The sharp twinges of pleasure-pain as Sam pulled his hair, the clenching fingers on his shoulder, the heavy weight of Sam on top of him as he took what he needed—fuck, it was so much, and all Oliver had was the slight abrasion from the sheet underneath him. But he didn't even try to work a hand between himself and the mattress—he wanted to concentrate on being so fully surrounded by Sam, used by Sam, here for Sam. Oliver rocked back hard with every thrust inside him, silently begging for everything he could possibly get.