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

"Well, then how can I tell you for sure?" Oliver said impatiently. Nice chests were important for this kind of thing, obviously! He waved a hand and added, "And yes, I've seen your gorgeous thick hair, it's very nice. You don't have to pose for me, temptress."

From:

nola_cyclops

Gorgeous? Nice? Temptress? What the hell was happening and why the hell was Scott pulling his shirt over his head? "Don't ever call me a temptress again, it's weird."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver tilted his head and watched as every inch of pristine, virgin skin—in the no-tattoos sense, though he wouldn't be surprised if the other part was true too—was revealed. Who knew Sam had time to work out in between complaining and cleaning? Yeah, he could definitely work with this.

"Okay, so temptress is a hard sexual no for you? I don't like edging." Oliver started to undo his belt.

From:

nola_cyclops

"What the fuck is edging." Sam knew what it was. But it was a good way to stall, because he had no idea what was going on, and he kept looking at Oliver, all of Oliver, and he couldn't stop.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oh, poor Sam. "Like, stopping just short of orgasm to make the buildup bigger?" Oliver paused to take off his shoes and socks, leaving them scattered in the foyer, before he started to push down his jeans. "I don't have the patience for it, you know?"

He glanced over at Sam, still mostly clothed, and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

From:

nola_cyclops

Did Sam move away to tuck Oliver's socks into his shoes, and angle them neatly against the wall? Yes he did. Did he run a hand down Oliver's chest on his way over to the shoes? He may have, but if pressed, he'd deny it.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver shivered and watched him with growing annoyance and...lust? God, Sam even made hooking up weird.

"That's not what I meant." He slipped a hand into Sam's stupid thick hair and tugged at it a little, just testing. "Or does cleaning actually get your hard?"

From:

nola_cyclops

Cleaning didn't, but Oliver grabbing him like that... did. This was so annoying, so stupid, and you know what? Fine. Fine! He'd see how much Oliver liked suddenly having a sexual level to their argument; he leaned into that hold and kissed him, hard -- surprising even himself with that move, but whatever! This was so annoying and dumb and objectively hot!

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver knew when he was being kissed into just shutting up already, and frankly, he didn't have a major problem with that. He pushed himself in closer, cupping Sam's jaw with his free hand—and of course even that was perfectly clean and precisely shaved, no missed spots, not even on the curve—as he opened his mouth for Sam, hungry already. He was impatient about a lot of things.

From:

nola_cyclops

Oliver was annoyingly attractive, annoyingly unattached to detail-oriented home-keeping, and annoyingly great at kissing. The way he held Sam's jaw was far more erotic than it had any right to be, and yes, that just made Sam kind of angry and also not angry at all. It was a weird headspace. It was one that inspired Sam to grip hard to Oliver's waist, to push them back against the counter, to kiss deeply. Did he still have a headache, or was everything throbbing?

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver made a little noise of surprise when his back hit the counter, but it definitely wasn't an unhappy one. Who knew a Type A pilot would be so pushy and forceful during sex? Actually, no, that made perfect sense, so why hadn't Oliver thought of doing this sooner? It was basically his favorite thing?

He nipped Sam's lower lip lightly in encouragement—yes, more of that, please—before dropping his hands to loosen Sam's fly for him. If he wasn't going to do it, someone had to.

From:

nola_cyclops

Oh god. Were they going to be compatible now? Sam was half-expected all of this to fall apart in some total chemistry mismatch, but that sound Oliver made, his willingness to be moved. Oh dear god. Oh no. "Not yet," Sam told him, and reached for Oliver's hand - holding it up above their heads. He could wait for a minute, Sam wasn't done with kissing, with pressing his bare chest against Oliver's, with those sounds.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oh fuck, seriously? Oliver was abruptly more turned on than he'd been in longer than he cared to acknowledge, and it was with this nerd?

He was impatient, hated waiting, but he did what Sam wanted, letting his hand grow still in Sam's. The kiss seemed to linger on and on, intense but without intent. He liked the way Sam's mouth tasted, albeit reluctantly, all minty and clean, and that was more than Oliver could say about some of his past hookups. Most of them came from last call at bars, which Sam probably didn't even know was a thing.

From:

nola_cyclops

Wow, so this is how you could get Oliver to do something. Sam filed that information away; he also kissed Oliver's neck down his shoulder, and bit -- fairly hard -- in the hollow there, soothing over it with his tongue to ease the sting. Oliver had tasted like coffee, and he felt soft and strong here, somehow more real now than he had ever been. Sam pushed one of his legs in between Oliver's, keeping that hand held firmly, though at the wrist now. He wondered how long he could make Oliver wait.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Fuck," Oliver groaned, not trying to keep quiet, and road Sam's leg a little, just to get the edge off. It was hard, and so was he, so it was a perfect combination right now. Sam was perfect right now, and his mouth trailing all along Oliver's skin, and if that didn't blow his mind, nothing would.

From:

nola_cyclops

"Yes, eventually," Sam said pleasantly, because there wasn't much he liked more than having some kind of upper hand -- even if his breathing was ragged, even if he was relatively close to losing his own composure. But Oliver didn't need to know that yet, not when Sam could kiss him again (Sam really, really liked to kiss), and palm between Oliver's legs with his free hand. He wasn't giving Oliver back his arm until he absolutely had to.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver pressed against Sam's palm eagerly, both for his own pleasure and as silent praise—yes, you're doing this to me, good job! Rubbing up on him made it easier to go sink happily into the kiss, lose himself in it and whatever Sam wanted, as long as feeling good kept happening.

From:

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?

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

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.