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“Take off your turban.” Nail was too close. His hands pressed against Piccolo’s chest, smoothing over the purple fabric covering it. His dark eyes stared intently into Piccolo’s own, lips parted by just a fraction, waiting for Piccolo to comply.
Piccolo struggled to wet his throat. He was too warm, his hands twitched to hold Nail even closer, his mouth was barely damp and his throat a desert. This was going to happen. His hands shook as they rose to lift his turban from his head and toss it to the ground behind him. Nail was going to kiss him.
“Relax.” Nail’s hand cupped his face and a thumb ran across his cheek. His eyes softened, lips quirked up in a small smile. “It’s not going to hurt. Just close your eyes, and leave the rest to me.”
Taking a deep breath, Piccolo nodded. “Right.” He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.
The first thing he felt was Nail’s hand leave his face and wrap around the back of his neck. Then Nail pulled Piccolo’s head forward and it gently collided with Nail’s. Piccolo winced, but didn’t open his eyes. Something brushed against one of his antennae, and he flinched away from the contact. His antennae were sensitive, that was why he always kept them covered by his weighted clothes. The contact returned, careful, gentle, and Piccolo managed to stay put as Nail’s antenna slid across his.
It was a strange feeling, strange but not bad. Nail’s antennae curled and slid and trailed along Piccolo’s, and he didn’t even think about reciprocating, he just did. Which was good, because if Piccolo’s body hadn’t known how to respond Piccolo himself would have had no idea. He felt himself relax, the tension draining from his shoulders as Nail’s nose brushed his. This was…nice. Stimulating and exhilarating but still…calming, in a sense. The world outside of Piccolo and Nail didn’t exist as far as Piccolo was concerned, and he could happily stay like this—with Nail, like this—for at least the rest of the day. Maybe even longer.
“This—” he started, but something over his lips stopped him. A finger, from the feel of it.
Like this, Nail told him, on the inside.
Piccolo squirmed. He’d never liked using his telepathy much if he didn’t have to. This is nice, he said. Even internally, his voice sounded hazy, detached, mumbling. He could hardly concentrate on forming words when Nail was kissing him.
Want to move to the next level?
“I—” Piccolo’s eyes shot open. “What—” Nail tapped his finger against Piccolo’s lips. What do you mean?
I can show you, if you want.
Piccolo bit his lip. He did. Show me.
He felt more than heard Nail’s chuckle, but it scarcely registered before Nail’s finger moved away and he leaned forward to touch their lips together. Piccolo’s eyes slid shut again and he brought his hands up to rest on Nail’s shoulders. That was good, too. His body was warm, his mind floating in a comfortable fog. Contentment. That’s what he felt. It was almost a foreign emotion to him, but it felt right, and as Nail’s lips molded against his and their antennae twisted together, he wondered absently why he’d avoided Nail’s physical attention for so long.
The hand on the back of Piccolo’s neck wrapped tighter as Nail pulled himself closer, their chests pressed tight together. His other hand slid up Piccolo’s arm and buried itself in the collar of his cape. How about you take this off, Nail suggested, and I can show you exactly how our bodies work.
Piccolo swallowed and pulled away from Nail, opening his eyes to see Nail smirking at him. They were seriously about to do this. He’d never been interested in sex before now—but Nail was persuasive, and they hadn’t done anything he didn’t like yet. Piccolo licked his lips and stepped back, tugging his cape over his head and dumping it unceremoniously on the tiled floor. His throat ached for some reason, and he ran his fingers over his throat.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Nail pulled Piccolo’s hand away. “That’s my job.” He braced himself on Piccolo’s shoulders and licked a stripe up Piccolo’s neck.
The throbbing in Piccolo’s throat jumped from a dull ache to an overpowering pulsing. Saliva gathered in his mouth and he gave a garbled moan as his head fell back. “Do that again,” he demanded.
Nail chuckled against his throat. “If you insist.” He pressed kisses up the side of Piccolo’s neck, biting down gently towards the top. Piccolo clutched Nail around the shoulders with one arm, his other hand on the back of Nail’s head. He moaned, his breath coming in shorter and shorter pants as Nail continued kissing and licking and teasing him. His head spun and he felt like he was coming close to something, and then Nail pulled away. Piccolo’s throat let a whine escape before he could stop it, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Nail grinned at him, showing a flash of fangs, and Piccolo was glad they’d moved to one of the Lookout’s bedrooms before they started. “Come on, sit.” Nail had him by the hand and dragged him towards the bed, sitting him in the middle of it before climbing on top of him.
Piccolo looked up at Nail. He could easily overpower Nail whenever he wanted, bring him under his control instead of the other way around. But he didn’t want to. Nail was the one who knew what he was doing, how their sex worked. And for once in his life, Piccolo wanted to learn. So he grabbed Nail by his collar and pulled him forward again into another kiss. You’re supposed to be showing me how this works, he reminded him. So show me already. Quit teasing me.
I didn’t mean to tease. Nail’s hands cupped the sides of Piccolo’s neck, thumbs resting on Piccolo’s cheeks. But if you want to move on to the main event, that’s fine with me. He slid his fingers up to press against the underside of Piccolo’s jaw and Piccolo jolted, his eyes flying open. Nail had brushed against a lump he hadn’t realised was there. Two lumps, actually, one on either side, and something electric rushed through him. His mouth fell open and he groaned, clutching Nail’s collar like a lifeline. That good? Nail asked teasingly.
Piccolo’s tongue was thick in his mouth. What is that?
These are colinary glands, Nail explained, rubbing against them again. Piccolo gave a garbled noise and his breath picked up again. They’re what lets us breed with each other.
Piccolo wrapped his antennae tighter around Nail’s. Please. Nail, please.
Nail smirked. Oh, I got you to beg. Please what?
Shut up. You know what I want—
Work for it. Nail moved away, sitting on Piccolo’s legs with a whole foot between their chests. “Touch me like I’ve been touching you, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Piccolo grabbed Nail’s collar and yanked it off him, probably ripping it a little in the process but not really caring. He hauled Nail forward, crashing their foreheads together and wrapping their antennae together again. His hands went to Nail’s neck, caressing and sliding, touching gently and being mindful of his claws. He pressed his lips against Nail’s and felt him smile against them. He moved away and grabbed at Nail’s head, tipping it back so he could have easier access to his neck. Nail mumbled something that Piccolo didn’t catch. He ignored it and licked up Nail’s jaw until he reached a small lump.
Nail drew a shaking breath. “Oh,” he gasped, his chest heaving. Piccolo swirled his tongue around the lump—“colinary,” Nail had called it—and gently grazed his teeth against it. “Yes,” Nail moaned. “Like that.”
Stop talking, Piccolo told him. It’s making it hard to stay in one place.
Don’t you dare stop, Nail demanded, don’t you dare. His claws scraped against Piccolo’s back, and if Piccolo’s skin hadn’t been so thick he thought he might have some impressive scratches. Fuck, Piccolo, keep doing that.
It was so bizarre, having someone at his mercy not because of the pain he brought them, but the pleasure. Nail’s colinary felt nice against Piccolo’s tongue, too, and he clamped down with his teeth before flicking the tip of it back and forth. He gave a final lick as Nail shuddered, then moved to the one on the other side of Nail’s jaw. Nail gasped and moaned and finally wrenched Piccolo out from his neck to press their faces together again.
Nail looked just as wrecked as Piccolo felt, eyes half closed and saliva dripping from one corner of his mouth. He held Piccolo by the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together again. “That’s good,” he panted. “Okay. You ready?”
“Yeah,” Piccolo breathed. He didn’t know what was coming next but he was more ready for it than he’d ever been ready for anything.
Good, Nail said, and he crushed their lips together. Piccolo squeezed Nail close and surrendered to what was happening to him. When Nail’s tongue pressed against his lips, he opened them to let it in, his moans muffled as Nail licked into his mouth. Saliva dripped from their mouths and down Piccolo’s chin. He rubbed his tongue against Nail’s, and Nail rewarded him with deep groans and licking around his gums. Piccolo dug his nails into Nail’s back as his breath came in short puffs through his nose.
Piccolo’s entire being was surrounded by Nail, their bodies entwined, minds connected deeper than Piccolo had ever allowed himself to connect with anyone, and for a brief, shining moment he felt like they were about to fuse again, and Nail’s inner voice gasped Piccolo’s name before something wet and warm rushed into his mouth. Some of it dribbled from their mouths, and Piccolo swallowed the rest, relishing the way it felt over his tongue, and as Nail’s movements started to slow he pushed forward, chasing the feeling of closeness from before, and his mind blanked as his vision went white, and there was more wetness in his mouth, dripping down his face even as he swallowed again.
The two of them sat there, mouthing sloppily at each other, slowly winding down as their antennae wound lazily around each other. Piccolo was the first to pull away, wiping his face and staring dazedly at Nail. Nail gave him a lopsided smile. “What do you think?” he asked. “That’s how we do it.”
Piccolo squeezed Nail a little closer. “I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”