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On the fourth day, after spending the day hunched over his laptop at the coffee table, Lysandre emerged from his dreamless sleep to find himself tangled in Augustine's embrace, the hard, heavy line of his cock pressed between his thighs.
Lysandre harbored very few illusions about his size. He'd gone through an alarming growth spurt during puberty, switching from short and soft like a litleo to lanky and starving like a juvenile pyroar that's just evolved. He still remembered the look on Malva's face when they'd seen each other at the family reunion that followed: she'd looked downright offended that he'd dared to gain at least twenty centimeters on her with no prior warning. He'd apologized to her, inexplicably, and she'd called him "electric pole" the whole time, which made no sense.
Of course, experiencing the magnitude of his size from the inside was very much different from experiencing it from the outside, especially in Augustine's body. He was intimately aware that he was well-endowed – proportional was his preferred euphemism for it, which said all that you needed to know – but feeling its weight against him like this was a very different beast. In all senses of the word.
Augustine groaned, hips hitching forward slightly, his breath hot over Lysandre's forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible, let out a groan, and then froze.
"Huh," he said. His hand slid up Lysandre's hip, stopping to rest on his waist. "Your dick's hard."
"Technically," Lysandre huffed out, looking up at his own face in the dark, "it's yours right now."
There really was nothing stranger than seeing Augustine's self-satisfied smile on his face. It felt out of place in the worst way.
"Technically, it's always been mine," he said. Lysandre resisted the urge to roll his eyes while Augustine readjusted himself, his hand now holding on to the small of his back. "Fuck, your cock is huge."
Similarly, hearing himself swear so casually did not get any easier no matter how many times it had already happened.
"You're saying that like it's a novelty. Even ignoring our current situation, I'd think you'd be very well acquainted with my..." He wasn't sure he could handle hearing Augustine's voice say the word right now. "Penis."
Augustine snorted, pushing his face down on the pillows. "Having your fat cock in me and on me is completely different, newsflash. If this is how morning wood feels I'm afraid to know how bad it gets when you're fully aroused."
"If you wait, it'll go down," Lysandre mumbled. "My body's used to not reaching release, as I'm sure you're aware–"
"Hey." Augustine shifted against him again, speaking low and hoarse. His hand – Lysandre's hand, his large palm burning hot – moved to touch the soft skin of Augustine's neck, which felt even more fragile in comparison. Lysandre swallowed down his next words. "Can I kiss you?"
"Prof– Augustine," Lysandre stammered. He could almost feel Augustine's – his – cock pulsing against his leg even through the fabric of the slacks he'd made him wear to bed. It was slowly but steadily growing damp. "This is– preposterous."
"I forgot how wet you get, Arceus," Augustine moaned. The bed frame cracked under him when he repositioned himself so his erection was no longer resting on Lysandre. "Look, this isn't going to get less weird. We might as well make the most of it."
Lysandre clenched his jaw and then released it. "If it's just kissing," he relented, and instantly Augustine was tilting his face up with his hand – which was larger than said face, Arceus, how did he never think about it from his perspective–
This was nothing like how they kissed usually, and yet it was strikingly similar: Augustine took charge, the tips of his fingers pressing into the back of Lysandre's neck, his thumb rubbing the side of his chin where he'd let the stubble grow thicker with every passing day. The inside of his mouth was scorching, his tongue warming up Lysandre's in mere seconds, and it was all he could do not to whine and jerk against him, the sound of Augustine's voice broken and desperate causing his arousal to climb up his spine like he'd been struck.
"Oh, I'm so fucking hard," Augustine groaned against him, their teeth clicking when he pulled away. He moaned, panting in Lysandre's ear. "Fuck, I just realized I can make you say whatever I want. My fat cock is so fucking hard and wet." He threw his head back and Lysandre felt the tip of his cock grind up the side of his thigh. "I feel like I could come just thinking about the fact that I'm inside you right now."
Lysandre was trying his hardest to ignore his arousal, though he could feel his – Augustine's – cock stiffen inside his boxers. His breath hitched when Augustine grabbed his waist, his fingers curling all the way around with room to spare. They both groaned at that.
"Arceus, you're so small," Augustine whined, squeezing him a little harder, causing Lysandre's heart and cock to jump in unison. "I'm so small. Starting to understand why you've got a thing for my ankles now."
"I don't–" Lysandre started to protest, but then he stopped. There was no point in denying it.
"Kiss me again," Augustine said, not a question or a request. His grip tightened as he pressed their mouths together, forcing Lysandre to tilt his head further back, crushed under the powerful body he was no longer in control of. Every brush of Augustine's lips or tongue against his left him more frantic, dizzy with the feeling of being overpowered in ways he couldn't achieve normally.
One of Augustine's – Lysandre's – he could barely tell which one they were anymore – hands slid down to cup his cock and balls, letting them rest in his ridiculously large palm, and Lysandre's hips bucked involuntarily.
"Can't believe it only took four days and our cock being hard for you to crack," Augustine said in his ear, his voice wet with their combined spit. "Monsieur You Can't Shower Because You'll See My Dick."
Lysandre growled. "Shut up."
He palmed at Augustine's torso, sliding his hands down over his abdominal muscles, so different from the body he was currently in. Augustine sighed. He kissed Lysandre behind the ear, his beard scraping the side of his neck.
"Touch my cock," he murmured before kissing him again on the jaw. He moaned at the sound of Lysandre's voice saying the words, and Lysandre gritted his teeth. "I want to come feeling how small my hand is around it, please–"
The front of his boxers was drenched, his bulge obscene, and when Lysandre pulled it down Augustine keened, his whole body tensing. Lysandre closed his eyes and grabbed his own cock around the head, stroking where he knew would be the most pleasurable, trying not to grind on the mattress under him. He didn't want to think about how warm the cock in his hand was, how huge it felt as it throbbed under his fingers, how strange and decadent what they were doing was.
"Oh, this fat fucking cock," Augustine groaned, his voice – Lysandre's voice – loud and desperate, thrusting into Lysandre's touch. "So fucking big. Fuck, how do you even– Lysandre, I'm– My big cock is going to come–"
Lysandre pushed his thumb hard on his drooling slit and Augustine came with a booming growl, crying out as his orgasm burst and more spurts of thick come rushed out, dripping over Lysandre's hand and the bed sheets. When he felt his body go slack, Lysandre buried his face in the pillow and humped the bed like a poorly trained dog pokémon until he, too, came in his boxers with a muffled cry.
He shuddered when Augustine took his semen-covered hand and brought it to his mouth to lick it clean, big tongue sliding between his fingers. "Professor," he grumbled, "what are we doing?"
"Making the most of it," Augustine replied, lapping at his palm. "Arceus, that was exhausting. I'm starting to understand why you're always like that in bed."
Lysandre mumbled something he wasn't entirely sure of, burying his face further down in the pillows. If they truly were going to be stuck like this for months, he was beginning to think they might not survive it.