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It’s all a little overwhelming. The expensive hotel room bursting with designer furnishings in bright colors and dizzying patterns. The lavish dinner laid out for the two of them, chilled glasses of wine, fruit in little crystal dishes that reflect the light from the sconces. The surprise of it all — the note in his shoe, the rendezvous. The simple fact of it: he, Robbe IJzermans, is on an extremely romantic overnight date with a boy.
Not just a boy, though. The boy. The most overwhelming aspect of all.
Sander.
His artist, his dream boy, humming the stupid steamboat song to himself as he slips out of his flowing robes and tosses them over the back of a chair, winking at Robbe when he catches him staring. Robbe had thought for a moment that Sander was going to keep the whole Sint thing going, but now that they’re in the room he seems to be done with it, leaning his staff in the corner and turning to smile at Robbe. He strikes Robbe as sweetly, impossibly beautiful; an angel in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, warm and lovely and luminous.
Robbe wants him so fucking much he could die.
“Come,” Sander says, tilting his head, and Robbe does, winding his arms around Sander’s shoulders and sighing with pleasure when Sander kisses him immediately, slow and deep and shivery-good.
He hadn’t known that it was possible to feel like this, before Sander — like he’s full, inside, of light maybe, honey-gold vibrancy pressing against his ribs from the inside, but also like he’s missing something vital, a terrible sense of being alone inside his body when Sander is right there and all Robbe wants is more, closer, please.
“Delicious,” Sander whispers against Robbe’s mouth, his lips curling into the wide grin that Robbe adores. “Let’s have dinner.”
“But Sander,” Robbe tries, far more interested in kissing than eating. “The big bed...”
“Your dinner’s going to get cold,” Sander says, tracing a fingertip down the side of Robbe’s neck, rubbing lightly at the jut of his collarbone. He licks his lips and kisses the corner of Robbe’s mouth. “You’ll still be hot in an hour, though.”
Robbe huffs a small sigh but acquiesces, sits down heavily in the chair Sander pulls out for him. He nibbles at his food — it’s good, but he’s too distracted to care — and answers Sander’s questions about his day and how his exam went. When he tells Sander about Milan checking to see who was playing at Sportpaleis tonight, and his own mild alarm that Sander might have been planning to take him to see Niels Destadsbader, Sander drops his fork on his plate and laughs, his eyes sparkling.
“I really fucking love you,” he says, and something inside Robbe goes irrevocably, gloriously nuclear.
“Come on,” he says, already tugging Sander out of his seat before he’s aware of rising from his own chair. He can’t wait any longer; doesn’t want to. “Dinner’s over. Please, Sander.”
“Yes,” Sander sighs against Robbe’s mouth, his tongue immediately tracing along Robbe’s upper lip, slick and sweetly teasing. “Anything you want, promise.”
“I want you to fuck me.” He hadn’t been sure he’d actually be able to get the words out but he does; likes the savory taste of them on his tongue in the beat of silence before Sander groans and licks them up, swallows them. Robbe kisses him back with every bit of the hunger he feels, sucking gently on Sander’s tongue when it slides into his mouth and relishing the way Sander’s hips jerk forward, his body instinctively seeking the friction that Robbe craves, too. “Sander?”
“Fuck,” Sander says, ducking his head to mouth messily at the underside of Robbe’s jaw as he slides his hands up under Robbe’s t-shirt, alternately petting at the small of his back and fisting his hands in the thin fabric, like he can’t quite make up his mind. “Are you sure? We can just—”
Robbe shakes his head, slides a hand between them to palm at the bulge in Sander’s jeans. “I’m sure.”
Sander shudders a little when Robbe squeezes his erection but he nods; trails sloppy, perfect kisses up Robbe’s neck, his ear, back around to Robbe’s mouth. They kiss and kiss and it’s so good but Robbe needs them both to be naked immediately, so he wriggles away enough to pull his own t-shirt over his head and drop it on the floor behind him. Sander ogles him shamelessly for a long moment, which makes Robbe blush, but it also makes his dick throb in his jeans, so he unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly, and the next thing he knows he’s flat on his back on the bed with Sander on top of him.
“So fucking gorgeous,” Sander says, his eyes fluttering closed as he kisses Robbe. Their lips slide together slowly, heat pooling low in Robbe’s stomach as Sander gets a hand inside Robbe’s jeans, curls it around his cock. His whole body shudders as he thrusts up into Sander’s grip, and he can feel Sander smile against his mouth.
Robbe could come like this, easily (has come like this, more than once, it would be embarrassing how quickly Sander can get him off if it wasn’t the most incredible thing in the world), but he wants more, wants to be closer, wants Sander naked for fuck’s sake, so he paws at Sander impatiently until finally Sander slides off him just long enough to shed his own clothes and drag Robbe’s jeans and boxer briefs down his legs.
And then, finally, Sander’s completely bare against him, smooth and creamy-tan and dizzyingly warm, even in the slightly-too-cool air of the suite. Robbe wants to touch and taste every gorgeous bit of him; kiss the thin skin behind his knees, tongue at his nipples, rub a thumb over the slit of Sander’s beautiful, rosy cock. Suck a mark into the delicious curve where his neck meets his shoulder. Scrape his teeth lightly over the thickest part of Sander’s thigh, just to see if he’ll laugh or shudder or wind his fingers into Robbe’s hair, maybe — if Sander will guide Robbe’s head further up so that he can feed his dick into Robbe’s hungry mouth.
Robbe wants all of that, but more than anything, he wants to feel Sander fully inside him, as close as they can physically get. He’s fingered himself plenty of times — especially lately; after he’d seen and touched Sander’s gorgeous dick, his sexual fantasies had taken on new dimensions — and when Sander blew him last night, he’d teased mercilessly at Robbe’s hole with slick fingertips, circling his rim and finally pressing one inside just as Robbe started to come. It had felt unbelievable. Physically, he’s definitely ready. More than ready.
And emotionally — fuck. He’s in love. What more could he possibly ask for?
Robbe kisses Sander’s cheek, the sharp edge of his jaw. “Did you bring anything?”
“I brought a lot of things,” Sander smirks, shifting his hips so that his erection rubs slickly against Robbe’s abs. “I brought clean socks,” Sander says, catching Robbe’s mouth in a kiss. “I brought cookies.” Another kiss, a little wetter, opening Robbe’s lips with his own. “I brought an extra toothbrush for you in case you didn’t bring one.” His tongue dips into Robbe’s mouth, rubs against the sensitive skin on the inside of Robbe’s upper lip. “I brought my phone charger.”
“Sander,” Robbe whines, sucking hungrily on Sander’s tongue when it slides back into his mouth. “Lube? Did you bring lube? Condoms?”
Without breaking their kiss, Sander rolls them over so that Robbe is on top, slips his hands down until both are palming Robbe’s ass. He squeezes the cheeks gently and pulls them apart a tiny bit, just enough for Robbe to feel the cool air against the thin, hot skin around his hole. “Ohhh, lube,” Sander says as Robbe gasps into his mouth. “Of course, lube. And condoms. Lots.”
“Good,” Robbe says, arching his back so he can grind down against Sander a little, just to try and take the edge off. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Wanna make you feel so good,” Sander croons, rolling them back over so that Robbe is belly-up on the bed. Sander crawls off him, keeping one hand spread on Robbe’s chest so that he doesn’t move while Sander leans over the edge of the bed and fishes in a bag he’s got on the floor. He drops a plastic bottle and a strip of several condoms on top of the blanket and smiles down at Robbe, strokes his cheek. “I’m so lucky.”
“Me too,” Robbe whispers, reaching for him, but Sander just grins and hooks his hands behind Robbe’s knees. Sander pushes Robbe’s legs up towards his chest and apart so he can lean down and suck wet, hot kisses around the base of Robbe’s cock. “Oh, fuck!”
Sander makes a soothing, sympathetic sound, but he also dips his head lower to tongue at Robbe’s balls, so the sweet murmurings don't do much to calm him. They need to focus on the goal here or Robbe‘s going to die, or come, or both. “Sander,” Robbe groans. “Please, the lube, I—”
Robbe can feel Sander’s smile against his thigh when he breaks away from Robbe’s now spit-slick balls and kisses him there. “It’s okay,” Sander promises, way too sweetly considering where his mouth has just been. “Let me give you your special present.”
Privately, Robbe thinks that the only present he really wants is Sander’s dick in him, but then his wonderful, terrible boyfriend pushes Robbe’s knees higher, surges forward, and drags his warm, wet tongue slowly over Robbe’s hole. “Fuck, fuck!”
Sander hums a little and keeps licking at Robbe, sometimes pointing his tongue to nudge at Robbe’s rim, and then relaxing it again so it’s soft and wide, rubbing in luxurious circles over and around Robbe’s entrance. It’s spine-shatteringly good and Robbe’s hands fly to Sander’s head, winding into his hair, holding him in place even though Sander shows no signs of planning to move away. In fact, Sander seems eager to stay where he is, kissing and sucking at the delicate skin so sweetly that it would be soothing if it wasn’t making Robbe’s erection twitch and leak onto his stomach.
Minutes pass with no sounds but Robbe’s labored breathing and occasional pleased-sounding little mmms from Sander. His mouth is wet and almost greedy when he starts to really lick into Robbe, sliding his hands down the back of Robbe’s thighs and grabbing his ass, adjusting his grip so he can pull Robbe’s cheeks further apart with both thumbs. When Robbe moans softly, Sander seems to take it as encouragement, and slides the tip of his tongue inside Robbe’s hole.
“Oh fuck, stopstopstop!” Pushing Sander away as gently but unmistakably as he can manage, Robbe grabs the base of his own dick and squeezes, clenches his jaw until he has his body at least somewhat under control. “Sorry,” he says tightly, slapping a hand over his eyes. “I was gonna come.”
Sander groans and bites at Robbe’s thigh, drags his swollen mouth over the sparse hair there. “You're so hot.”
“Then fuck me,” Robbe says, and it’s supposed to be flirty but it just comes out sounding desperate.
Either way, it does the job, because Sander groans again and pushes himself up onto his knees. The cap on the bottle of lube pops open and Robbe shivers as Sander coats his fingers. He’s still clutching the base of his dick with one hand — he will not come before Sander gets inside of him — but he pulls away the hand that’s covering his eyes so he can watch. Sander is all bright eyes and flushed cheeks and wet red mouth as he uses his dry hand to push Robbe’s leg aside. He strokes over Robbe’s hole with slippery fingers and then starts to dip one fingertip inside, biting his lip when Robbe takes it easily.
“Another,” Robbe says, shifting his hips on the bed.
Sander nods, his gaze glued to his finger disappearing into Robbe’s body, and nudges a second finger in beside it; pulls both fingers most of the way out before fumbling left-handed with the lube bottle so he can drizzle a bit more over his knuckles. Pushes in again about halfway, twists them slightly, spreads them apart a few millimeters. Licks his lips. “This okay?”
“Fucking great,” Robbe says, reaching down with his free hand to stroke Sander’s forearm. He can feel the tendons shift as Sander crooks his fingers inside Robbe, slides out a bit, presses back in deeper. The stretch isn’t too intense — it’s there, but not uncomfortable at all — so Robbe wriggles his hips until both fingers are completely buried inside him. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”
The little whine that Sander swallows down is the best sound Robbe’s ever heard. He wants to hear it again, ideally in his ear while Sander fucks him. And they’re so close. “One more and then please, baby.”
He’s never called anyone baby before. He thinks he likes it.
Sander tips forward and kisses Robbe desperately, his breathing ragged, two fingers still snug inside Robbe’s hole. “Love you,” he sighs against Robbe’s mouth.
Robbe’s heart might burst. He nods, kissing Sander back with everything he has, tiny little kisses on Sander’s plush lower lip turning into long, open wet kisses, soft moans of shared pleasure passing between their mouths. “Love you.”
The third finger takes some effort, but every part of Robbe’s body, muscles and nerves and rushing blood, all of it, seems to want Sander as much as he does, and there’s less resistance than Robbe had anticipated. Sander’s free hand is roaming, stroking and teasing all over Robbe’s thighs and abs and chest as he works him open with the other, massaging his way into Robbe’s hole, adding lube several times until all three of his long fingers can glide in easily. He pushes in deep, curls his fingers, and brushes a spot inside Robbe that makes him gasp, bright heat twisting low in his belly.
Sander groans and licks his lips, dips his head to kiss the tip of Robbe’s dick, drags his trembling mouth along Robbe’s stomach. “Fuck, I want you. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
There’s some shuffling around on the bed as they get into position — Sander wants to be able to see Robbe, but Robbe read that it’s easier from behind, so Sander kisses him thoroughly before Robbe rolls over onto his belly, pushing up onto his knees and spreading his legs. “Fuck,” Sander swears, grabbing Robbe’s ass and kissing the curve of each cheek. “Fucking beautiful.”
Robbe rests his forehead on his crossed arms, giddy and horny, a probably stupid-looking smile spreading across his face. “Five stars on booking?”
Sander laughs, rubbing his thumb over Robbe’s hole with yet more lube. “Ten stars. A thousand.”
And then, finally, it’s happening. Sander lines himself up and starts to press inside, holding himself with one hand and pulling Robbe open with the other. It’s a stretch, but it doesn’t hurt, and Robbe leans his weight on one elbow so he can reach back with the other arm to help hold himself open on the side Sander can’t grab. Sander groans long and low, his fingers tightening on Robbe’s ass as he presses his hips forward, sinking his dick further inside.
It feels unbelievable; it’s too much and it aches and Robbe wants more, this, forever. He moans into the mattress, arching his back and pushing up so that Sander slides in deeper.
“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander gasps, a little wild. “You’re so—”
“Yeah,” Robbe agrees. He wriggles his hips back again, so close to getting what he wants, what he desperately needs. “Don’t stop.”
“Wait, wait, don’t want to hurt you,” Sander says, inching nearly out and drizzling more lube over himself before dropping the bottle on the bed. He caresses Robbe’s hips and pushes in completely; one long, slow, deliciously tortuous slide, splitting Robbe open and making him whole. Robbe is full, overwhelmed, Sander in him and around him, leaning forward to kiss between Robbe’s shoulder blades with trembling lips.
It’s so good, so right, that Robbe cries out and bows his back and comes all over himself.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, but Sander doesn’t seem to mind judging by the way he whimpers into the back of Robbe’s neck. “I’m sorry, you can— you don’t have to stop—”
“Robbe,” Sander says, his voice soft and shocked. His cheek is damp and burning hot against Robbe’s skin as he shudders and comes, his arms clinging around Robbe’s waist, the hot throb of his dick unmistakable. He rolls his forehead back and forth and shivers, then groans, kisses Robbe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d last longer.”
“Lasted longer than me,” Robbe says, craning his neck to try and see Sander, plastered sweetly and sweatily to Robbe’s back. “I should’ve jerked off before I left home.”
“I did,” Sander chuckles. Robbe can feel his laugh from the inside. He loves it. Wishes they could stay this close forever, their bodies literally joined together. It would make school difficult, but much more interesting. “Didn’t help.” He kisses Robbe’s spine again. “Someone really was a very good boy this year.”
Sander begins to carefully ease out and Robbe can’t help but let out a small sound of disapproval, but Sander pets his ass soothingly as he withdraws and tosses the condom away. Robbe straightens up and turns around on his knees so he can finally see Sander properly, his heart melting at the sight of his ruffled hair and warm pink cheeks.
“Hi,” Robbe says, stupidly, and Sander smiles his dazzling smile and falls forward into Robbe’s arms, kissing him until they’re both breathless and Robbe’s dick is starting to perk up again. “We should do that again.”
“Whenever you want,” Sander promises, nuzzling their noses together. He kisses Robbe again, soft and sweet, the corners of his lips curving up in a smile.
“Mmm, I want now,” Robbe says, humming happily into their kiss.
Sander laughs, delighted. “Already?”
“Yeah,” Robbe says. He wraps his arms around Sander’s shoulders to pull him closer, then remembers the come drying on his chest in cold, sticky streaks. “Let me just go wash off.”
He climbs off the bed on unsteady legs and wobbles toward the bathroom, Sander hot on his heels. “Need a hand?”
“Sure,” Robbe says, wetting a cloth in the sink, but Sander scoffs and leans past him to turn on the shower. He adjusts the temperature until it’s steamy and tips his head toward the falling water.
“Come,” Sander says, taking Robbe’s hand.
And Robbe does.