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

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?"

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed, a quiet exhale of a laugh, and just for a second, touched Oliver's hand. There was still a glow here, a moment of connection. Oliver was gorgeous, and it wasn't yet annoying. "At least once."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver barked out a laugh, surprised but pleased. "At least?" His hand slid down to take Sam's and tug him to the floor, to curl up next to Oliver and enjoy the peace and the afterglow and the Pinesol smell. (Did Sam mop the floor every single day?)

From:

nola_cyclops

Oh. Oh, this was nice. Sam tucked in close to Oliver, turning slightly into his side, partly because he didn't want to become self-conscious; he didn't want to be Sam again yet, or, that particular version of himself that couldn't enjoy anything. "I have to maintain some sense of mystery." He replied. "And you?"

Sam was grateful the floor still smelled so clean (he did, yes, mop it every day if he were home enough to do it).

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oh, a cuddler? Oliver loved cuddlers, mostly because he was one. He tangled their legs together and curled closer, preferring to breathe in Sam rather than the fake pine smell. "I might more often now, thinking about you out here, getting off."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam would never describe himself as a cuddler. But sometimes Sam had a weird relationship with reality. He laughed lowly, unwilling to mention he mostly came out here to clean, not ready for the fight to resume -- like this whole thing had just been a pause button? -- and closed his eyes, just to take in the feeling of Oliver's body next to and intertwined with his own. "Glad I gave you something to think about."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Mmm," Oliver murmured agreeably, just happy to bask in a moment where everything, including the person tucked in against him, seemed absolutely great.

Well, almost.

"Whatever you use on the floors smells the fucking worst," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam had just pressed his lips to Oliver's jaw when he started to speak, and he pulled his face away quickly -- though didn't quite move away. "It smells like this because it works!"

From:

nola_quicksilver

"That makes no sense," Oliver said—patiently, he thought! "It smells like we just fucked in an artificial Christmas tree."

From:

nola_cyclops

Somehow, that phrasing was so offensive to Sam. And come on! He tried to so hard to make everything nice here, and they just had such a nice moment, and Oliver still hated the way Sam did things. He rolled his eyes. "It's not like I'm forcing you to stay down here."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I didn't say you were!" Oliver replied, frowning at the ceiling. Wait, had Sam cleaned the ceiling? Okay, that was a mystery for another day. "I was just making an observation."

From:

nola_cyclops

You could do a lot with a ladder and long-handled supplies. "Great, observation noted." Still, Sam didn't move away.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver didn't either, trying to hold on to the last lingering tendrils of afterglow. But then he nuzzled the top of Sam's head. "I think the smell is in your hair."

From:

nola_cyclops

"Oh my god." Sam rolled out of Oliver's reach and stood up, shaking his head. Oliver would never let anything go. "Don't worry, I'll shower."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I didn't say you had to shower!" Oliver protested. He sat up, rolling his shoulders a little to work out the kinks. With great effort, he managed to resist sniffing at his own skin to see if it smelled like the floor.

From:

nola_cyclops

"Just that the smell offends you." It was so annoying how good Oliver looked, shoulders working, changed by what they had done. Still, Sam only spared a moment to look; he was busy trying to re-clothe himself.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver watched Sam dress, disappointed. He'd liked the experience of seeing Sam vulnerable, trusting Oliver with his nakedness. It was the first time Sam had been unguarded in his presence in all the months they'd been living together. "You don't offend me."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam sighed, briefly hanging his head. Things had felt so surprisingly good, like they really knew each other. Like they got each other. But now it was the usual mess with the added bonus of, apparently, emotional distress? "Forget it, it doesn't matter."

Sam would find a new cleaning solution for the floor tomorrow.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver didn't miss the look on Sam's face. He'd made a lot of people look that way over the course of his twenty-four years. Think before you act, Oliver.

He stood, not bothering to dress, and reached out to spear his fingers back into that nice, pine-scented hair. "It's okay to call me a jerk when I'm being one."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam blinked; a slow smile flickered somewhere on his mouth, at least for a few seconds. "There aren't enough hours in the day, Oliver." Sam meant that warmly, to meet the peace offering Oliver seemed to be making.