he doesn't think it's going to matter all that much. An ass is an ass, and Adam's is fucking perfect.

"Nigel!" Adam huffs as he's tossed onto the duvet. Despite the protest, he can't stop grinning.

"Sorry, gorgeous," Nigel shrugs, prowling closer. His canines are showing. "Couldn't help myself."

Adam tries to get control of his face. Nigel doesn't want to let him. He pulls Adam back into a kiss before talking causes another intermission, tugging a tidy cable knit sweater up from neatly-pressed khakis. Fucking kid dresses like he's pushing eighty, but Nigel's dying to touch all the supple skin hidden underneath.

"This isn't typical for me," Adam explains between shallow breaths, nerves fraying as Nigel peels the sweater over his head.

"Which part?"

"A—all of it," Adam stammers. His eyes are wide as saucers, flicking between Nigel's chin, forehead, tattoo, lips as the older man boxes him in. "Not sex in general, I mean, I've had sex. I like sex."

Nigel works open Adam's top button, kissing along his jaw.

"That makes two of us," he purrs.

Adam keens, but he's gone stiff beneath Nigel's touch. His pulse is racing, and his voice keeps pitching higher the longer he speaks.

"Good. That's, that's good. It would be bad if you didn't, because—well, I guess you wouldn't have come here. Honestly, I didn't think you would, but I had a bad day, and you almost hit me, but you're very handsome—"

"Adam," Nigel murmurs into his neck. There's no irritation in it, only calm. "I want to be here. I want to have sex with you."

He feels Adam unclench. "Oh."

Nigel smirks. He draws back, Adam's sweater in hand, noting the way those baby blue eyes follow it to its resting place on the floor like a test Nigel's too riled up to pass.

"That's not where that goes," Adam says breathlessly, though he makes no move to retrieve it. He seems surprised by his own lack of distress, as if he's simply stating a fact rather than on the verge of panic.

"I'll fold it after," Nigel smirks at him, playful but not mocking. Adam's expression tightens. He looks confused when all he finds is the truth in Nigel's words, plain and simple. It's clear he isn't used to that, to being liked rather than tolerated, and Nigel's going to fix that if it takes him all fucking night.

"I promise," he adds, kissing Adam's wrist.

Adam nods, a tiny thing that feels like a blessing. Something far too soft flickers in Nigel's chest, so he presses himself down and kisses Adam again, slower. Gentler. Trust is earned with this angel, Nigel can tell, like extending a hand to a wild animal. He can work with that.

Once they start to find a rhythm, Nigel guides Adam's slender fingers to his own buttons. Given permission and encouragement, they fly into action. It's awkward and a bit fumbling, with Nigel on top unwilling to stop kissing him, but pretty soon he's got the older man's shirt off. When Adam's palms run up the thickly-muscled chest to find a blanket of dark chest hair, he groans.

Nigel pulls away to grin at him, pleased. "You like that, gorgeous?"

Adam is staring at him like he's witnessed the divine. His lips are parted and swollen, pupils black, and he's carding his fingers through the graying thicket of hair in a state of awe.

"Yes," he pants, then nods several times in a row. "You're very attractive."

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he says it. He gropes Nigel's chest, exploring the expanse of him with trembling, then greedy fingers. They find and trace his patchwork collection of scars like he's mapping constellations. When he rubs a nipple and gets a hiss of surprised pleasure, his eyes flick up to meet Nigel's for a split second. Adam looks euphoric.

"I've never touched a man like this before," he says. "It's different."

Nigel thinks he might die. It's taking everything he has not to rock down and rub himself against Adam, even through the fucking khaki that's all bunched up and not giving him any kind of a preview.

"Good different?"

Adam gasps as if it hadn't even occurred to him that it might not be. His hands fly to Nigel's face, holding him to make his point clear.

"Oh, very good. Really good. I'm glad you said yes."

"Fuck," Nigel exhales, returning to unbuttoning Adam's shirt because he can't wait any longer. "So am I."

Adam doesn't freeze this time. He's a little tense, shivering slightly when Nigel finally has him bare from the waist up, but the endless kisses and nips to his exposed skin stop him from spiralling. He's as gorgeous as Nigel had expected, all creamy pale skin and pert, dusky pink nipples. Barely a hair on him, but there's muscle enough to sink his teeth into.

"Oh, Nigel, that's… That feels really good."

Nigel keeps his touch firm and broad, pressure without tickling. Adam responds well to bites and sucking kisses, so he gives his angel as many as he can take without overdoing it. The results are promising.

"Yes, yes, please," Adam whimpers, and Nigel smirks into his hip.

Everything he's learned about Adam so far tells him it's good to be direct, so he is. He looks up from where he's bent over Adam's stomach and puts one hand on the button of his pants.

"Adam, baby," Nigel asks, barely recognizing himself, "can I suck your cock?"

Adam freezes. His hands bunch in the sheets. Nigel starts to pull back, but Adam grabs him by the shoulder.

"Y-yes," he stammers, twitching with nervous energy. "B-but. Um."

He wants to say something, that much is obvious. Nigel takes his hand off the button to pet his arm reassuringly. Confusion strikes him when Adam makes a bereft huff of disappointment.

"But what, gorgeous?" Nigel asks. He's being so good, so patient, even though this fucking kid is the one who propositioned him in the street. "You nervous? Hell, I'm nervous."

Adam's frantic energy calms a little at that. "You are?"

Nigel gives an open, loud laugh that Adam mirrors reflexively. He bites and releases his lower lip, grinning. "Shit, yeah. 'Course I am. You think I go around sucking strangers' dicks every day?"

Adam blinks. "I have no idea. We just met. It seems unlikely, though."

"Adam," Nigel sighs playfully, "I don't. But I'd like to suck yours."

"Okay," Adam says, another short nod accompanied by a lopsided smile. "But that wasn't what I was going to say."

Nigel's already undoing the button and has his fingers on the zipper pull. "Then what was it, baby?"

It feels like a victory when he sees the top of the briefs, cute little y-fronts just like he predicted, but the victory is short-lived. When he finally gets the damn khakis up and over Adam's hips, he freezes.

"Um."

Nigel stares. He blinks. He thinks maybe it's a trick of the light, but then the fucking thing twitches, and his mouth goes dry.

"Adam."

"Y-yes?"

"What. The fuck?"

"Oh. Well," Adam stammers. "That's, um, what I was trying to say."

Nigel isn't often lost for words. Part of him knows he shouldn't be surprised, given how unexpected everything about Adam Raki has been, but even he isn't chill enough to act like this isn't a big deal.

Because it is. A deal.

And incredibly fucking big.

"Yeah," Adam says, small and shy with his lower lip between his teeth.

It's the kind of behavior that would lead a guy like Nigel to think he probably didn't have a fucking monster cock tucked in his briefs.

And it is—both monstrous and tucked up and to the side in a tight white prison of cotton, the swollen head of it leaking all the way at his hip. The thing's got to be nine or ten inches at least, Nigel hasn't measured enough dicks to know for sure, but it's thick as a coke can and an active threat. It's the kind of thing that in polite society, you'd warn someone about.

"Holy fuck," he whispers, because that's about all he's capable of.

Nigel knows Adam isn't much for eye contact, but when he flicks his stunned gaze up, the boy looks downright sheepish. He's squirming into himself, ashamed or embarrassed but also still deeply aroused.

"I'm, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I didn't, I wasn't sure if I should say something."

A shocked laugh shakes Nigel's shoulders. He's staring at the kid in disbelief.

"What, about how you have a fucking porn star cock? Jesus Christ, Adam. You could put somebody's eye out with this thing."

Adam twitches like he wants to fold in on himself until he blinks out of existence, but he's still hard and Nigel's still gripping his upper thighs so he can't escape.

"I'm… I don't know," he shrugs tightly, looking anywhere but at Nigel or his own lap. It all starts spilling out. "It's the only one I've ever had. Beth wouldn't put it in her mouth and we could only ever have sex after I'd given her 'at least one orgasm' and sometimes she'd be sore afterwards anyway, which I felt bad about, but she said it was a 'secret weapon' and that if any of her girlfriends knew about it, they'd understand why she was still with me."

Nigel feels like the wind's been knocked out of him. He sits in stunned silence for a moment, processing all that. Adam's starting to look deeply uncomfortable, and he's softening, which just won't do.

No. No, that's not how this is going to end.

"That's fucked," he says at last, because it is. It's hard to keep the anger out of his voice. "She said that? To your face? Christ, kid. I'm sorry, but I'm glad she's gone. You're telling me she had an angel like you with a dick like this and she made you feel like, like—"

He has to take a beat to keep himself in check. He sighs, not wanting to upset Adam further. He pets those gorgeous milky thighs with his thumbs, making his face kinder.

"She didn't deserve you," he settles on, fuelled by the timid hope in Adam's eyes. His sweetheart wants to be accepted so fucking badly, and who doesn't? That Beth cunt is lucky she's out of his life, or Nigel would make hers a living hell. "You're a fucking model, straight out of a painting, and this…"

He makes a show of reaching up to grip Adam's cock through his briefs. He lets his eyes roll back and his lips part, and it's barely an act. Adam mewls, hips thrusting a little. He's pink from his cheeks to his navel.

"…This is a privilege."

"Oh, I don't—!"

Even without being fully hard, the thing is enormous, almost too thick for Nigel's hand to wrap around. It's hot, too, so hot, and heavy, and it pulses in his grip. Something about the sheer volume of it has him throbbing in his jeans.

"This is a gift," he continues, squeezing again to hear Adam try to stifle his groans. His cock is coming back to life in a hurry, eager for Nigel's touch and attention. Nigel's eager to give it. "A fucking masterpiece."

Adam's noises grow desperate. They break and shudder when Nigel brings his lips to the stretched-out fabric, mouthing along the warm heft, tonguing at it when that doesn't feel like enough. When he reaches the tip and tastes the salty precome absolutely drenching the cotton, he makes a sound that isn't quite human.

"Oh god, Nigel," Adam pants. "I'm, it's not—I'm sorry if it's too much."

Nigel growls a warning. His eyes flash. Without hesitation, he does what he said he was going to do, and yanks Adam's briefs down with his teeth.

Well. With his hands, also, because there's a pretty significant obstacle.

"Fuck, Adam."

Nigel's never in his life thought of himself as a fucking size queen, generally content to top pretty boys with modest pricks if he's going to. He's seen the glazed-over expression on a few girls when he whips it out, though—Nigel's no slouch, bigger than average and plenty thick even if he's not a fucking legend like Adam—and wonders if he looks all that different right now.

"Y-yeah?"

Nigel can't answer right away beyond a low, guttural grunt. Adam's cock, now bared and inches from his face, is a marvel to behold. His balls are fully and heavy, intimidating in their own right. He's cut, and the hair at the base is sparse, but that's where its humility ends. It might as well have its own gravity. Too heavy to sit up against his belly, too aroused to stop from leaking profusely, it feels like sex itself attached itself to Adam because he was the last person on Earth who'd know what to do with it.

Nigel knows.

He wants to know.

He's going to figure it out.

"Not too much," he mumbles emphatically, breath hot against the sensitive flesh. "Never too much, baby. Don't you ever let anyone tell you that."

Adam shivers when Nigel kisses up the side of his shaft, swollen head cradled in a broad palm. Nigel swipes his thumb through the leaking slit and Adam gasps, arching into the feeling. His hands are balled in fists at his side, all his concentration on what this rough-hewn stranger is doing to him.

"Nigel…" Adam whines.

His lids are clenched shut, the flush on his cheeks darkening by the second. He's stunning like this. Drawn tight and unwound all at once, buzzing with enough energy to power a small city. He's panting like he's never had anyone touch him this way. Nigel realizes with a groan that he probably hasn't.

Beth couldn't handle it, or didn't want to. She'd made him feel bad about it, insecure, demanding Adam bring her to orgasm before she'd even consider his pleasure. Nigel sees red just thinking about it. He wants to shake her 'til her jaw comes loose, but more than that, he wants to show Adam that he deserves to be tasted like this. Worshipped.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Nigel answers, stroking slowly, really making a show of how lucky he feels. It's not a lie. He can't get over how satisfying the heft is, the smoothness of the skin as he works the slick of Adam's precome down from the head. "Fucking gorgeous, you are. Every bit. Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

Adam's gritted teeth part on a cry as Nigel finally licks at the head. The sound is its own drug, racing through Nigel's system, overloading him with need. All his hesitation falls away. He'll take this behemoth if it kills him. It'll be worth it to hear Adam's surprised little whines of pleasure.

"Oh, Nigel, that's good," Adam huffs in disbelief. "Really, really good…!"

There's guilt in his tone, like he's an imposition. Nigel resolves to suck it out of him. Humming in response, he takes the tip of Adam's cock into his mouth. He's barely done this, and not on anything close to this size, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge. Palming Adam's tightening balls, he wonders how the poor kid shops for pants.

"Ni—!" Adam squirms, breathless. "Oh!"

His hips give an automatic thrust. Nigel nearly chokes. Self-preservation is going to be an issue here, he learns. He adjusts his approach, holding Adam down by one hip and gripping the wide base with his other hand. His sack will have to wait. Nigel was right—his fingers barely touch. It's awkward, and he wishes he was on his knees instead of leaning over the boy, but nobody ever learned a lesson by getting it right the first time.

Above him, Adam is panting like he's run a mile. "Oh, I'm, I'm sorry!"

Nigel grunts dismissively, then pops off with a wet smack. He blinks up at Adam, undone by the ruined sight of him. His hair is wild, curlier than it was before. A fucking dream, out of his mind with sensation.

"Not a single fucking thing to be sorry for, gorgeous," Nigel purrs, laving his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Adam's cock. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want it."

Though he's on the verge of hyperventilation, Adam's eyes go soft at the sentiment. Precious, Nigel thinks again.

"R-really? You're not just—ah—saying that?"

Nigel wants to laugh, to tease him, but he's picked up enough in the last ninety minutes to figure it might not go over like he means it. Clarity, he reminds himself.

"No," Nigel assures him between kitten licks and his best attempt at doe eyes for a crime lord in his forties. "Not just saying it. Nowhere else I'd rather fucking be."

He wraps his lips around the head again with a low growl, swirling his tongue and stroking the length a few times to emphasize his point. Adam gasps loudly, throat bobbing. He falls back to his elbows, though his fists stay balled tight beside him.

Nigel takes a guess that he might like something to do with his hands. Balancing precariously for a second, he takes one of them by the wrist and guides it to his hair. Adam does a sharp little inhale, fingers tensed for a second before he gets the hint and cards them through the silky strands. Nigel closes his fist around them to encourage Adam to grip.

"Ni—?!"

God, he's perfect, shy as a kitten with his giant cock in Nigel's mouth. The older man grunts, nodding his head in answer. He squeezes Adam's hand. It's so tentative, the way he finally grips Nigel by the back of his head and, ever so gingerly, tugs.

Nigel groans around him. Unh-hungh. No room for error. He takes a little more, tongue flat under the girth already testing the limits of his jaw. He's only got a few inches between his stretched-thin lips but Adam's moaning and writhing like he's buried in Nigel's throat.

"Oh, oh, oh," he repeats, over and over until it becomes nothing more than a series of shallow breaths. He tugs harder, not shoving Nigel down but holding onto him for dear life. "Nigel, Nigel, Nigel…!"

It's heaven, is what it is. Breathing through his nose is a challenge. Keeping his teeth tucked away takes focus. His own cock, still trapped in his jeans, hurts from going so long ignored, but it'll have to wait. There are more immediate concerns; his back is starting to ache, and he can feel saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, dribbling to pool at the saddle of his thumb. It joins the rest of the fluids slicking up Adam's cock as Nigel jerks what he can't fit in his mouth.

If anyone but Adam saw him like this, he'd show them the business end of a barrell. Hell, if they so much as insinuated Nigel had ever found himself in this position, they'd be eating through a straw for the next month.

On the other hand, if he thought for a second that Adam wasn't convinced this was what Nigel was born to do, he'd blow his own brains out. Shaking off the image, he hollows his cheeks and picks up the pace. Adam's other hand finds his hair, emboldened or simple too far gone to be nervous, Nigel couldn't say. He couldn't say much of fucking anything with Adam's horse cock gagging him senseless.

"Ni—Nigel!" Adam yelps, pulling him off by the hair with surprising strength.

Nigel frowns, confused, and tries to get back to it. No way he's stopping before his angel comes. He dips down, but Adam yanks him up, shaking his head frantically.

"You have to, to stop," Adam warns him. "I'm going to come."

Nigel's voice is rough as he chuckles. "That's the fucking point, gorgeous."

Adam's chin jerks side to side in distress. In Nigel's grip, his cock twitches, a bead of precome forming and spilling over. Nigel mourns the loss.

"Not—not yet," Adam argues, obviously struggling to form a thought.

It's extremely flattering until he drops a bomb in Nigel's lap.

"I want—I'd like to be inside you," he stammers.

Nigel nearly swallows his tongue.

"Inside…" he starts, unsure he's heard correctly. He pulls back a little, up onto one elbow. The other is still holding the base of Adam's heavy length. "You want… to fuck me? With this?"

He can't keep the nervous quiver out of his voice as the sentence lands. He doesn't mean to balk, but there's only so much a guy can take in stride. Nigel looks at the school bus between Adam's legs and feels a sharp spike of panic.

And then Adam—sweet, flawless, wonderful Adam—makes an impossibly soft whimper of embarrassment.

"I'm, nevermind," he says, looking for all the world like he wants to slip through the floorboards and disappear. He pulls out of Nigel's hold, drawing his knees up as he shrinks against the pillows. "Forget—forget I said that. I'm sorry. You're right. Stupid, I'm stupid, Beth was right, it's too big—,"

Nigel hears sirens. His vision whites out. He grabs Adam by the jaw and cuts off his stream of panic with a deep, hungry kiss.

"Ni—mmph!"

Adam tries to pause the lip-lock to protest, to insist something that'll break Nigel's heart. Nigel doesn't let him. He kisses with his whole body, petting Adam everywhere he can reach. Showering him with affection until his angel melts back into butter, grinning against Nigel's mouth.

"If you want to fuck me," Nigel breathes between kisses, already fumbling for his belt, "then sweetheart, we'd better get started."

"Nigel," Adam giggles, like fucking sunshine itself, warm and trickling down Nigel's spine to rest heavy and warm in his core. "Stop, I'm sorry, we don't have to!"

"Oh yes we fucking do," Nigel smirks into the dip behind Adam's ear. "I'm going to ride that big beautiful cock 'til neither of us can walk straight."

Adam's breath catches. "Oh—!"

Nigel nips at his throat and guides Adam's hand down to touch himself. He licks and bites at a nipple for good measure. "God. Feel how thick you are, baby? Gonna stretch daddy out so he can take it nice and deep?"

"NIGEL," Adam yelps, shocked and thrilled in equal measure.

His cock pulses and drips before his brain can catch up to all the reasons that's wrong and inappropriate. Nigel hadn't meant to say it and Adam definitely hadn't expected to hear it, but now it's out there and fuck it if he's going to take it back. Nigel would pay anything, do anything to hear his name said like that every day for the rest of his life.

"Mmm. Thought so. Big boy like you, can't be too careful."

Adam's eyes go wide, sparkling with delight like he's just discovered buried treasure in his bran flakes. His hands fly to his mouth, trembling as they try to cover his grin, but Nigel drags one back to keep him stroking himself. His fingers are long but his hands are smaller than Nigel's. He can't reach all the way around at his girthiest point. The whole thing sends Nigel's blood hot. He gets the feeling Adam's discovering a lot about himself today.

Sure as shit makes two of them.

"You gonna help me?" Nigel asks, finally drawing back to get the rest of his clothes off. "Get me ready for you?"

Adam nods tightly, shy and pink and utterly enchanting. Nigel's eyes roll back with relief as he finally unzips and kicks his jeans off. He takes a moment to palm himself through his boxers. Adam watches with rapt fascination, biting his lower lip. He squeezes himself tightly, like he's trying to keep his cock under control, and Nigel has no idea what good deed brought this treasure into his life, but he's grateful down to his toes.

With a smirk, Nigel drags the waistband of his boxers over the wet head of his cock so that it slaps back against his slightly soft stomach. Adam lets out a silent gasp and strokes himself root to tip, legs flexing restlessly. Nigel feels like one of the girls at his club, teasing him like this. Working him up.

It's a powerful thing.

Once Nigel's finally free of his clothing, he prowls back up the bed and slides himself between Adam's thighs. Blue eyes flash as Nigel sits back on his heels and grips himself, peeling back his foreskin like he's working for tips. Adam watches him with his bruised lips parted. The tip of his pink tongue sits against his bottom teeth, waiting.

"Oh, Nigel," he murmurs, reaching out to run a trembling hand back through the dense fur covering Nigel's chest. He seems quite fixed on it, but his eyes don't leave Nigel's dick. "You're very handsome. You look e-even better naked. Some people don't, but you do."

He'd be the sweetest little darling Nigel ever took apart if not for the giant slab of meat in his fist. Questions flood Nigel's mind. How does he jerk off? Was that really his first proper blow job? How would he look in a pair of Nigel's grey sweatpants, hanging dangerously off his slim hips, clinging to every ridge and vein of his massive bulge?

He groans. He wants to know everything.

"Thank you, gorgeous," he smiles. "You're a fucking vision."

Adam makes a strange, pleased, nervous little hiccup of delight. Smirking, Nigel repositions them so that he's the one leaning against the pillows and Adam is knelt between his legs. From this angle, his meaty cock is even more impressive, hanging heavy and intimidating over his substantial balls. It's striking, how outsized his junk is compared to his willowy frame. The contrast is delicious in a hedonistic, filthy way Nigel can't get enough of. He grips himself once, then runs a thumb over Adam's pouty lower lip.

"Do you have lube, baby?" he asks, awkward about being so direct but knowing it'll likely get him better results. No fucking way that thing's going near his ass without all the help it can get.

"Oh!" Adam chirps, a living doll blinking his long lashes. He smiles, happy to be helpful, and points at his bedside table. "Yes. It's water-based, which is generally considered preferable for anal intercourse."

Nigel swallows the startled laugh that threatens to bubble out of his throat. He really doesn't want Adam to think he's laughing at him rather than with delight because of him. They can work on that distinction later.

"You think of everything, don't you?" Nigel grins.

Adam shrugs. "Not everything. That would be impossible."

No shit, Nigel thinks.

He says nothing.

Reaching into the top drawer, he finds what he's looking for—along with an opened box of magnum condoms, a pack of sensitive skin-friendly wet wipes, what looks like a clear plastic jellyfish, and two vintage porno mags.

"Damn, baby," Nigel huffs, amused and more than a little surprised. "You're a certified horndog!"

Adam's head tilts. He looks confused, perched on the edge of an inquisition. Nigel winces, remembering.

"Not… It's a turn of phrase. Seems like you're used to having a good time, that's all."

"Oh," Adam replies plainly. He shakes his head once. "Not especially. Some of it is left over from when I was with Beth, but most of it is for masturbation. It's difficult for me to reach orgasm manually, especially one-handed. The water-based lube works with the silicone sleeve, though Beth said it helped with vaginal penetration because my penis is too—"

Nigel cuts him off because if he hears her name one more time, he's going to commit violence. He pets down Adam's arm, exhaling through his nose, then hands him the lube and spreads his legs. He's more thankful than ever that he took a shower right before he left for the joyride that almost crippled Adam, but that doesn't mean he isn't a little anxious.

Adam watches with that same reverent fascination Nigel bets is usually reserved for space shuttle footage or Ted Talks about black holes or some shit. It helps with the nerves. Adam strokes his hands down Nigel's calves, then the backs of his thighs. Nigel's felt less vulnerable with a gun to his temple.

"You're so hairy," Adam informs him with the tone of someone discovering the kitchen had sent out free dessert. "It's very masculine."

Nigel doesn't blush, but whatever the closest thing is, his face does it. He rubs a hand over his jaw and tries not to tremble as Adam guides his knees up and spreads his cheeks to get a better look.

"Is that… okay?" Nigel asks, wincing when he hears himself. Since when does he ask shit like that of someone he takes to bed?

Since Adam, apparently, who responds by kneading the swell of his ass and placing a shy kiss to his inner thigh.

"Oh, yes," Adam insists brightly. He strokes Nigel's cock a few times, palming his aching balls before trailing down to pet one finger experimentally over his hole. "Your body is very sexually exciting."

Nigel hisses, trying to force himself not to retract. His ass clenches and flutters under Adam's touch. It's not surprising, considering the most he's ever had up there is a finger when one of his girls was in a hurry to be someplace, and by then he was so gone he'd barely felt it slip in.

"I'm, ha, glad you think so," he fires back, working to steady his breathing. He's ready to get this over with, but Adam's taking his time exploring.

"I do," Adam chirps back, circling Nigel's hole now. His other hand grips the back of one of Nigel's thighs, holding him open. He seems to have no concept of how difficult this is for a guy like Nigel, but maybe that's fine. "You'll have to tell me how this feels. I've never been penetrated anally by another person. I'm very curious if it's as pleasurable as I've read."

Nigel tries to bargain with the ceiling for mercy. It offers none. He bites his fist as Adam pops the cap on the lube and squirts some on his fingers. The wet sound of him warming it up is both reassuring and menacing. He doesn't draw it out, though. Adam's set himself to a task, and he's going to see it through.

A slick digit meets his rim, circling it rhythmically for several seconds before it pushes in to the first knuckle.

"Oh, fuck," Nigel groans, throwing his head back against the pillow.

The hand on his thigh squeezes gently. Adam's cheek rests on his knee for a moment.

"It will be easier if you relax," he tells Nigel, like it's that simple.

"I'm trying, angel," Nigel huffs, brows knitting as he urges his body to stop fighting the intrusion. Looking at Adam's perfect face certainly helps.

The finger inside him gradually makes its way to the second knuckle. It's bizarre, it goes against everything Nigel would normally allow, but he said he'd do this and he's going to. He reminds himself of shitty-ex-Beth and her lack of appreciation, and bears down.

"Oh, that's good," Adam grins. He's genuinely pleased, working the finger in and out, teasing Nigel open. "I'm going to add another finger now, okay?"

Nigel bites his lip and nods tightly. This is going to end him. He's starting to sweat, pulse racing to keep up with Adam's touch. His cock is flagging, but neither of them seem to be paying it much attention.

He groans weakly when Adam's second finger breaches him. His darling guides them in and out almost clinically, so careful, smiling softly the whole time. It's uncomfortable, verging on painful, though the lube helps considerably. Nigel assumes that at some point it'll start feeling good. He hopes it's soon.

Right as he's thinking it, Adam's fingers curl up and brush the bundle of nerves inside him that send a flood of electric pleasure through his veins.

"Oh, god—!" Nigel cries, shocked at how fucking incredible it feels.

He looks up frantically to see Adam grinning ear to ear between his legs.

"There," his angel says, pleased as punch. "That's your prostate."

Nigel can't help the strangled laughter. A drop of sweat runs down his temple.

"No shit," he answers, voice rasped with disbelief. "Jesus Christ, Adam. That feels—"

Adam brushes it again, circling around it, sending wave after wave of mindblowing sensation up Nigel's spine. His cock swells back to life in a hurry. Adam looks at it like he's won a prize by solving a difficult equation. His wide-eyed grin is far too innocent for the occasion.

"I like seeing you like this," he praises, not stopping for an instant. "You're so tight, daddy."

"Fuck," Nigel whines, back arching, hips rocking into the touch. He's losing track of himself in a hurry. "Christ, Adam!"

The two fingers pull away just long enough to welcome a third, but soon they're back to abusing the wildly sensitive nub. He notices Adam didn't announce it first; there's some relief in thinking he might be a little caught up in all this, too.

His hypothesis is confirmed when Adam's massive dick brushes against his calf. Blue eyes flutter. Adam chases the feeling shamelessly, rutting on Nigel's leg as he spreads and scissors his hole. There's still discomfort, but it's hard to focus on with all the pleasure bouncing between them.

"Does it feel good, daddy?" Adam asks, clearly sinking his teeth into that word and what it does to both of them. Nigel feels himself pulse every time it lands, feels Adam rock his hips a little needier.

He's not about to let that go to waste.

"Fuck, yes, baby," he groans, running his hands over his own stomach, gripping his cock for a bit of relief. Adam whimpers at the way Nigel tightens when he strokes himself up from the base. "So fucking good. You make daddy so hard, opening me up for that big fucking dick of yours."

The high, needy whine in contrast to the massive, dripping weight against Nigel's calf is enough to send him reeling. Nigel's found his own secret spot in Adam, and it's shaped like kinky pillow talk. He's going to keep pressing it until his angel pops.

"Nigel…" Adam sighs desperately, somehow working in a fourth finger, stretching him further than Nigel had thought possible and yet still so much smaller than what's coming.

"Yeah," Nigel grunts, impatient and terrified and drunk with arousal all at once. "That's it, baby boy. Get me nice and wet. Fuck. You ready to fill me up?"

Adam nods fervently, practically begging despite being the one knuckles-deep in Nigel's ass. They're both shining with sweat, hair wild and eyes glassy. Nigel has to squeeze himself tightly by the base; it hurts, but between the pressure on his prostate and his own hand, this is going to be over way too soon if they don't get things moving.

Now or never, Nigel thinks with what's left of his mind. He clears his throat.

"D-do you want to use a condom, sweetheart?"

Adam stills for a moment, considering. He tilts his head. Nigel has to grit his teeth to keep himself from fucking back onto his fingers.

"We probably should," he answers, then starts idly thrusting his fingers back in like he's fidgeting to keep his train of thought. Nigel feels insane. "We don't know each other, and statistically, anal sex poses a higher risk for transmission of infection—"

"Great," Nigel interrupts, barely coherent. "Then you should get one."

Adam's face pinches. He frowns. He does not stop circling Nigel's prostate.

"But," he continues, as if Nigel hadn't spoken, "I don't really want to."

It's not easy for Nigel to keep himself from cracking up. This kid is from another planet, but it's one he'd move to in a heartbeat.

"Y-you don't?" he stammers out, gripping himself so tightly he might pass out.

Adam doesn't seem to notice. "No. I will if you want, or if you have a communicable disease, or engage in high risk behaviors such as—"

"I'm clean," Nigel cuts him off, willing to do anything to get past this conversation. "I mean, I had to get checked out for—Christ, baby, you gotta stop or you'll make me cum."

Adam stops. He seems to realize the situation, and blushes with that same sheepish look that makes Nigel see wedding bells and matching fucking towels. Adam pulls his fingers out and snatches a wet wipe from the drawer to clean them off, a neat freak in almost every way.

"Sorry," he demurs, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Would you mind, though? I've never had sex without one and I think it would feel really good."

Nigel is sure he's dreaming. He never wants to wake up. Leaning up on one shaky elbow, he pulls Adam into a deep, hungry kiss. Adam loses his balance, falling forward so that their cocks bump together. They both groan. For a moment, neither of them can do anything but grind into the feeling.

When Nigel looks down, his breath catches. Sweet, delicate Adam's colossal prick makes his own look practically average. He has no fucking clue how it's going to fit inside him, but a snarling hunger in his belly is desperate to try.

"If you want to fuck me raw, baby," Nigel murmurs against his kiss-bruised lips, "you better do it. Make daddy feel every inch."

Adam shudders, forehead falling to Nigel's shoulder. He ruts their lengths together with a whine as Nigel runs his hands over his sides and up through his sweat-damp curls. He startles when he feels a nip of teeth by his collarbone.

"Come on, gorgeous," Nigel encourages, partly because he's getting too close again and he's got a feeling it'll hurt worse if he's already peaked. "I'm ready for you."

Adam nods into his chest and pulls his hips back. He draws himself up and grabs the lube, slicking it over himself generously. His lips part in prayer as he strokes himself a few times, lashes fluttering. If Nigel could paint, he'd have a portrait of this in every room in his house.

"Okay, daddy," he replies, soft and sweet as honey. "Tell me if it hurts. I want it to feel good."

Nigel feels something warm flip over itself in his gut. He swallows, pulling Adam in for one more slippery kiss before his angel lines himself up.

"I will, baby. Promise."

Adam shivers. With one hand spreading Nigel and the other gripping himself, he begins to push.

It feels impossible. Even stretched and out of his mind with endorphins, the head of Adam's cock is immense. Nigel does his best to breathe, pushing against it, willing his muscles to relax.

"Touch yourself," Adam reminds him.

Nigel does. It helps. The moment he feels himself give, he cries out so loudly he's sure Adam's neighbors will complain. It's just the head, just the first couple inches, but it's like being split apart.

"Ffffuuuuck," he yells, completely overwhelmed. It hurts, fuck it hurts, but it's Adam and the rest of him is so perfect.

"Oh, Nigel," Adam gasps, breathless. His grip on Nigel's thigh is relentless. He sounds destroyed. "You're so hot. So tight. Fuck!"

It's the first time Nigel's heard him swear. It tickles him so much he forgets to be tense for a split second—long enough that Adam takes advantage and sinks halfway in.

"Fuck, fuck," Nigel groans, rubbing his face, gripping his own hair with the hand that isn't stroking his flagging dick. Adam's so good, so gorgeous, but it's still painful enough to wreck him temporarily. "Jesus, fuck!"

"Daddy," Adam mewls, high and needy and so devastating that Nigel's body gives the rest of the way.

Ruined sounds of relief fill the room as Adam's hips meet Nigel's ass. He doesn't know if it's been five minutes or fifty, but finally, there's no more to give. They fall together, messy kisses and teeth clacking, hands roaming and praising and petting in an act of mutual gratitude as they both try to get used to the intensity of being locked together.

"God, baby, you're so fucking big," Nigel manages at last. He thinks he can feel it in his ribs, hot and huge and like he's never going to walk normally again.

Adam giggles, a musical sound that takes Nigel's breath away. He nuzzles Nigel's cheek. He's so fucking happy, even as his limbs tremble and sweat pours down his chest.

"I can't—" he starts, stopping to kiss Nigel once, then again, like he can't believe this is real. "I've never felt this. N-never."

The words lick up Nigel's spine. He takes a risk, petting Adam's cheek. "Never, baby? Never been this deep in someone?"

Adam shakes his head. His hips are twitching like he's holding back from driving Nigel into the mattress, and fuck if that ain't flattering as shit.

"N-no," Adam admits, kissing Nigel's palm. "C-can I move?"

Even Nigel can't help smirking at the politeness. "Yes, angel. Go slow. Daddy needs time to—fuck—to get used to how t-thick you are."

Fervent, obedient nods from Adam burst like sunshine in Nigel's chest. With a kiss to one knee, Adam glides his hips back just a little, then in again. It's a universe of sensation, but one thing Nigel notices right away (and with no shortage of relief) is that Adam's dick is so fucking big that it hits his prostate no matter how shallowly he thrusts.

Thank god for not-so-small miracles, he thinks, then shudders out a groan and digs his nails into Adam's biceps as another wave of feeling crashes over him.

"It's so, it's so good," Adam gasps out, meeting Nigel's eyes briefly. He's astonished. Nigel feels chosen by some higher power to be the cause of it. "You're so tight. It—it almost hurts, but it's so good, and so hot. Feels like you're squeezing me everywhere."

Nigel's eyes darken, stroking himself again now that he has some control over his appendages. Combined with the constant stimulation inside and the sheer overwhelm of being split in half, he'll be lucky if he lasts five minutes.

Adam doesn't look much better off.

"Feels fucking good for me, too," he chokes out, mouth dry and mind loose. Adam doesn't need to know about the pain. "Such a good boy, stuffing me so full. Can't feel anything but you."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah, baby. Fucking, yeah. Ungh. Just what I needed. Nobody else. Just your beautiful face and your giant cock fucking my brains out."

The praise works wonders. Adam keens, hips jerking. Nigel can't believe he's open enough to be fucked properly, but his clever boy manages. Between the sweat and lube and precome, the slap of their bodies together is obscene. Every time he hits that spot, Nigel sees galaxies behind his eyes. Eventually the hurt gives way to pleasure so deep he's drowning in it. He goes liquid, allowing Adam to use him like a toy.

Let's see that plastic cocksleeve make him feel like this, he thinks, astounded at his own wantonness.

Is he a slut for doing this? Is he Adam's slut?

It isn't long at all before one of them breaks.

"I-I'm close, daddy," Adam whimpers into his neck, soft and desperate as he bottoms out again and again in Nigel's red, ruined hole.

Nigel doesn't express his relief, but it glides over him like a balm. He's been trying not to come since he got in Adam's bed. He tightens his muscles, running the fingers of his free hand up Adam's chest to play with his nipples and help things along.

"Yeah, baby? You want to cum?"

"Mm-hmm," Adam nods urgently, biting his lower lip. His hips have fallen out of rhythm, and he's swollen somehow impossibly thicker inside Nigel. "Please?"

Nigel stifles a growl. He pinches a tender bud. "Please what?"

Adam's eyes become slivers of white beneath his lashes. His teeth clench.

"Please, daddy," he begs, so beautifully Nigel could cry. He might anyway, seeing as how Adam has rearranged his organs. "Please, can I come?"

Their balls slap together, Adam's fingernails digging into his thighs. Nigel would keep him like this forever, on the edge of release, if he thought his body could take it.

"Yes, angel," he purrs, drawing Adam's swollen lips to his so they brush as he speaks. "Cum for daddy. Be a good boy and fill me up."

Adam cries out, nails breaking skin as he comes. His hips still and Nigel can hardly process the sensation of his massive cock pulsing and spilling inside, thick and hot, still pressing that spot that drives the breath from Nigel's lungs.

"Fuck, baby—!"

It only takes one good twist of his wrist to follow Adam over the edge. His stomach dips as ropes of white shoot across his chest, landing sticky and wet over the dense hair. He grabs Adam by the jaw, hand still smeared with his release, and drags him into a filthy kiss.

It's the best sex he's ever had.

It feels a bit like dying.

Eventually, Adam slips back and out, leaving them both panting noisily at the disconnect. Nigel's hole flutters as what feels like a flood of come leaks out onto the bedspread they should probably burn at this point. There's a bright white sense of relief, of a strain being removed, but he misses it, too.

They kiss, and kiss, stealing each other's breaths. Nipping at lips and ears and jaws. Adam finally indulges himself in one long, lewd, open-mouthed ravishing of Nigel's tattoo.

Nigel grins into his curls.

"You like that, baby?"

Adam hums in the affirmative, suddenly sleepy yet so very happy. Nigel is not at all upset to discover that his angel goes boneless after sex, a soft kitten in need of affection. He rolls them onto their sides to face each other so Adam doesn't have to lie in the mess and gives it to him; gently stroking hands, murmurs of praise, kisses to the corner of Adam's dreamy smile.

"I'm—" Adam's words are interrupted by a yawn. "I hope that was okay."

Nigel chuckles, fingers detangling a stray curl. "It was perfect, Adam. You were perfect."

Adam practically coos. "I'm glad. I need a shower now, though. And some food. I'm very hungry."

"I'll bet. You skipped dinner for sex."

"It was the only option that made sense," Adam pouts gently.

Nigel kisses it away. "Well then, guess we'd better get cleaned up and order something."

Adam regards him curiously. His hair is wild, skin still flushed and shiny with sweat. He looks like sex, like an angel on a church ceiling if he'd just fucked the life out of someone, and Nigel knows he's a goner.

"I have mac and cheese," Adam states, as if this were obvious. "If you don't want that, I guess you can order something. Or go out, but I'd rather you didn't."

Nigel's spent. Everything hurts. He needs a cigarette and a drink and maybe a handful of painkillers, but sure. Why not.

"Mac and cheese is fine," he grins, jagged teeth catching the low light of Adam's bedroom.

"Great," Adam beams, hopping up from the bed to seek out a pair of star-patterned pajama pants with a sudden burst of energy that makes Nigel feel about 300 years old.

He doesn't mind the view, though. Adam's ass really is fantastic for a guy as lean as he is, and his cock is still massive even soft. It's the kind you'd do a double-take at in a locker room even if you weren't looking to take it for a spin. He wonders how Adam ever got through school without a reputation. Then again, most people probably saw what he did at first; scrawny, awkward, bright-eyed Adam, the least intimidating kid in class. He probably got changed in the stalls, leading the bullies to think he was hiding a tiny little prick and teasing him about it.

Nigel's grin widens. If only they'd known.

"I need to be in bed by 9:30," Adam calls to him, turning on the shower from across the hall. "My schedule has already been messed up too much."

He almost yelps when he turns to find Nigel leaning in the doorway, naked and shameless. He has no idea he's been spared the wincing, careful rise from the bed as Nigel discovered just how deep the ache spread. No reason to upset Adam; he'll be fine. He's survived worse. 

Part of him relishes the idea of feeling it for days.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Nigel tells him, lifting Adam's hands to kiss each of his knuckles. "I'll eat and get out of your hair."

Adam goes pink again, eyes flicking between where Nigel's holding him and the tattoo on his neck. Behind him, the mirror starts to cloud over with steam.

"You don't—" Adam starts, then catches himself. He seems to chew over a thought for a minute before spitting it out. "You can stay."

Nigel draws him onto his tiptoes for another deep kiss, licking into Adam's mouth. He swallows the surprised noises greedily.

"Gotta move my car and take care of some things," Nigel smirks against Adam's lips. He holds him like they're about to slow dance. "Plus, you said it. I really fucked up your routines."

Adam lets out a gently disappointed hum. "Okay," he agrees, resigned but understanding.

Nigel kisses him chastely, then pulls aside the shower curtain and ushers them both in under the water. He's sure this is a change for Adam, too, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity. The water feels incredible, just this side of too hot.

He likes how Adam's eyes rove his body as he grabs the body wash and lathers himself up. Likes how that gargantuan dick twitches when the spray washes the suds down his chest. Likes his sapphire eyes and wet curls plastered to his scalp, so thin and delicate almost everywhere.

He likes Adam probably too much.

Watching Adam watch him, he can't stop himself. "I could come back another time, if you want."

Adam's face brightens immediately. He takes the body wash from Nigel and squeezes some into his palm. "Would you want to?"

"Yes, baby," Nigel chuckles, plucking the bottle from Adam's grip and setting it aside. He could get used to anticipating his sweetheart's needs. "Whenever you want."

Dark eyebrows arch hopefully. "Tomorrow?"

Pale brows raise in response. "Tomorrow?"

Adam rubs the lather over himself as he speaks, entirely unaware that Nigel is following every bubble and drop as it washes away the sweat and sex.

"It's just, I lost my job, and I'm not sure what to do until I find another one. So I don't have a plan, which is eight hours unaccounted for on a week day, plus travel time. I have a routine for weekends, but—"

Adam yelps when Nigel squeezes his ass and spins him so that he can press his teeth gently to that sensitive neck. He tastes of alpine soap and clean skin and Adam, his new favorite flavor. 

"Tomorrow it is," he purrs.

A shiver passes through Adam. "Can we have sex again?"

Nigel huffs a laugh, biting his lip to hide the twinge of pain at his rim when his body shakes. He tucks a wet curl behind Adam's ear and snakes an arm around him to lazily thumb at one nipple. Adam shivers and wriggles closer.

"We might have to get creative," Nigel tells him, voice dripping with affection. "I think daddy might need to wait a few days to take you again."

Adam lets out a bright little noise of delight, turning over his shoulder to blink up through his wet lashes.

"Oh, that's okay, Nigel! You can penetrate me, if that's easier. I think I'd enjoy it. Your penis is much more reasonably-sized. I doubt it would be as difficult."

Without a single appropriate response in his head, Nigel simply takes him by the chin and kisses him senseless. When he pulls away, Adam's already half-hard again and weak with desire.

"Sure thing, gorgeous."

*