Sam was more likely to make noises when Oliver was goading him on—the fact he did it while Oliver was silent was kind of extraordinary, and really, insanely hot. The soft slap of their bodies together, the rustling of the sheets, these small sounds all felt amplified in the quietness of the room. It felt dirtier, more transgressive, that if he'd been screaming his head off.

Speaking of, Oliver bit down on the pillow to keep from crying out. They'd roleplayed earlier, in Westchester, but he'd never felt Cyclops more in Sam than right at this moment as Sam took control and gave them what they both needed. Oliver was slamming his hips back in answer—yes yes YES.