Nick was too big, so it always hurt a little. Not a lot, but the ache was always there. It wasn't supposed to be—not if you "do it right" as everyone always said—but they didn't really know how to "do it right", and they didn't particularly care. Sure, Nick didn't want to hurt him, and passionately begged for the assurances again and again throughout their 'sessions', but he always got them, despite Greg's musings of a lingering 'ache' afterwards. He meant it in a flattering way, Greg constantly assured. "You're just too big."

Nick would blush, of course, and whisper darkly in Greg's ear to not speak of it…like that.

It didn't matter, not in the midst of things anyway. Greg always got over the initial sting, panting his overwhelm as Nick forced his way in; and as Nick finally got to fucking him, Greg just didn't care anymore. The sting was sweet somehow, coupled with the intensity of the friction and motion and the tightness in just being filled. And to hear Nick, barely able to control himself in this 'tightness' within Greg, and in his growls mixed with whimpers, tender and sorry and concerned yet so fucking aggressive and primal in his excitement, in his needy desire.

"Tell me… Tell me…" he'd pant, needing Greg to tell if it was too much, when it was too much, even though the rest of him really didn't want to hear it.

Greg never said so. Sometimes Nick withdrew with smears of blood, and Greg genuinely claimed ignorance. He'd not been aware; he'd not known of it, and afterward it barely even hurt. But still, Nick always toned it down the next time. He wouldn't give Greg what he 'wanted', he wouldn't fuck him. It'd be love, gentle and sweet and so, so slow, if he wasn't too worried to try it again so 'soon' at all. It would take Greg's begging, and Greg's assurances, that it was really alright. He'd really be alright. They'd be alright.

Eventually they tried to learn, and Greg accompanied the nervous but knowledgeable Nick to an adult 'boutique', and they found things that were supposed to help them. That they supposed would help them, but regardless, excited them with the mere thought of their use almost as much as the thought of 'using' each other.

But it was different, since they'd never done anything like this before. Both of them, in their naiveté, had only experienced each other in this way. They'd not even known the 'company' of such artificial imitations before.

Nick had the first 'toy' lubed up just as his own usually was, with Greg's ass open and ready and played with in preparation. Greg held his legs back, propped up with a pillow beneath a head that didn't touch it, bent too far up to look down in its eager enthrall. The tapered tip touched, as Nick's tongue slipped out over his lips and Greg's dropped open for an anxious exhalation. Not with too much pressure, no, gentle, push just a little and let the resistance bring it back. "It's so…hard," Greg breathed. "Harder than you."

Nick smirked, eyes glancing upward, but declined to abandon his focus for a 'witty' reply.

Little by little Nick was able to work it in, carefully pushing against the resistance, letting its gradual increase in girth be sucked so slowly, sensuously in.

"How is it?" Nick asked, slow and husky.

Greg licked his lips, head finally resting back against the pillow. "Good."

"Greg."

"It doesn't hurt."

The next time they tried another, and just the same Nick didn't get to intimately experience what he so enviously manipulated with the toy. But Greg felt it, and Greg surrendered to it, lovely and sweet and all aglow in his bliss. He'd always loved to give himself to Nick, to be taken, and it seemed so even without having Nick so 'completely'. But Nick still loved him, beyond his manipulations with the 'hard' foreignness below; he always kissed and caressed and adored—worshipped, as he'd never confess to—all of Greg. And that Greg felt, that Greg absorbed and basked in, and this from Greg Nick devoured.

By the time they finally got 'there', worked up to as big as Nick, they tried each other again. Connecting deliciously, only slow for moments as Nick clutched Greg to him, and Greg desperately grasped him the same. Chins over each others shoulders, heavy breaths tickling trails of sweat, intense and overwhelming, each thrust and whisper and moan shivering and shuddering a march of tingles up spines and down to toes. Because this time, there was nothing else, not the burn Greg always craved, but a thrill that seared deeper. Nick still whispered assurances that begged for the same from Greg, and received them, honest and free.

"I love you." Greg winced in unadulterated pleasure, panting a moan between his exhalation. "I love you," he whispered again. "Fuck."