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“You should fuck me,” Heng blurted out. They had been dating for days now, and Mo hadn't tried making a move on him once. It was driving him crazy.
“Should I?” Mo said calmly.
“I mean- that’s what gay guys do, right? When they’re... together?”
Mo gave Heng a look that he often gave him, the one that meant he was being frustrating, ridiculous, or some combination of the two. “You know, if you want to do something, we can just jerk each other off. We don’t have to do anything right now, and we don’t have to do it just because we’re ‘gay guys.’ In fact, we don’t have to do it ever.”
Heng cringed. This was not going as planned. “Yeah, but I, um. I took a shower and stuff earlier, so.”
”Oh, I see now,” Mo said, and raised his eyebrows. “So you want me to fuck you. Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Well, now you know. So we can do it.”
“Hm,” Mo said.
“Please, Mo.” Heng reached out for him, and grabbed his hand. How were you supposed to ask for sex, anyway? It wasn't like he was a virgin or anything, but in the past, when he’d slept with girls, they’d always just gone for it—nothing on Heng’s part required. He had hoped Mo would be the same way. Talking about it was so mortifying.
Thankfully Mo didn’t say anything else, for the moment. He leaned in, and then they were kissing. That was good. Kissing was great. Heng loved kissing. Of all the kisses he’d had in his life, kisses from Mo were his favorite. His lips were so plush, so talented. Heng didn’t have to do anything when Mo kissed him; he could simply sit back and let himself be devoured. After a moment Mo swung himself up to straddle Heng’s lap, and started to move his hands over his body. First they smoothed down Heng’s sides, and Heng focused on not letting it tickle. Mo rubbed Heng’s nipples over his sweatshirt, and Heng let out an embarrassing squeak.
“Hmm,” Mo said again, though he moved his hands down. Next he grabbed the meat of Heng’s hips, roughly digging in his fingers. “Look at this,” he said, lowly, almost as if to himself. “You’re so narrow here. How am I going to fit between your legs?”
Heng shivered, the feeling traveling all the way up his spine. He had wondered the same thing in the shower earlier, although he'd thought it as he had teased his hole with his fingers. He hadn’t even gone inside, and still he was so aware of the tightness there, the smallness. He looked down at Mo’s lap, at where his half-hard dick was rubbing at Heng’s own.
“Mo,” he said. “Should we- should we take our clothes off?”
Mo let go, and scooted off of his lap. “Go ahead.”
He sat and watched Heng undress, without making any move to do so himself. Mo had seen him naked before, obviously, but Heng’s insides quivered at the realization that he had never seen Mo naked, and that, for the time being, he still wasn’t allowed to. He crossed his arms over his chest once he had stripped, cold and strangely self-conscious.
“Did you prep in the shower?” Mo asked.
“What- what does that mean?”
“I’ll take that as a no. Do you have lube in here?”
Heng pointed at his bedside table.
“And condoms?”
“They’re in there too.”
Mo nodded and leaned over to rummage around for them. “You need me to do everything, huh?” he said over his shoulder.
Heng’s ears burned. “No, I don’t,” he lied.
“Sure.” Mo tossed a strip of condoms and Heng’s almost-empty bottle of lube onto the bed. “We’ll have to get more of that. I’ll show you the brand I like.”
"Okay." Heng didn’t realize there was a difference between different brands of lube, but that was what he had Mo for: to guide him through being gay, and his boyfriend. He reclined against the pillows, and let Mo push him around until his ass was halfway in his lap, propped up in Mo’s folded legs, on his cute socked feet.
“Ready?” Mo murmured. Heng nodded, looking up at the ceiling. There were a few sounds—the cap on the bottle of lube flipping open, the wet squelch of it being squirted into Mo’s palm and spread over his finger—and then the cold touch of Mo’s finger against his hole. Mo didn’t hesitate before he pushed inside, his finger as brusque and confident as the rest of him.
“Oh,” Heng realized, the sound leaving him on an exhale. “It’s so much.” It wasn't the size that he had to accustom himself to, as much as it was the knowledge that it was Mo's finger inside him, in a place so intimate Heng had never been there himself. But to Mo, this was normal, Heng supposed. Gay guys did stuff like this all the time.
“Don’t worry,” Mo reassured him, “you can take it. You’ll have to, if you want to take my cock.”
Heng swallowed. In his experience, Mo knew what he was doing almost all of the time, but Heng didn’t know if he was right about that. It was scary, all of a sudden. Why couldn't he just be like a girl, ready for Mo to fuck him, no preparation required? “Mo, wait,” he said, casting about for a reason. “Can you slow down a little? It kinda hurts.”
Mo’s hand stilled, and he took out his finger. “Heng, we really don’t have to do this. We can do this some other time, I promise. Do you just want to kiss some more? We can.”
Heng scrambled up and grabbed his arm. “Don’t stop, I- I didn’t mean for you to stop.”
“You said I was hurting you.”
“I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to… I don’t know.”
“Heng,” Mo said, exasperated. “Come on. What was I supposed to think?”
“It’s hard for me, okay? I’ve never done this before.”
“Do you want it?”
“Of course I want it.”
Mo gave Heng a long glance, and then nodded, like he’d made a decision about something. All day long he had been looking at Heng like this, even before they’d come to bed together: with a force that made Heng feel dizzy. It was the reason that Heng had awkwardly excused himself for an early evening shower, and with similar awkwardness pressed his forehead up against the tile and cleaned out his asshole. He knew that Mo could be kind of intense, obviously, but usually that intensity was trained on someone else. He felt pinned in place by Mo’s gaze, his big serious eyes.
“Okay, Heng,” Mo said softly. “How about this. You can whine and complain as much as you want, but unless you say the word ‘stop,’ I’m not going to stop.”
“Um,” Heng hedged. He didn’t really want to admit to it aloud, but the truth of the matter was that he liked the sound of that very much. No thinking, no deciding—letting everything that happened to him be entirely up to Mo. He fiddled with the sheets beneath his hands. “Okay,” he said. He cleared his throat, and finally managed to say, “Yes.”
“And if you don’t like something?”
“I’ll say 'stop,' Mo.”
Mo smiled. It was not a nice smile. Heng’s heart was beating very quickly for some reason. “Heng,” Mo said, quietly, “get on your hands and knees right now.”
Heng slowly turned over and arranged himself as Mo had requested. He waited for a long second for Mo to touch him. “Mo,” he whined, when he didn’t.
“Fine,” Mo said. He grabbed his ass, and pulled his cheeks apart.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Heng realized the answer to his own question—Mo was looking at his hole—and he squirmed to try and get away.
Mo’s grip firmed, so much that it hurt a little. Heng could feel the sharp dig of his nails. “Stay still.”
Heng stilled. One of Mo’s fingers was wet with lube against his skin, and the palm of his other hand left a big smear of the stuff across his asscheek. It quickly turned cool in the air of Heng’s bedroom. Mo let go, and Heng heard him squirt more lube onto his hand. This time when he pressed inside, it was with two fingers, tucking themselves snugly inside Heng with ease. Heng crossed and uncrossed his ankles.
“Mo,” he said, “that feels so big.”
“You’ll get something bigger soon,” Mo said calmly. He was pushing his fingers in and out, curling them around, twisting them. It was like Mo was playing with him, Heng thought. He whined high in his throat. Mo is inside me, he thought, over and over again. He wondered, helplessly, Does he like it? Am I being what he wants? He clenched down at the bereaved thought that Mo didn’t, and he wasn’t, and then groaned at the feeling. He felt the stretch of Mo’s fingers, achingly, acutely, when he did that. He hung his head down, and looked between his own legs at Mo’s crotch, his erection pinned down beneath his work slacks that he was still wearing. Heng wondered how big his dick was.
“Can I have another finger?” he asked, squinting at the bulge in Mo’s pants. He couldn’t tell for sure, but surely he’d need at least that.
"Greedy,” Mo teased. He pushed in another finger anyway, and Heng let out a long, low sound. Mo hadn’t added more lube, and the slightly-too-dry stretch of his finger made Heng’s toes curl. A few thrusts, and the lube was sufficiently spread around that Mo could fuck him smoothly. Heng found himself wanting the ache and burn back; he found himself wondering, What would happen if he fucked me without lube?
“I think you’ll be able to take me,” Mo said a moment later. “Unless you want me to keep going?”
Heng was breathing quick and shallow already, still thinking about Mo forcing his way inside while it still hurt. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “If- if you want to.”
Mo withdrew his fingers, and wiped them off on Heng’s comforter. Heng wanted to protest, but he would have done the same thing, and he was pretty sure that Mo knew it. Anyway, Mo was the one who did the laundry.
“I’ll let you choose,” Mo said magnanimously. “How do you want to be fucked?”
“Can I- I want to see your face.”
Mo’s upside-down expression softened. “Sure.” He sat back and began to undress. His shirt halfway over his head, he added, “Arrange yourself how you want.”
Heng started, and turned over. He had forgotten that he could move without Mo telling him to, and in fact he supposed that he was still yet to. He was glad that he had turned over, though: like this, he could watch Mo pulling down his pants from right side-up. He was not disappointed. Heng was taller than Mo, but Mo was broader, and likewise Mo’s dick was bigger, heftier, than Heng’s was. Heng watched Mo give himself a few tugs, watching the heavy weight of it jerk in his hand. His mouth watered.
“Mo, do you think-?” he asked. He jerked his chin down at Mo’s dick, and pointed at his mouth, hoping that would get his point across.
Mo laughed, a little mean. “Nice try, baby,” he said. “You’re not getting off that easy.” He crawled up the bed, pressing up between Heng’s legs, and pushed two of his fingers into Heng’s mouth then without preamble. Heng’s eyes fluttered shut as he sucked on them. Yes, he decided, this was an acceptable substitute. Only a few sucks later, Mo pulled his fingers out of Heng’s mouth.
Heng whined, "Wait, hold on.”
“You’re such a slut. I had no idea.”
“Mo.”
Mo smirked as he reached for a condom. He ripped open the wrapper and flicked it to the ground. Again Heng thought that he would have been annoyed, had he not known that he himself would have done the exact same thing, and that Mo knew that, too. He pushed himself up on his elbows and watched Mo spread a fresh palmful of lube over his be-condomed dick.
“Ready?” Mo asked, but without pausing to wait for a response, he said, “You’re getting it.”
Heng’s joints felt watery. He wobbled back onto the bed as the overwhelming pressure of Mo’s dick forced its way against his hole. For a moment he felt a tightness in his chest: there was no way, he thought, that Mo was ever going to fit, and then what could Heng do to make it up to him? Then the head of Mo’s dick popped through his rim, and he jerked up onto his elbows.
“Heng, stay still,” Mo barked, just as Heng whimpered, “Fuck, Mo, fuck me, fuck.”
Mo sighed a put-upon sigh, though he was smiling, small and private. “You need it that bad?”
Heng was panting so hard that he felt like he’d never catch his breath. He nodded as Mo slid smoothly, forcefully inside him. His vision blurred at the feeling of every inch of Mo pushing through his rim. “Mo,” he gasped, “fuck, too big, too much.”
Mo didn’t stop to preen, the way that Heng would have, had the person he was having sex with told him that his dick was overwhelmingly huge. Instead he began to thrust, slow and deliberate, jerking Heng’s whole body each time. Heng heard himself making a long string of embarrassing noises, but he couldn’t close his mouth to stop them. He scrambled back onto his hands, and Mo grabbed his wrists and yanked him back down.
“Mo!” Heng yelped.
“You know what to say to stop me,” Mo reminded him. “Otherwise, I’m going to take what I want.”
Heng’s hole squeezed down upon hearing that, and Mo let out a little grunt. He was so cute, his face flushed like it got when he was drunk. Heng tipped his head up and whined until Mo got the message, and leaned down to kiss him. He bit meanly down on Heng’s lips until they were tender and raw, punctuating every couple of kisses with an eye-rollingly strong thrust into Heng’s body. Heng felt totally helpless, a receptacle for Mo to jerk himself off into, and discard when he was done. The thought made his heart twinge, but then he thought about how long Mo had waited for Heng to return his feelings to him. His heart still felt funny, but it was for a different reason now. He wrapped his legs around Mo’s back to hold him inside.
“Heng,” Mo said harshly. “I didn’t tell you that you could do that.”
“Mo."
Mo gave him a sharp smack on the side of his thigh. “Let go.”
Shocked, Heng’s legs fell loosely open. His skin tingled where Mo had slapped him. He always thought of Mo as such an even-keeled person—for all that Heng had played with his feelings in the past, he never would have imagined that Mo would hit him. He liked it. He wanted more. He had never considered it before, but suddenly he wanted to be hit all over his body. He looked up at Mo, and lifted his legs again, pulling him in close with them.
“Don’t make me hit you again,” Mo warned.
Heng tilted up his head up, and bit on his lip. He hoped that Mo understood what he was asking for—begging for, really. He watched the realization cross Mo’s face.
“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded.
Heng shook his head. Mo swallowed. He licked his lips, grabbed Heng by the hip to force his cock all the way inside, and gave Heng a sharp, brilliantly hard slap on the cheek. Heng yelped. He clenched down so hard around Mo's dick that his abs scrunched, and he sat up a little.
“Fucking hell,” Mo cursed. He put his head down, put a harsh hand on each of Heng’s shoulders to drag him further down onto his cock, and began to fuck Heng, hard.
Heng couldn't stop himself from whimpering as he was fucked, the sound punched out of him by the bright electric feeling of Mo’s cock brushing his insides, the blunt-force relentlessness of something so big in his ass. His hands flew to Mo’s hips, pushing at them weakly. “Mo, wait, hold on."
Mo paused, for a second, and then resumed the same brutal pace. “You know what to tell me if you want me to stop,” he said.
Heng tossed his head back, and shook it no. He didn’t want to stop, but it was humiliating to like something as much as he liked this. What did this say about him, that he liked being fucked? When people saw him and Mo, they probably thought that he was the one who fucked Mo, and not the other way around, didn’t they?
But then he realized something. Mo was his boyfriend now, and these were the kinds of things that boyfriends knew about each other. Mo clearly liked this just as much as Heng did. Maybe it wasn’t so embarrassing, if Mo liked it, too, and they could like it together. Heng reached up for one of Mo’s hands on his shoulder, and laced their fingers together, holding his hand tight. He looked up at Mo, and hoped that everything he was feeling was clear on his face. He liked Mo so much.
Mo didn't slow his pace, but he gave him an exhausted, loving smile back. “Ai’Heng, I think I’m going to come soon. You feel really good,” he said, finally speaking in the kind of warm gentle voice that Heng had always associated with Mo—with Mo waking him up at midnight when he’d fallen asleep on the couch playing video games; with Mo snuggling against his side and splitting a beer with him.
Heng ducked his head to kiss Mo’s hand where his held it. “Will you- will you come inside me?” he mumbled against Mo’s knuckles.
“Yes, I’ll come inside you,” Mo said. He gave Heng’s hand a squeeze, and then let go, reaching down for Heng’s dick.
Heng gasped at his touch. Somehow in all of this he had forgotten his dick completely. It hadn’t mattered—everything that Mo was giving him was in his ass, and so there was no point in thinking about anything else. Now his dick was all he could think about. Mo was so good at touching him, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Heng’s hips followed Mo’s hand, desperately chasing the orgasm that was suddenly upon him. Mo gave him a sharp pinch on the tip of his cock, and Heng came so hard that he lost a few seconds.
By the time he came to, Mo was panting, thrusting sloppily into his hole. Heng could tell he was close to coming, and though Mo's dick in his ass was now less hot and more unpleasant, he dug his heel into Mo’s back once more. “Come on,” he said awkwardly, "um, I want you to," not sure what to say to be sexy. He squeezed down, gritting his teeth through the discomfort.
“You don't have to do that for me,” Mo said, "sorry, sorry," as he came, which was likewise such an unsexy thing to say that Heng began to laugh. He didn't let Mo pull out; he threw his arms around Mo’s neck and hugged him, pressing their sweating heaving chests together. He smiled against the top of Mo's head. He'd only been gay for four days, but he was pretty sure that he was a natural at it.