"Nothing to plan around — two days?" 

"Awesome. --Want to join the Mile High Club?"

"You're ridiculous," he does not say. 

"I love you," he does not say. 

"Yes," he says. 

"Maybe we should practice for it now."

"Maybe we should," and he pulls Lev over and kisses him again. 

Lev leaves him some very pleasant bruises!

Two days later can't come fast enough. 

He has ever flown before but not in a long time. He's prepared for this to be a very very different experience, and not just because he isn't ten anymore, but he was not prepared for just how different. 

For one thing, they just walk onto the plane, without having to go through TSA or check baggage or wait in any lines.

For another thing, as soon as the plane takes off, Lev can pull off Sasha's pants.

"— you know we have five and a half hours, right?" he says, smiling so much it's hard to speak. (Additional things that are very different: the kind of seat you can actually lay down on.) 

He rests his head on Sasha's stomach. 

"I like looking at you."

"That wasn't a stop.

I like the way you look at me." 

"Wonder how many times I can make you come in five and a half hours."

A soft torn sound. 

"Probably a lot," he says, and puts his hands in Lev's hair. 

"Let's find out!" Lev says, and puts his mouth between Sasha's legs.

Yes yes yes Lev please — 

— by number four he's crying, just a little bit. By number six he seems to have forgotten how to form words. If he had enough brain left to think about anything other than Lev's mouth and hands and thigh, he'd be hoping the pilot's cabin is very thoroughly soundproof. 

By orgasm number seven Lev's wrists are both very very sore and his jaw aches and even his thigh is crapping out a bit. 

He snuggles Sasha and kisses him and uses the Hitachi on his clit. 

He clings and shakes and sobs through number eight, number nine, number ten — he couldn't walk if he tried, if it stopped he'd collapse — number eleven is more intense than anything he's felt in his entire life —

Lev is moaning against Sasha's neck and biting him and kissing him and his cock is as hard as steel and he's grinding against Sasha's hip and as Sasha starts to recover from orgasm number twelve he tosses his head back and bites his lip and says "Sasha, I l--" and finishes in his pants.

He'd react to that in some way other than whining and moving (towards-away-towards-away-towards) the vibe if he could think. 

He cannot in fact think. 

"Sorry, sorry, I. Sorry."

He keeps the vibe on Sasha's clit.

It takes him a moment to process. 

"Why — are you — ?" 

He flicks off the vibe and puts his head into Sasha's shoulder. "I came."

That's. Something? 

"Should've told me," he says; it's the only thing he can think to. "I'd've been watching your face…" 

"Wasn't really thinking. Making you come for hours, it turns out, is incredibly hot."

"You're so good." Nuzzle. "'M not going to be able to walk for… a while."