Cole was not in the lead, and it was slightly thrilling to not be in the lead. He wanted Dominicus to lead them back to his room (fate favour him, not Dominicus’ room, that was for sure), but he didn’t want to get in front and look like he was in a rush. He could, of course, try to stop Dominicus – or at least hold him up – but he knew in that very point of his gut that if he tried, Dominicus would resist, and if he resisted, then they would fight, and if they fought, Cole would lay down right there and let Dominicus fuck him. It would be untoward.
It had its appeal. But a little extra walking to wherever it was Dominicus thought they would be sufficiently concealed and they could skip straight to the end.
It turned out to be not that far to walk: there was, outside the library, a set of well shaded half-porches, or porticos, many of which had been shut as the collection expanded, leaving a series of well concealed and nigh-abandoned leafy and enclosed but spacious nooks. At the edge of the second, Dominicus turned, and Cole, facing him as he passed, dodged his outstretched hand to back into the shaded stone corner. Dominicus pivoted just as quickly to follow and was there the moment Cole’s back hit the wall, pressing against him.
There was always a pause, a calculating moment, though – as Dominicus decided how, this time, they would kiss.
He was getting better. He liked to practice. Cole liked to be practiced on. This time, Dominicus pressed forward, then softened; he waited, and when Cole’s lips parted, pushed, but their tongues met gently between them.
Fuck, he was getting good.
For Dominicus, it was in part that he understood kissing much better than he understood anything else about what was going on between them. Well – there were some things Dominicus obviously didn’t need to understand very deeply – but kissing seemed a great deal clearer, cleaner – worth thousand stuttered words and questions. Especially in a stupid language like Ainjir.
Or course, sometimes Cole made Ainjir sound… well.
Everything grew hot and confused – absolutely everything, even the deep things, that had nothing to do with his gut or his skin or his… also, well. And it really wasn’t hard to understand, that was a lie he told himself and let himself tell. The feeling was pure and obvious and he was starting to feel he couldn’t face it, and if he thought about it, it was worse. So he kissed.
Dominicus kissed, and when Cole felt the moment change (he was good at feeling the moment change), he brought his hands, which had been pressed against the wall behind him, forward to Dominicus’ hips. He was right, of course, and he felt the little puff of breath in their kiss as he first stroked, then gently pulled Dominicus’ hips against his.
It was fast (and it always seemed fast) that they were ready, but it took time – it took convincing to be certain. His hands roamed up the coat, then down, then just under the edge, feeling the shirt and under the shirt Dominicus’ skin, and then lower on the way down, pulling him forward – and so he worked, slowly.
Dominicus’ hand touched Cole’s neck, and then brushed under his jaw, the perfect guide to the kiss without seeming to hold him, to force him. His other hand moved from the wall to Cole’s hip, where it rested, then fiercely squeezed. And then Cole felt the slightest turn in the pressure – Dominicus’ hips ground Cole’s back into the wall, and the hand on his hip pushed down.
Cole reached up and broke the kiss, opening his eyes to watch the total absorption on Dominicus’ face break as well – he always looked a little mad about it, and Cole always seemed to grin into that anger. Cole kept a grip on Dominicus’ wrist by his face, and moved his other hand to press against the front of Dominicus’ pants.
They were always ready fast.
And – at least when he had done it right – Dominicus always seemed to fall for moment. Cole knew he could start unbuttoning not because he felt magnificent stiffness (he did), but because Dominicus seemed not to push but to lean into him. He moved his kiss to Cole’s neck, every bit as pressing, as demanding, but somehow also wanting. Dominicus wasn’t the only one stiff, but it was shocking, chilling in the best way, every time to Cole that there was this… not need, not just wanting, but something like an asking.
Cole could fuck a dozen cadets before he found one he would even think of letting fuck him. He was good at both, and being good at both, he knew what he wanted from it. It was… slightly amazing that it was this. He was pretty sure – he should probably just say absolutely certain that Dominicus Galen had never fucked anybody in any fashion before meeting him. And while he would have loved – was even naturally inclined – to think he had simply raised up the lover he wanted in an inexperienced and, in the strangest way, slightly naïve fellow cadet, Cole also knew that it wasn’t his own doing – or all his doing – that made him so want what Dominicus gave.
But oh, he wanted it.
Cole’s hand on Dominicus’ cock was a tease and an invitation, and Dominicus, never quite certain he should really listen, absolutely did listen. His hands were on Cole’s body, first, because it was his body, and then, once he had a little bit more of a grip on his thoughts, unbuttoning Cole’s jacket, pushing aside fabric, searching…
Because if Cole had wanted to suck Dominicus’ cock, he would have done it (out of the pair of them, only Cole did that – Dominicus wasn’t there yet but it was an ever more distinct image in his mind. He thought he could be really good at that).
If Cole wanted just touch, they would have fought – fought and jerked each other off at the end. For some reason that was always how that worked out. It was, if either thought about it, truly weird.
Cole always darkly hinted there were other things, but if Cole had wanted something other than this, he wouldn’t have come to the library with this little vial in a pocket cleverly tailored to be hidden in his coat.
Cole saw him find it and laughed, hand below squeezing harder while the other pulled Dominicus by the back of his neck into another kiss. Then both his hands disappeared (they still kissed – Dominicus was loath to give up a kiss) and Cole was unbuttoning his own pants.
Dominicus wanted him naked. He forced Cole to stop by yanking his jacket down. Cole turned, once the jacket was off, and together they pulled his shirt up and over his head, but before he let it drop to the ground, Dominicus bunched the material tight in his hands. Cole was facing the wall now, hands pinned in front and slightly to the side as Dominicus twisted the tough material of the shirt. He used the bundle first to pull Cole’s body close to his – they had been apart long enough – then pushed him forward again, grip on Cole’s shirt easing.
Dominicus liked the stone; Cole liked the way Dominicus fucked him, but the stone would royally fuck up his face, which was going a bit too far, so this was just a little indulgence of sensation.
Ripping free an arm, Cole braced with his forearm against the wall, his other hand finishing the job of unbuttoning his pants. Dominicus took the vial with his teeth, freeing both hands to sweep over Cole’s back – Dominicus could bend him over. He felt the pliability in the way Cole moved his body, but he didn’t want Cole to be that far away. He wanted to be warm. He wanted to be near. He wanted to hold Cole’s body as he joined it.
So he took the still-stoppered vial out his mouth, used both hands against Cole’s hips to draw him back, away from the wall, meeting Dominicus where he stood, then pushed them both forward, like a bellows spewing breath, until Cole stopped him, standing firm. Both Cole’s forearms rested against the rough stone wall, hands bunched into fists, his face close enough to easily rest his forehead against it, too. Dominicus pressed against his back, rested his forearm just outside of Cole’s, vial gripped tight in his hand. His other pulled Cole’s hips back, so Dominicus felt himself, hard and full against Cole’s ass.
He kissed just under Cole’s ear, and Cole blew out a strained breath.
“Fuck.”
Well, yes.
Dominicus retrieved the bottle with his free hand, but brought the stopper up to Cole’s lips. Cole laughed and pushed back against him, and Dominicus pushed back, Cole’s forearms shifting down against the stone as he did.
“Ah,” Cole breathed, “do it.”
But the command was his to give; Cole bent slightly to grab the tiny stopper in his teeth, and Dominicus pulled down to yank the vial open. He had to withdraw slightly, use both hands to do this right – Cole was particular. Dominicus supposed he would be particular, too, if it came to it (would it come to it? That was much less distinct an image than maybe one day using his mouth on Cole). For all of the urgent noises Cole was making, Dominicus had to go a little slowly. So he did. He oiled himself, and – using great restraint, he thought, given the kinds of sounds Cole started to make – oiled Cole.
“Fuck!” Cole said again, once he had spit out the stopper. The best Dominicus could manage was to make sure the bottle fell somewhere soft-looking.
Careful to line up, he pushed himself into Cole gingerly, until he felt Cole push back, a breath shuddering out as Dominicus’ hips stopped against his back. Dominicus pulled back, slowly, once.
Cole moaned. ‘Slowly’ went away.
This was the part he didn’t have to think about. It felt so good – he pushed forward, drove his hips upward, drove his cock in until Cole’s body stopped him. The sound – the sound – it was not fully a moan, but it was something full of breath, and Cole gasped at the end, drawing in as Dominicus drew out.
Dominicus, though, was not in a rush. He loved the feeling, and he knew Cole loved the feeling. Cole unravelled over him, pushing down, drawing Dominicus’ body against his, moving himself to try to draw Dominicus on to fuck him harder. But Dominicus was not in a rush.
Now that they had begun, Dominicus leaned forward, pressing his chest to Cole’s back, hands braced against the wall on either side of Cole’s forearms. He grabbed both of Cole’s hands – their fingers intertwined – and pushing his upper body against the wall, thrust his cock up into him again.
It was almost a whimper, if Cole could ever be said to whimper, and Cole forced a breath out between his teeth as he pushed back into Dominicus, away from the wall, just so Dominicus would do it again.
Dominicus obliged.
Cole was not, at the moment, thinking, but he would think, later, that it was so strange how Dominicus never seemed to hurry, never seemed to let the urge to come get the better of him, but was, every inch, deliberate in his fucking. Nor could Cole rush him – he thought sometimes, that if he begged, Dominicus would still not do anything at a pace that was not pleasurable. Which was not to say that they lasted long – they never lasted long. Honestly, it was more about frequency than endurance, which was also something that made Cole marvel. He had been rather proud of his endurance, but at this moment, he didn’t fucking care.
Domincus might not rush but he did falter, his pace a little ungainly as the urge to come caught up him. This was when Cole was pitiless; he forced his body down, rocking into Domincus as his trusts became shorter, burying his cock deep, and he came.
There was a pause of only a moment, Dominicus’ breath heavy on his shoulder, until Dominicus dropped a hand down. Cole helped guide it to grip his own cock; Dominicus was willing, but still somewhat… shy. Rather than annoyed, Cole was happy to guide; he liked the way Dominicus responded, the way he fit as Cole told him to fit, hand just the right amount of tight. And he liked the way that despite this malleability, it was still definitely Dominicus’ hand around him: his calluses, his rough spots, his soft inner palm.
His hand held the outside of Dominicus’ and they pumped together, before Dominicus’ cock grew soft. He pulled away one it did, but only as much as was absolutely necessary, pressing again into Cole’s back, body covering body. His lips rested against Cole’s shoulder, letting him feel the slight chill of his steadying breath, and Cole knew that he was watching – he was always watching.
Cole let his head fall back against Dominicus, felt Dominicus’ lips on his neck – a soft touch, just lightly grazing skin with the edge of his teeth, and Cole felt his gut abruptly tighten, a gasp forced out of his throat. Then he was leaning forward again, forward against the wall, and not long after, coming against the wall.
Dominicus let go, but his hand didn’t go far, straying up to Cole’s hip, moving slowly forward against his stomach. They were both, instantly, so tired; not for the first time, Cole’s chest strung with a fraught and painful wish that they could sleep together – wake up, do it again, sleep again, however long they wished. It was… unusual.
But they didn’t have time, and Dominicus had yet to admit to any such inclination. Maybe he didn’t feel it. Maybe it was the sort of silly fantasy a good fuck could bring about, which was something Cole had long thought he had grown immune to. Maybe he just hadn’t had a really good fuck in a really long time.
Cole freed himself enough to turn in Dominicus’ grip to face him, grinning. He watched Dominicus watch his body move, refusing to give any but the least possible space to it. Eyes and hands travelled up, lightly brushing Cole’s skin in their survey.
Dominicus…wasn’t thinking very much. He didn’t know what to think. Like his slowing heartbeat, he felt little pangs of fatigue hit him like warm water each time he blinked. He was looking at Cole’s collarbone, moving up to his face, thinking about what it might be like to actually go to bed with him instead fucking all around the campus like rabbits. He was thinking about what it might be like to wake up with him, when he caught sight of Cole’s lips and leaned forward to start kissing him again.
A few long moments later, in a break for breath, Cole said, “You know, usually you do this part first.”
“I did. Shall I stop doing it now, then?” Dominicus asked, throwing a challenging look back at that grinning face.
“Only because I’m cold,” Cole said. “You’ve still got most of your clothes on, at least.”
Dominicus grunted, but didn’t move back to let Cole gather his clothes – he leaned closer, arms resting against the wall on either side of Cole’s head. After all, Cole was right – he was warm.
This close – and it was hard to be this close, Dominicus could see something like a flash of… maybe delight? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure how to read many Ainjir, though he was getting better – much, much better, in the case of Cole. Cole buried things he felt; he didn’t seem like the type of person who buried things because he was all too free with expression and humour and even sometimes displeasure, but there were things buried in there he didn’t seem keen to let anyone know he felt. So Dominicus saw the flash of delight in his eyes, and resisted the urge to push forward again, because it was Cole’s decision whether to act on it or not. He buried things for a reason, it was his business to bring them out.
“Are you offering to warm me up again? So soon?” Cole asked sardonically, and honestly kind of ruining it.
Dominicus had wanted to dig at that sincerity he saw, even if he knew it wasn’t his place. But, then, when he thought about it, he didn’t want anyone digging at his sincerity. He didn’t want to deal with sincerity. Now that he was thinking about sincerity, in this particular situation, it was making him anxious. So he pulled on arm off the wall, to get out of Cole’s way, and then fell back against the other wall to fix his own clothes as Cole pulled up his pants and picked up his jacket and shirt. Watching Cole move was a much better use of his still-fatigue-slowed thoughts. And then Cole paused before he threw his shirt on, brushing some of the places where the stone of the wall had left soft imprints on his back.
Dominicus would have done that for him. And then, yes, they would have warmed him up again, very soon.
“Come with me to the ghost-thing tonight,” Dominicus said.
Cole turned to look at him. His expression was devastatingly inscrutable – far, far too hard for so casual a question, but it lasted only a fraction of a second.
One day, Dominicus would break him in that second, and that wall would not go up again. He felt it with a hunger equally inscrutable, even to himself.
It was only a moment, and it passed, and Dominicus briefly was aware of how stupid he felt asking.
“And be like those perfect idiots?” To Dominicus’ surprise, Cole smiled and shrugged, putting his shirt back on. “All right.”
And like a perfect idiot, Dominicus smiled back; he couldn’t help it.