Samuel--Home

[nola_quicksilver]

The front door rattled when Oliver kicked it shut behind him. Belatedly, he remembered that this particular pair of shoes loved leaving prints on the plain white paint, but oh well, what's done is done, and his hands were full.

"Hey, Sam," he called into the apartment at large. Oliver assumed Samuel was home because he was emailed a detailed spreadsheet listing Sam's upcoming work schedule on the first of every month. Also, his bedroom light was on. "A new coffee place just opened down the street and they're giving out free coffee."

Carefully, he started setting down the six huge lattes he'd poached from the frazzled barista who'd been distracted by trying to create legible foam art. The lid on one was loose, sending a splash of coffee on the counter, but even still, Oliver put his hands on his hips and looked down on his bounty like a proud father.

Six! This might be enough to get him through the overnight shift at the tattoo parlor.

But then, with a pang of conscience, he called out, "I guess you can have one of mine."

Comments

[nola_cyclops]

Later, if Sam could ever bring himself to reflect on this moment, he would think about that eagerness and impatience, about how natural this seemed to unfold, about how good Sam felt right now. If he could ever think about what was happening. And he might never. Sam considered keeping them exactly like this -- about closing his hand around Oliver and bringing him to climax and walking away -- and, as he toyed with the idea, he curved his hand, gave more intent to his movement. It could all be over relatively quickly, he sensed. That would probably be the sensible conclusion. Was Sam feeling sensible?

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver broke the kiss but didn't pull back, murmuring against Sam's lips, "You going to torture me to death?"

His arm stayed at ease in Sam's arm, though, acquiescent, as he nuzzled in to nip lightly at Sam's ear lobe. God, he smelled nice, like soap and generally being well-scrubbed. Of course he did. Living with disgusting Oliver probably drove him to hourly showers.

[nola_cyclops]

"I'm actively considering it." That move with the ear lobe, though. That was good, and Sam's breath caught in the back of his throat. "But I'm interested in hearing what you want." Before this went too far. Before Sam could lose his entire mind.

[nola_quicksilver]

"To get my mouth on you," Oliver said. Again, without thinking, but it seemed like a pretty solid idea, actually. What he wanted more than anything was to see Sam break apart.

[nola_cyclops]

Oh no. As soon as Oliver said it, Sam wanted it. He ached for it. He grabbed Oliver by the back of his neck and kissed him crushingly hard, but then he let go entirely. Oliver's body was his own again; he could do what he wanted.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver's legs felt like jelly, his body disconnected from itself, but somehow he managed to smoothly sink down to his knees in front of Sam. He touched the top button of Sam's pants, toying with it but not undoing it, and looked up at him through his lashes. "Am I allowed now, or is this staying a secret garden?"

[nola_cyclops]

Oliver moved annoyingly well. It was almost breathtaking. "You're allowed," Sam replied, noting with satisfaction that Oliver had asked, even if the secret garden part was typically obnoxious. Seriously though: had Oliver always been beautiful?

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver grinned widely, keeping his eyes locked on Sam's as he made short work of the fly. But then he pushed Sam's pants and underwear down to his thighs, and yeah, this needed his full attention now.

"Hello," he told Sam's cock happily, and leaned in to give the underside a low, slow lick.

[nola_cyclops]

"Did you just greet--" Okay you know what? Never mind. Never. Mind. Because this was happening. Sam steadied himself with a hand in Oliver's hair. He could get used to this configuration.

[nola_quicksilver]

Well, if that shut Sam up, all the more reason for Oliver to lean in and take him in his mouth. Soon all he could hear was the blood rushing in his own ears, and all he could feel and smell and taste was Sam. And that was perfectly, weirdly, just like Sam's hips seemed to fit perfectly in Oliver's hands, holding him still as he took him apart.

[nola_cyclops]

Oh, this just because either a really big problem or a complete non-problem. By which Sam meant this just became fucking perfect? And not just because this wasn't exactly a common occurrence in Sam's life, and not just because Oliver looked maybe even subjectively hot right now, and and not just because this felt amazing. It was all of that, and it was that Sam was losing his tightly-controlled demeanor. He groaned, loud, tugging tightly on Oliver's hair, his face unlined and free from stress, for once.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver groaned around him and shivered when Sam pulled at his hair. Yes, positive reinforcement, perfect. Oliver was finally being a smart-mouth in a way Sam approved of, apparently.

He pulled off abruptly, needed a deep gulp of breath, but he replaced his mouth with his hand immediately, jerking Sam hard and fast as he smirked up at him. "Are you sure I'm allowed to do this? Not too messy?"

[nola_cyclops]

"Don't ruin this," Sam said replied, with whatever cognitive function he had left, because of course he would have to clean this all up later, but clearly Oliver was allowed to do this; Sam pulled even harder on his hair, momentarily displaced from the concept of time. Still, he did cover Oliver's hand with his own to still it, to prevent an inevitable conclusion. "Wouldn't you rather I do this to you?"

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver arched his back, hissing a little at the sharp tug of his hair. Why was this so good? It didn't make sense at all—Sam was annoying, he was fussy, he sent detailed roommate chore meeting recap emails. But he also held on to Oliver like he was the boss of him, and yeah, something about that was really turning Oliver's crank.

He turned his face against Sam's stomach, nipping at him, just to see if he'd get a reaction. "Have you done it before?"

[nola_cyclops]

Sam laughed -- actually laughed, albeit a huff of a laugh, caught up, still, in the moment -- "Are you asking if I've ever done anything with anyone, or something more specific?" Because for all of Sam's problems, and he knew he had many, he felt good here, in control here, self-possessed here. Well, not when Oliver nipped at him, in that second he belonged only to the feeling. But otherwise, yes, he was the boss of Oliver, and thank you for finally noticing.

[nola_quicksilver]

"I meant going down on someone with a penis, but if this is a deflowering, I wouldn't mind knowing?" He licked Sam's abs delicately, just because he could, and was surprised to find he tasted a little like sweat. He didn't know Sam could sweat.

[nola_cyclops]

"Who uses the term deflowering?" Sam asked, but he knew they both knew it sounded like something straight out of the Sam vocabulary book. Ugh it was annoying how much Sam loved the little touches -- the licks, the nips, the way Oliver couldn't seem to stop -- how much they made him want more. "It won't be my first time," Sam did have to admit, because it was a fair question, and even though he was an absurdly private person, this was information Oliver genuinely deserved to know, if he wanted to know. He loosened his hold on Oliver's hair, stroked a thumb over his temple. Reassuringly, maybe?

[nola_quicksilver]

That was reassuring. Oliver didn't want to have to deal with the idea of Sam being a sex savant.

He was going to make a joke, say something stupid just to get a ride out of him, but then Sam touched Oliver's head, and it was so...sweet?...that the urge seemed to wither away. He turned his face to kiss Sam's thumb. "Then how about you just let me make you feel good, then you return the favor?"

[nola_cyclops]

Were they... bonding? Sam grinned; the kiss was sweet and he felt alarmingly fine? “I’ll allow it,” he decided. “You’ve been so patient.”

[nola_quicksilver]

"Thank you, your highness," Oliver said wryly, but he also kind of meant it? And he proved it when he leaned in to take him again, but this time there was nothing slow and lingering about it—if he had the green light, he was taking it.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam was ready to comment on that ‘your highness’ crack. He really was. But then Oliver was unstoppable and incredible, and Sam felt like he was falling and flying; and that hair, that face, that mouth, all of it was converging to a perfect, inevitable end.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver thought about pulling off at the very last second and letting Sam be the one to mess up their clean floor. He really did.

He didn't.

What he did instead was feel Sam break apart under his hands, under his tongue, and he took it, wanted it, wanted more. And when it was over, he pulled back to sob out a breath, overwhelmed by endorphins and desperate arousal and knowing Sam was actually human.

[nola_cyclops]

How did a legitimate argument where Sam was completely right and Oliver was completely wrong lead to this kind of moment that was, for all it may have been motivated by psychological frustration morphing into sexual frustration, that felt like they cared for each other? Of course this was an intimate act, but it wasn’t as simple as that. There was the way Sam came and the way Oliver took that moment and stayed with it. There was the sound Oliver made, that breath of sound that Sam couldn’t quite identify but felt emotional about. Indeed, it made Sam sink to his knees, hold Oliver’s face in his hands and kiss him, with heat and force still, but also with presence, with the awareness of the two of them sharing this experience.

[nola_quicksilver]

Sam was the one who'd just come, so why was it that Oliver was the one who felt spent, wrecked? He let Sam kiss and kiss him while he scrabbled at Sam's back, just desperate to touch more of him and feel how warm and here he was. Oliver felt like he was buzzing under his skin, and he was probably going to crash even harder later, but right at this moment, it was worth it.

[nola_cyclops]

Oliver was real to Sam now. Human and present and accessible and even, perhaps, understandable. At this moment, even the coffee stain was worth it. "No, don't get up," Sam said, dry but shining, and pushed Oliver gently to the floor. Yes, the floor! And do you know why! Because Sam had spent all night cleaning while Oliver was out and he believed in his cleaning abilities! "I've got you," he added, because he wasn't here to joke around, not really, he was here bring someone who was loosing his edge far beyond it. And Sam liked this angle, Oliver on his back, Sam kneeled by him, head bent to take him in his mouth. He could plant a hand, solid and true, on Oliver's chest for balance. He could glance, occasionally, at his full, lovely form.