Robbe And Sander

He forces himself to prop his body on his elbows, meeting a still messy from sleep Robbe in the middle of his legs, slowly taking him completely. Sander almost passes out from the image, needing to lie down again, touching his whole body thoroughly until he finds Robbe’s soft hair, holding what he can not too tightly just so he can be sure this is really happening, it’s not another wet dream.

Nobody is home, thankfully, because Sander can’t find it in his half asleep brain the will to hold back his moans, calling for Robbe every few seconds because this boy will kill right this second. He’s so eager, so sloppy, and so fucking good Sander has to let go of his hair not to hurt his boyfriend. Robbe is clearly wanting to do this his way so Sander lets him. With his not too slow, not too fast pace, wanting to swallow every inch every single time and Sander will never complain about that.

Robbe’s hands run through all the way from his belly to his thighs, squeezing hard, pushing Sander up on the bed a little bit, making him arch his back, feeling all his skin get raw and sensible for a few seconds with the hard and perfect touch.

He thinks about telling Robbe about how fucking nice this feels but all the wires are messy in his brain and his thoughts don’t meet his open mouth, constantly making noises, small or big ones.

Since Robbe wants to go the sloopy and mind blowing route, Sander follows his lead with that, opening his legs as much as he can with no shame, and Robbe moans at that, scratching his thighs. Sander forces himself on one elbow again because this obscene moment has to be seen and saved. With the other hand he messes Robbe’s hair a little more, biting his lip when Robbe opens his mouth even wider.

Sander feels like he’s on the edge of passing out when he comes, a surprise for him and Robbe, washing over him all of a sudden after what it feels like a lifetime and not long enough. He’ll never forget the scene they both made in that position.

He smiles to himself, enjoying the high for as long as he can, only then realizing his hair sticking to his skin, to the back of his neck, the sheets almost as damp under him, and Robbe finally, finally climbs on the bed again, sitting on Sander’s stomach and he sighs, looking at his even messier boyfriend, with his tinted cheeks, his curls perfectly turning outwards in every angle.

The sunlight is managing to get inside through the crannies between the curtains, right behind Robbe, creating his aura around him, naked, sitting on Sander, a little bit shinny and blotchy, and as perfect as one can be. But when Sander really pays attention, he sees in Robbe’s eyes a hint of worry, and he pushes himself to sit up properly, not too quickly so Robbe won’t move away to sit somewhere else. Sander puts his arm around his boyfriend’s waist to keep him exactly where he is.

“What’s wrong, Robbe?”

-

Robbe checks with himself again. It feels nice, amazing. There are very few things he likes more than to be this intimate with Sander. To feel him give himself completely to Robbe. For so long he wanted to feel this peace of mind, this feeling of home in someone who would love and take care of him. And he found it. He was more than lucky enough to find all of it in one person.

But he can’t stop thinking about what Sander said yesterday, and the tone he used. He likes taking care of Robbe a little too much. Not only when they’re having sex. He’s always the one on the lead for everything. Decide what they’ll do, what they’ll eat, what movie they should watch. And Robbe never thinks about it too much because, again, he likes letting go and having someone he can trust blindly to know everything he can ever want. It feels so extremely nice to finally not have to worry Robbe could really cry thinking about it.

But in moments as intimate as sex, Robbe starts to worry Sander is only taking the lead because Robbe is not as good at it as Sander is. Maybe he makes the wrong decisions, or does things in a way that makes Sander prefer to make the calls instead of letting Robbe do so.

“I want a brutally honest answer.”

Sander frowns, completely caught off guard, and Robbe pays attention to that one hair strand that’s peaking from behind Sander’s neck and he focuses on that, trying to put it back in place as he asks, “Who was the best sex of your life?”

He only looks at Sander at the very last second, feeling all his insecurities shout at him for ever bringing this up, ready to put a fake smile when Sander tries to change the subject not to say it wasn’t Robbe.

“What kind of question is that? I thought it was pretty clear…”

“That’s not an answer.” Robbe tries to laugh it off shyly, and Sander doesn’t buy it, and Robbe hates how he can see through everything. His boyfriend adjusts his posture so he can pull Robbe even closer.

“Robbe.”

“It’s just one question. I won’t be upset, I promise.”

“Robbe. There’s nothing to be upset about.” Sander looks up at him with those puppy eyes. “It’s you. I feel even ashamed at how fast I come because I look like a dumb teenager that can’t hold it for a second. I have to hold myself back so much to not come the second I see you naked.”

Robbe snorts quietly, making himself smaller to hug Sander like a koala, nuzzling into his neck.

“Why is that even a question?”

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t want his insecurities to awaken Sander’s too. Sander waits patiently, and Robbe for once wishes Sander would change the subject like he does when they’re trying to have a serious conversation. But he doesn’t deflect this time. He waits in silence and Robbe decides to get it over with already.

“Yesterday you said how much you like making me feel good…I thought maybe it was your way of trying to tell me I’m not as experienced, or as...skilled as you are.”

Sander frowns even deeper, and snorts, and that combo is the biggest sign that Robbe just said the dumbest things, making himself look even more insecure and like a baby.

“You’re acting like I know what I’m doing…” Sander smiles thoughtfully, and Robbe tilts his head, resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s. “I never had sex with a guy before you. Or anything at all, actually.”

Robbe tries to find the right words to put his thoughts out. “But still. You had a girlfriend, you had sex, you went out and made out with people…”

Sander rolls his eyes, turning them around in one motion, putting Robbe back on the bed, with Sander lying in between his legs.

“I had one girlfriend, and I made out with a bunch of strangers when I was basically a baby before meeting Britt. It’s not the same.”

“It’s still experience.” Robbe whispers, trying to justify his thoughts.

“I promise, it makes very little difference when you’re about to be with the person you love. I got just as anxious, as nervous, as insecure as you did, I’m sure.” Sander kisses his jaw, still staring right back at Robbe’s eyes. “It doesn’t help that you were mad at me, thinking I was back with Britt. I was so nervous I thought you would feel how my hands were shaking while we were in that elevator to go to the flat.”

“I was busy with other things during that minute…”

Sander snorts, kissing him again, his hand gently caressing Robbe’s cheek.

“When I say nothing ever felt like this before I mean everything. The feelings, the love, the ‘my brain can only see, think, talk, and listen to Robbe’, the hormones…”

Robbe smiles, feeling his insecurities slowly turn into dust inside his brain to give it more space to think, see, and hear Sander.