return_to_nola | Samuel--Home

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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

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?"

From:

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?

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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?"

From:

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?"

From:

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?"

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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?

From:

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?"

From:

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.”

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

nola_quicksilver

And Oliver could raise his head a little to watch too, and reach down to slide his fingers back into that thick, admittedly fantastic hair and tug in shocked pleasure when Sam's mouth slid against him in a way that was magically, perfectly right. And if his head fell back once or twice so he could bark a delighted curse at the ceiling, well, that was okay too. Somehow he wasn't feeling incredibly self-conscious at the moment.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam wasn't wasting any time here: he wanted to give this to Oliver; not merely to reciprocate, but because something in him, at least in this moment, wanted to give him everything. He scratched his fingers into Oliver's chest; he moved his tongue, his mouth, with what quite frankly could be called delight.

From:

nola_quicksilver

It was the bite of Sam's nails that finally did it. Why was that so hot? It shouldn't be so hot! It kind of hurt! He managed to get out a sharp "I'm—" because, well, it was Sam and maybe he'd appreciate a warning? But then he was shuddering, soaring, and frankly beyond caring about anything else for a few perfect moments.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam did appreciate the warning, truncated though it was, a gulping moment where his hand settled, became softer, stroked over Oliver's chest. His other hand was just as gentle, a circular rubbing of Oliver's thigh, watching him as he came back to earth. In the moment before life swept back in. Sam was breathing hard, red-faced, obviously disheveled.

From:

nola_quicksilver

After a minute, when Oliver's breath was still heaving but he could actually think again, he turned his head and blinked up at Sam, who was more mussed and...soft, somehow (not that way) than Oliver had ever seen him. It was like seeing him through an entirely new filter.

Oliver reached up and touched Sam's bruised-looking bottom lip gently, and gave him a lopsided smile. "Hey. Come here often?"