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The speed at which Varka gets worked up at beneath Flins’ kisses and butterfly touches is honestly a little humiliating. Every kiss that Flins stamps against his lips is intoxicating and Varka will happily drown in them. Whenever those strong, deft and gloved hands slide down his body or curl around his waist or that cool and slick tongue slides into his mouth, his dick gives a valiant jerk in his pants.
Although Flins’ touch is tender, there’s still a firmness to it, a hunger that Varka is starting to match as the flames are stoked. His fingers tangle into Flins’ soft hair, tugging him closer as his own hips jerk up, grinding their bodies together.
The friction is delicious, and it makes Varka’s head spin. Sparks skitter down his spine as they follow the path that Flins’ hand takes, swallowing down the pitiful whine that threatens to crawl up his throat when another hand settles at his waist. Varka didn’t know how sensitive he was there until just now.
As the first hand slides further down to give Varka’s ass a playful squeeze, he can feel the hard length of Flins pressing against his own thigh and swears he feels some sort of wet heat too, where his own cock is nestled. Fingertips dance against his abdomen, barely brushing his waistband and Varka nearly vibrates out of his skin.
“Please,” Varka manages to gasp out, dangerously close to begging. Flins loops his arms further around Varka’s neck, tugging him down closer.
“Varka, I need to tell you about something first.” Flins murmurs against his mouth.
“Mm?” Varka mumbles, tilting his head to kiss Flins again. He pouts when Flins slips two fingers between their lips, pushing him back with a fond smile.
“Varka, my hurricane, listen to me for a moment?” Flins asks.
He’s so pretty.
Varka nods. His head is still a little fuzzy from their kisses and he’s definitely hot, throbbing and fully erect in his pants.
“I… well, as a fae, we do not conform to humans’ expectations of gender. In particular, I am intersex, which in my case, means I have both male and female genitalia.” Flins shifts beneath Varka, averting his gaze away from curious storm-blue. Varka can feel the way Flins flexes his fingers where they’re clasped at the back of his neck.
“I… understand if this is a deal-breaker to you.” Flins continues quietly, still refusing to meet Varka’s eyes. “I apologize for keeping quiet about it.”
Varka’s head spins, arousal coursing through his veins with the force of a tsunami he’s surprised he doesn’t drown with it.
“What’s more comfortable for you?” Varka manages to ask, bracketing Flins’ head with his elbows. Flins blinks rapidly, clearly startled, eyes flicking up to meet Varka’s.
“I- pardon?”
“I- uh-” Varka flushes, swallowing thickly. His throat bobs. Flins’ eyes drop to watch the movement, going half-lidded. “If… we were to go farther,” Varka tries, awkwardly and stilted, “do you have a preference? Y’know. Receiving? Giving? Uh, if receiving, then… where… do you prefer to… uh, receive it?” He cringes at his awkward wording, but Flins’ lips quirk up into a small but gorgeous smile.
“I prefer receiving,” Flins purrs, arching up into Varka’s body. Varka almost chokes on his tongue at the sensation. “Either way, I believe you will need to thoroughly prepare me if I am to take someone of your size.” He emphasizes it with a roll of his hips and Varka’s cock twitches so violently he’s afraid he’s going to come in his pants.
“Great,” Varka croaks, dropping to his elbows and burying his face into the crook of Flins’ neck. “Perfect. Shit. You’re going to be the death of me.”
Flins hums, brushing his mouth against Varka’s temple, hands skimming down to the small of Varka’s back, where he interlocks his fingers and gently presses, encouraging a gentle rocking of their hips.
The friction is incredible, and Varka can’t bite back the needy noise, mouthing and nipping at Flins’ throat and jaw. He gathers enough courage to start grinding down, trailing a hand down Flins’ lithe form, groaning low and deep when the fae parts his legs further to invite Varka’s much broader body against him.
It doesn’t take much longer before Varka is teetering on the edge of an orgasm. He can feel it building, the tightening in his gut and he fumbles to undo the fastenings on his pants.
“Close?” Flins asks against Varka’s mouth.
“Mm,” Varka gasps. Deft fingers knock his own to the side, Flins’ other hand rapidly undoing the buttons of Varka’s shirt.
“Hold tight.”
A startled noise escapes Varka’s mouth when his world flips, Flins now straddling his waist. Flins’ own pants have been unfastened and Varka’s eyes drop to the visible wetness clinging to the shape of Flins’ cock.
His own cock strains, stretching the material of his underwear now that his pants are out of the way. His shirt falls open, exposing him to the cool air of the bedroom, and Varka feels both excited and nervous.
He knows he’s attractive. He knows he has a good body; he’s worked damn hard for it. But this is also Flins, someone he’s been pining after for ages. Flins’ skin is unblemished and smooth, where Varka’s covered in scars and uneven bumps where muscle and ligament healed strangely.
“Gorgeous.” Flins murmurs, soft and reverent as he traces gloved fingertips over Varka’s chest. They ghost over his sensitive sides, trailing back up his abdomen before swirling around his peaked nipples. Varka arches into the touch with a groan, hands coming up to grasp Flins’ hips and thrusts up in a rough grind.
Flins’ lashes flutter, head tilting back briefly, lips parting as Varka speeds up. Fingers dig into Varka’s pecs, before dragging down his abdomen, pressing into his waist. Varka feels himself pulse, spurting more pre-cum in his already ruined underwear.
With shaky fingers, Varka dips his hand past Flins’ waistband, drawing himself out with his other hand and draws the Flins closer. Flins curls his hands around the back of Varka’s neck and draws him into a hungry kiss, sharp teeth nipping at his lower lip.
Despite Flins running cooler than most, his cock is a silken heat against Varka’s. His head spins when he realizes their size difference, flattening his hand to press both of their lengths against the valley of his abs, grinding his hips up.
Flins responds with sharp teeth digging into the crook of Varka’s neck, though not pressing hard enough to break skin. It draws a sharp inhale from Varka’s throat and his orgasm slams into him with the impact of a freight train.
“Keep going,” Varka insists, words slurring together as Flins makes a move to pull away. He curls his fingers tighter, presses his palm down harder, a low groan pulling from his throat as Flins plants one hand by Varka’s head, the other coming up to cup his cheek.
“Are you sure?” Flins murmurs. Varka nods, tilting his head up to capture Flins’ mouth in a sloppy kiss.
Oversensitivity lights up every nerve ending in Varka’s body as Flins starts up a smooth roll of his hips, cock slicking through the mess left smeared on Varka’s stomach. The sound is, frankly, obscene, and Varka’s ears burn.
Embarrassingly, Varka can feel himself getting hard again, eyes fluttering shut as his body wars with pleasure-plain and too much.
“Flins,” Varka chokes out, feeling a second orgasm starting to build in his stomach.
“My dear Varka,” Flins purrs, nudging their noses together. “Let yourself go. I’m here to catch you.”
Varka lets out a guttural noise when Flins’s bare fingers - when did he take his gloves off? - pinch and roll his nipples. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his second orgasm crashes over him, leaving him light-headed and dizzy.
It doesn’t take much longer before Flins reaches his peak, coming with a soft noise and an even softer kiss. Varka drowsily lifts his clean hand and tangles his fingers into Flins’ soft hair, letting out a soft hum of contentment.
“How are you feeling?” Flins asks. Varka only manages a noise in return and he feels Flins’ lips curl up into a fond smile. “Let me get you some water and a towel to clean you up.”
Before Flins can pull away, Varka grunts in protest, locking his arm to prevent Flins from moving away.
“Stay,” Varka protests.
“I’ll stay if you let me clean you up, first.” Flins huffs, soft and amused. Varka doesn’t open his eyes, face scrunching up in protest, but he loosens his grip and gets a soft kiss pressed to his forehead as a reward. “Good puppy.”
A shudder runs down Varka’s body, breath hitching and in his post-orgasm daze, he thinks he feels himself twitch.
“Hmm,” Flins muses, cool fingers drawing through Varka’s sweat-damp hair, “I must keep this in mind for the future.”