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What started as one kiss turned into two. The second was just as slow as the first, perhaps a little deeper. Hawkeye paused to take a breath. Francis was turning red in the face already, pink blooming from his cheeks down his face to his neck. His breath caught as Hawkeye mumbled his name against his lips.
“Francis.”
The arms around Hawkeye’s waist constricted tighter, and he planted the hand not currently holding Francis’s cheek firmly on the back of his head. He could feel Francis’s moans beneath him, resonating through his chest. Francis moved to mirror him, moving a strong hand from Hawkeye’s waist into his hair, entangling them further.
“Francis.” This time it was breathier, deeper, bubbling against his lips.
Hawkeye could feel Francis stirring to life against his thigh. He had stirred to life before, but so very rarely - and never acted upon by another warm body. They’ve talked about this, though, and Francis thinks he’s ready, that the promise he made so long ago was part of an old life he’s left behind. And Hawkeye realized this by the way Francis has already started to seek out the feeling of friction, shifting his hips into place. He’s panting now, gulping in air whenever he can. His heart pounding a steady rhythm to match.
Hawkeye’s hand brushed down Francis’s face to his arm, and down his waist to the front of his pants. He traced along the length from the bottom to the top with the tips of his fingers, and Francis moaned.
“Francis. Francis, honey.”
Francis pulled back for a moment and looked Hawkeye in the eyes. His face was bright red, his pink lips parted slightly, and his pupils were blown wide - it had Hawkeye stirring to life as well. Francis’s blue eyes darted between Hawkeye’s, and he swallowed. “Yes,” he rasps out thickly.
Hawkeye was on him in an instant, unzipping his fly as he kissed down Francis’s chin to his Adam’s apple. Francis moaned again in return, soft and wavering, as his pants were unfastened, collecting around his thick, strong thighs. He’s already mostly hard, straining tightly against his briefs. Hawkeye released him from his cage, pulling the briefs down to join his slacks. He pulled away from Francis just long enough to coax him backward into a chair, his pants bunching at his ankles as he moved.
Hawkeye drops to the floor in front of Francis, putting his hands on his knees, looking up at the sight to behold. Francis’s eyebrows were knitted together, dots of sweat already lining his forehead. He bit his lower lip as they made eye contact, beads of wetness on his long eyelashes as he looked down at Hawkeye from above. Between them, his cock stood at attention. A little longer than average, and just the right amount of girth - untouched, unspoiled, undefiled, Hawkeye thought - and all for him.
He started by running his hands slowly up Francis’s inner thighs, feeling the firm muscle beneath the skin and hair. Francis’s breath caught in his throat again as Hawkeye’s hand moved to cup his balls, covered in the same light, fuzzy hair as the rest of his body. Hawkeye experimentally kneaded them a bit, watching as Francis moaned again, his eyes squeezing shut as he squirmed. His biceps flexed on either side of him.
Hawkeye leaned in closer still, moving his hand up under the fabric of Francis’s tight shirt to feel his chest underneath. The man’s heart was hammering in his chest, and where Hawkeye expected to find more muscle, he found a pleasantly surprising gentle softness. Still experimenting, he rubbed his thumb over Francis’s nipple, causing the man to sharply draw in a breath. As he rolled the delicate skin between his thumb and finger, he felt it harden beneath his touch, eliciting delightful sounds from Francis. Hawkeye smiled, each sound a form of praise by itself.
Returning his hand to Francis’s cock, which he had moved his head closer to, Hawkeye ghosted his fingers lightly from the balls to the tip, resting his thumb over the sensitive hole. Francis’s thighs jerked together, squeezing him on either side, and his dick twitched in unison. It was beginning to weep - and so few times had it ever wept, the sight was a rarity.
Hawkeye knew he could not let this opportunity go to waste. He started by mouthing over Francis’s length, feeling it pulse against his lips as he moved ever so slowly down toward the base. Once he reached the base, he added tongue, sliding back up to the tip.
“Hawkeye -”
Hawkeye stilled, hovering over the head as he looked back up to Francis. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes.” His glasses were sliding down his nose and he had the arms of the chair in a vice-like grip, his knuckles turning white. The rest of his face had turned that rosy red to match his cheeks.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
Francis nodded. “Please,” he groaned, before biting his lip again.
Hawkeye didn’t want to draw out Francis’s introduction too far - didn’t want to exhaust him too hard on his first go-around - so he simply cut to the chase and took Francis’s head into his mouth.
Instinctively the man yelped, one of his feet briefly lifting off the floor. “Hawkeye!”
Hearing his name like that sent an electric shock from the top of his head down his spine to his feet that urged him to continue. Gently he started to move his tongue, dipping just past the foreskin below the head. Francis panted heavily above him now, squirming with pleasure, and tipped his head back as far as it would go. The squirming only grew stronger as Hawkeye took more into his mouth, going until he felt Francis at the back of his throat. One of his legs had landed on Hawkeye’s shoulder, dangling over his back. As he started to move his head back and forth, his tongue sliding against Francis’s dick, he reached up to hold that strong leg with his hand and gripped Francis’s hip with the opposite hand for leverage.
Hawkeye knew he didn’t have much time, as Francis had very little sexual stamina (for now). He could see Francis’s stomach muscles trembling beneath his shirt, and could feel precum dripping down his throat. Still he kept going with a solid pace, taking Francis all the way to the hilt, treasuring the feeling of it all: the curly hair brushing against the tip of his nose, Francis bucking his hips beneath him, the hand that had moved into his hair at some point, all of it. A subtle twitch of Francis’s thigh told him it was time, so he moved his mouth into position to drink it all down like a fine wine.
Francis’s whole body shuddered as he came, his hips twitching up into Hawkeye’s face as he let out an unrestrained, warbly moan. The hand in his hair pulled, but Hawkeye stayed put, swallowing every last drop of Francis’s cum, a feeling of pride bubbling up on his chest knowing he was the first one to do this.
Hawkeye pulled off of Francis with a pop, smacking his lips as he grinned. Francis was still panting, his right hand trading Hawkeye’s hair for his own pounding heart. Hawkeye waited patiently, reverently.
Francis took off his glasses, wiping the wetness from his eyes. “Hawkeye,” he started, his voice weak. “I... I don’t even know what to say, except... except...” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”
Hawkeye laughed and playfully smacked Francis’s thigh, moving to stand up. “I love you too.”