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Time to Adjust

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Well, it was big.

Liam's pale eyes stared up at the ceiling: cool, calm, calculating (how much could he possibly stretch to accommodate???) and perhaps just a little strained. Cavo hovered over him, careful not to lean his weight on Liam's fragile human body as he studied his face.

"It's just the tip," said Cavo nervously.

"Oh, I know," said Liam. His voice was heavy with a type of significance Cavo couldn't quite read. "Just... give me a moment, Cavo."

"Should I go??"

"No," said Liam. His eyes flicked down his body, his skin slick with sweat even though they hadn't even started moving yet. He took a quick, shallow breath through his mouth and looked back at the ceiling.

"You look...uncomfortable," said Cavo.

Liam's entire face twitched before assembling into a peaceful mask. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I can take it." (and then, in a mutter: "Besides, I like pain.") Before Cavo could splutter out a concerned question, Liam gave him a broad, charming smile, and his lips only spasmed a tiny bit. "What about you, Cavo? Does it feel good?"


The truth was, it didn't feel as good as he'd thought it would. Cavo glanced down at their bodies, barely joined. Only the very tip of his cock was inside Liam — and really, it would be more accurate to say he was just resting at the entrance. Soft, warm human muscle, inviting and wet, but it wasn't enveloping him or squeezing him tight — it was just...kind of...kissing him.

But Cavo liked to be kissed, so did he mind? Not really.

"It's not good," said Liam flatly. The expression on his face was damaged: he looked like he might be considering just killing Cavo. Would he do that, just because Cavo was too big? No. It had to be a cover for mortification. Here he'd been boasting about how good he was, how much he could take, how much he liked it...

"We don't have to," Cavo decided, and he started to pull away, but with a flurry of movement, Liam snapped his legs tight around Cavo's hips and held him close.

"Go deeper," said Liam firmly, his jaw set.


"I can take it," Liam said. "Go deeper."

Cavo glanced down at his own cock, roughly the size of Liam's arm, then at Liam's hole, pretty and hairless, flushed pink, like a rose bud surrounded by pale white skin. It would be cruel to ruin that. To stretch it wider. To make it bleed, to tear at the muscle; right now Liam was relaxed, just a little strained from anticipation, but if Cavo shoved inside, his whole body would seize, his breaths turning to painful gasps, his muscles locking and his stomach quivering, tears squeezing from his eyes as he...

Cavo slammed his hips forward and missed Liam's hole entirely.

"Sorry," he said. He rotated his hips and re-positioned his cock at Liam's entrance. "I'll go slower this time."

Liam just made a strangled noise of assent, his face still carefully composed in a faux-disinterested mask. He rested one long-fingered hand against his temple, his face half-shielded — but Cavo could see him secretly watching out of the corner of his eye, his gaze fixed on Cavo's cock as he eased forward.

As Liam's body stretched.

As he sank into that tight wet heat, so incredibly soft, like velvet against his skin — the best feeling he'd ever had in the world. Every touch woke up nerves he'd never known existed, and it wasn't just a gentle fleeting touch, and it wasn't just on one portion of his cock at a time: it was everywhere, squeezing him tight, surrounding him, until his entire body loosened and flushed and he almost collapsed on top of Liam and crushed him to the mattress.

"Cavo..." Liam said, his voice strained.

Cavo blinked. Liam's eyes were tightly shut, his lips bared in a grimace of pain. His back arched, and a sizzle of electricity shot up Cavo's spine as the warm passage around his cock shifted a little, and below him, Liam grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

"Relax," Cavo said, his voice shaky.

"Relax? You're giving me advice now?" If Cavo's voice was shaky, then Liam's was broken: thin and reedy and almost childish. He opened his eyes just a little, and there was a gleam of wetness there, and a pretty pink flush across his cheeks. "I've done this a thousand times, Cavo. You don't need to guide me through it."

"Are you sure?" Cavo shifted his hips a little, and with an undignified squeak, Liam yanked the sheets toward him and covered his face. "It doesn't hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt," said Liam weakly. He shivered, and his muscles tightened around Cavo's cock, and suddenly Cavo was weak too. "It's just...big."

"Well, you're..." Unconsciously, Cavo leaned into the heat. He didn't mean to move — really, he didn't — but his hips rolled forward against his will, his cock enveloped by that silky warmth, every inch of him screaming to move forward, to push deeper, to feel the wet slide of muscle against the tip of his cock, that head-rush of a kiss on all sides, everywhere and all at once. Beneath him, Liam let out a high-pitched noise, cut off in the back of his throat — something between a cry and a whimper — and his body spasmed, and suddenly that wet heat was so much tighter, so much better, that Cavo flinched away — and Liam relaxed, his grip on the sheets slipping, his face revealed: hooded eyes and flushed cheeks and parted lips — and just as quick, and just as involuntary, Cavo slammed his hips forward again.

Harder. Deeper. The entirety of his long, thick shaft buried in Liam's body, a body almost too small to accommodate it. Now all of Liam's attempts to hide fell apart. His legs fell wide open, each one bent at the knee to make room for Cavo, a position so unabashedly rude, so unshy, that it sent a rush of blood to Cavo's head. Liam's body was laid out before him, his face no longer covered by the sheets: his thighs trembling, his skin hot to the touch. Tears rolled freely from the corners of his eyes, leaving dark streaks  of salt on his temples and in his hair; between his parted lips, his tongue was visible, a lush wet red as he panted for breath.

And Cavo had never seen him like this before: off-kilter, struggling to adapt, needy and desperate and weak. He was trembling too hard to lean into Cavo's touch, to move his body; he was as limp and helpless beneath Cavo as a child. And it was that thought that turned the churning in Cavo's gut to something different: something warm and loose that coiled in his stomach and sent a wave of calm through his body, a type of understanding that flushed him with a cold wash of relief.

He was so much bigger — so much stronger — that Liam was defenseless against him. So the only option for Cavo...

...was to care for him, to protect him, to keep him safe even when he thought he wanted it rough, when he thought he could handle it.

To help him adapt. To make it feel good for both of them.

So Cavo leaned forward, not moving his hips, ignoring the soft heat all around him — and he kissed Liam, gentle and slow, until the trembling stopped — until Liam's body had relaxed a little and the tears of pain and stress had dried — and even then he kept kissing him: on his lips, on his neck, on his chest, on his nipples, until Liam's breathing was even and steady, and then Cavo pressed his lips against Liam's cheek and kissed the last heated remnants of an embarrassed blush away.

"It's alright," Cavo said — practically a purr. "I've got you."

And Liam closed his eyes and surrendered to Cavo's touch.