Ford raised his eyebrows at Tycho's description of him as aggressive. It wasn't a label he would have applied to himself, in any context, and he wasn't sure exactly what he'd done to earn it in this case. He had limited experience with other men. Prior to this he'd only kissed two people, and he'd only really been with one person, so his perception of what was typical was heavily colored by his experiences with Macnair. Was that not good? Should he be more timid with his advances? He might have gotten a little carried away in his bedroom, Ford admitted, because he'd been panicking, but since then he thought he'd been... normal.

His sudden insecurities about the way he was handling this became secondary in his mind when Tycho pushed him onto the bed. Ford laughed despite himself, then took the opportunity while they were momentarily separated to scoot back on the bed and slip his pants and underclothes off.

"I want to lick your tattoos," he said in a rush. With Ty standing over him naked and the heat of their kisses still filling his chest he'd been caught up in the moment. As soon as the words left his mouth, though, he dismayed: that was a weird thing to say. It was a weird thing to want. He was making this weird.

Ford reached out to pull Ty down on top of him, hoping to kiss him again before he could say anything about it.

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Set by Lady!

Tycho watched as Ford slipped his pants and underclothes off. Just beautiful. He couldn't wait to explore every inch of skin with his fingers, lips. Perhaps his tongue. His mind was going to all the wonderful things that they could do with each other.

He chuckled as Ford said he wanted to lick his tattoos. As the other man pulled him down on top of him, Tycho kissed him as he allowed his body to press down against the other man. "You can do that all you like," he murmured as he nipped at Fords lower lip. "There's almost nothing that I would not be open to us doing." He had some limits, of course. But when it came to Ford, they were very few.

  

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Tycho taking Ford's weird comment in stride made Ford feel, paradoxically, even more embarrassed about it. At first, he wasn't sure why. Maybe some part of it had to do with Tycho's follow on remark that he was comfortable with almost anything. The phrasing implied that there were quite a variety of things on the table — maybe things that Ford had never done before? He couldn't know what he didn't know, of course. A little over a year ago, he had no idea that anyone could finish inside someone's mouth. They'd actually had a whole conversation about it the first time it had happened, because it had been so new and strange. With Macnair maybe that was fine, because the dynamic there had been different; Ford had always been the innocent of the pair of them. The idea of something similar happening with Ty at some point in the future was absolutely mortifying. He didn't want to play the innocent to Tycho's veteran; the naiveté to his experience.

This wasn't about sex at all, Ford realized. Divorced from the context of what was happening, Ford would never have tried to present himself as any sort of expert when it came to romance, any more than he would have claimed he could have played professional Quidditch. But Tycho didn't play Quidditch and playing Quidditch wasn't an activity they had just decided to make an integral (if, as Ford was still convinced, temporary) part of their friendship. Sex was, or it would be soon enough. Prior to tonight, they had been evenly matched in many ways; more partners than mentor and pupil. This was going to change the balance of their entire relationship. Things were never going to go back to the way they had been prior to tonight. Even if Tycho eventually got tired of sleeping with him (which he would), they were always going to be lovers from here on out, and in this moment that title seemed something less than friends. Tycho had plenty of lovers, Ford was vaguely aware, but he'd thought the friendship they had with each other was something special and unique. Ford had just been demoted.

All of this ran through his head in the span of time it took for Tycho's tongue to run across the inside edge of his lip. For a second Ford wanted to blurt out Can you promise we'll still be friends when this is over? but there were a hundred good reasons not to say it. It was desperate and clingy; it was a promise Tycho couldn't keep, because it wasn't as though both of them could just unilaterally decide not to let anything change — Ford had been through all of that with Macnair, and he couldn't change the way he'd felt; he'd just been going through the motions. Another good reason not to say it: it would kill the mood. It wasn't as though tonight could be salvaged; it was over from the moment Tycho caressed his face back in his bedroom. A line had been crossed that could never be un-crossed.

I'm going to miss him so much, Ford thought as he wrapped one leg around Tycho's waist. He was caught between wanting to get Tycho off as quickly as he could, so that he could think through things without the distraction of Ty's body against his, and wanting to draw these moments out forever so that the ending he was envisioning shrank into just a distant spot on the horizon. He reached both his hands up to cradle Ty's jaw once again and kissed him back fervently. Fuck this.

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Set by Lady!

Tycho felt a thrill going down his spine as Ford wrapped his leg around his waist, blissfully ignorant of the millions of thoughts coursing through Ford's mind. In contrast, all Tycho could think about was which part of Ford's body did he want to worship first?

Soft moan escaped his lips as Ford kissed him back fervently. Tycho only broke the kiss so that he could trail kisses down Ford's jawline and his throat. His lips travelled over his best friends collarbones before he flicked his tongue at one of his nipples. "I feel like you don't know whow beautiful you are," he murmured as he ran his hand down Ford's skin, as if committing each bared inch that he had never been able to see before now to his memory.

  

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With an internal monologue like this it ought to have been impossible to stay in the mood, but despite Ford's best efforts at spoiling everything for himself things were escalating. Tycho's moan stirred something up inside him. The kisses to his jawline were pinpricks of pleasure, because somehow his skin seemed to have become more sensitive under Ty's lips than it had ever been before. Ford's hands fell away as Tycho's face moved down, but he didn't know what to do with them. Every time Tycho kissed him Ford had a fleeting desire to push him away, just to stop the onslaught of sensations for a moment, and he was worried that unless he found something to occupy his hands he would succumb to it and then be forced to explain himself. Ford tangled one of his hands in his own hair, his grip tightening slightly each time Tycho drove him a little further, while the other stretched out across the bed.

He sucked in a breath when Tycho flicked his tongue across Ford's nipple, surprised and tantalized. His guard had fallen too much, because he barely thought before he replied, "And I feel like you would say that to anyone." This was what he'd been thinking all night, but he hadn't been planning to say it aloud. A sentiment like that could ruin the moment, if Tycho decided to force Ford to unpack it all. Ford was going to have to get better at watching what his tongue. He couldn't always count on being able to throw himself into a kiss to keep himself from saying something stupid, if Tycho was going to insist on having his mouth so many different places tonight.

"Poets," he added in an indulgent tone, to cover his slip, "Think everything is beautiful."

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Set by Lady!

Tycho smirked when Ford sucked in a breath. He quirked an eyebrow in response to Fords comment. Perhaps true so he didn't really know what he could say. Did his experience bother Ford? Tycho didn't know the full details of how things had been between Ford and the other mans former lover.

"Perhaps," he allowed as he continued down Fords body. "But no other has made such poetry fall so seamlessly from my lips. Or made me feel like the smallest downturn of their lips could destroy me." That being said, he ran his tongue along Fords cock before fully taking him into his mouth.

  

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There he went, poetry again, until —

"Oh," Ford gasped, with a mix of surprise (wholly unwarranted, given the direction things had been trending for several minutes) and arousal. He moved both hands to tangle in Tycho's hair.

This wasn't what Ford had planned for the evening. He was supposed to get Tycho off first. The plan may not have been fully formed and articulated in his mind, but now he was exquisitely aware of how they had departed from it. Tycho was supposed to come first because if there was going to be a window where only one of them had their thoughts muddled by exhaustion and the haze of the afterglow, it was supposed to be Ty — Ford needed his wits about him, to keep himself from saying something that would wreck everything later. More than that, there was a sense of debit and credit in the bedroom. Ford wanted to have the upper hand, be the one who was gracious and giving and owed reciprocation, not the other way around. If they were going to end up unevenly matched when it came to the emotional investment of this new relationship, as Ford supposed they would, the least he could do was ensure the scales tipped back when it came to sex.

But it wasn't as though he would stop Tycho. Ford moved his hands idly through Ty's hair as the sensations drove all concerns out of his mind, at least for the moment. He finished too quickly. Neither of them had a pocket watch, so it wasn't as though he could verify this assumption, but Ford was nonetheless convinced that he ought to be embarrassed about coming when he did. It would be apparent to Tycho how out of practice Ford was with this sort of thing, obvious how much he'd been longing to be touched by someone (— maybe, subconsciously, longing to be touched by Tycho in particular).

Ford sighed and stretched one hand down from Tycho's head across his neck and back. He felt the familiar mental inertia settling over him and tried to fight it back. He ought to say something, but anything that came to mind was too telling. That was incredible. You're incredible. I can't believe we're doing this. You're so fucking magical. Tell me the poem you wrote again. No one's ever written a poem for me before. What did I do to deserve you? Fuck, Ty, I —

No; that one was too dangerous even to think. It was the afterglow talking. He'd regret it in the morning. He'd regret it in five minutes.

"Kiss me," he begged.

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Set by Lady!

Tycho loved the feel of Fords hands in his hair. It didn't feel like he had been going at it for long before he was rewarded with Ford coming. He could only assume that either Ford was prone to finishing early or it had been a while. Not that he could judge even if he were inclined to do so, it had been a while for himself as well.

He smiled as Ford sighed. The other man seemed content as a cat and that was pleasing to Tycho. "Gladly," he responded in response to Ford begging to be kissed. He moved back up so that he could more easily devour Fords lips with his own, allowing his hands an exploration of the skin bared to him as he acquainted his tongue with that of Fords.

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