Oliver

[nola_cyclops]

Sam had started the drive from Westchester to Connecticut quietly, shifting between X-related rumination and affection for Oliver. He would drift away on some thought or memory or other (a softball game, a funeral, a moment with a student, playing chess with Charles) and then return back to reality -- back to Oliver -- and reach out to him with some topic of conversation or other.

But as an hour turned into two hours, Sam was feeling more solid. His shoulders loosened, the knots in his muscles gradually uncoiled, and he found his smile more frequently. He even, at one point, sang along to the car radio. It was good to be going home, to be chasing a tricky Scott moment with a positive Sam one.

And now it was time for Oliver to meet the Scotts. When they arrived (they had pulled over to cast critical eyes over their appearances; Scott had changed his shirt and combed Oliver's hair), it was like stepping into a sunny patch of day, even though it was getting late.

Sam had grown up with just his mom and his aunt. His mom had bought the house when she was pregnant with Sam; they had lived here his whole life. It had never been weird that he raised by his mom and her sister; they loved him like parents and loved each other like best friends, and they were fun, outgoing, loving people. They were women quick to laugh, women who played board games like they were the coolest thing in the world, women who owned a karaoke machine and who still, even without Sam, hung out at the piano in the living room and sang songs together.

When they arrived, it was all a happy blur. Sam's aunt ("Call me Sarah", she had ordered Oliver with a hug and a kiss on each cheek) had greeted them with cocktails. Well, more specifically, a cocktail called "The Oliver," which was minty and zesty and disturbingly accurate. She was talkative and friendly, and she managed to take Sam and Oliver on a tour of the house -- excluding Sam's room -- in which she lovingly made fun of Sam in every single room. (If Oliver had been nervous about fitting in with this family, maybe this introduction would make him more relaxed).

And then Sam's mother had arrived home from work, and Sam, who now remembered a life where he had lost a mother in a horrific way, hugged her a little too hard and too long. But he was comfortable here at home, and he held Oliver's hand under the table at dinner and laughed as he accused his mother and aunt of cheating at a brisk game of monopoly (Oliver had been given first pick of player piece, because he was the guest).

Finally, though, they were alone again, and now, Sam could show Oliver his room. It was exactly as it had always been: neat and orderly, clean, a slate of neutrals. There was a Top Gun poster on the door, of course, and a keyboard stand and guitar stand next to it in the corner (the keyboard was in New Orleans, the guitar was exactly where Sam had left it). His bookshelf was stacked with books and model planes, and a few model cars; there was a framed photo of Sam, his mother, and his aunt on his desk (his mom must have kindly removed the photo of Sam and his ex that used to sit beside it). There was a corkboard with old pennants, photos of Sam in baseball uniforms or costumes, an invitation to a wedding he'd attended with his ex, his college acceptance letter, little slices of his quiet little life. The room was an oasis from the colour and happy noise of the rest of the house, and it was here that Sam leaned against the wall, finally fully loose-limbed and comfortable, and watched Pietro-Oliver meet baby Sam through his things. For once, there was a free and uncomplicated smile on his face. "So this is it."

Comments

[nola_cyclops]

“You going to answer my question, or just make fun of me?” But Sam’s tone was light and unfazed, settling anew against Oliver with a nudge or two from his hips.

[nola_quicksilver]

"I hope to do both..." His breath hitched whenever Sam's hips shifted against his. "I want you to fuck me, but I don't want to have to stop touching you so I can find the condoms and lube."

[nola_cyclops]

“How about you stop touching me to take your clothes off, and I’ll find the supplies?” But also, why not press down against Oliver again, and kiss him hard at the same time?

[nola_quicksilver]

Hm, no, letting go of Sam wasn't going to work at all. If anything, Oliver clutched him tighter this time, and wrapped his legs around Sam's hips for good measure.

[nola_cyclops]

“I can’t fuck you like this,” Sam murmured, but that didn’t stop him from kissing Oliver again, or from moving in a slow, teasing rhythm, like he might use later, if they ever let go of each other for long enough…

[nola_quicksilver]

Couldn't he? Sam was smart, he'd figure out a solution eventually. But the kiss, the full-body touching, and simply hearing Sam say "fuck" was enough to make him too impatient to wait this out.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and unwrapped his legs from Sam, freeing him. "Inside pocket of my suitcase," he said, because taking the time for a treasure hunt wasn't an option either.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam was up and on his feet quickly and quietly, shedding his clothes and opening Oliver’s suitcase and taking what they needed from it. It was a giddy thing, this rush to get back to Oliver, the way Sam’s body missed and craved his. Sam tucked his clothes into Oliver’s suitcase and held a hand out, which meant, silently, ‘Oliver, pass me yours.’ Efficiency!

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver rolled his eyes at him but was laughing at he passed over his clothes, which were mostly inside out from his haste to remove them.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam was smiling, of course he was, because Oliver was laughing at him and naked and he was doing both of those things in Sam’s childhood bedroom. Sam was back quickly, their belongings squared away, and he was kissing Oliver before he could do anything else, because he needed to. When he pulled away, he said quietly and breathlessly “I love your laugh.” It needed to be said.

[nola_quicksilver]

"I love laughing with you." Oliver laughed a lot with Sam, more than he'd ever expected, even after they'd started hooking up. Ssm's sense of humor was one of his favorite surprise discoveries.

[nola_cyclops]

“And at me,” Sam added with another grin, which to him was basically a love language — he was Cyclops, how could it not! — and then he couldn’t wait at all, putting on the condom, opening the lube and coating his hand with it, giving himself a few quick strokes.

[nola_quicksilver]

"You laugh at me too," Oliver pointed out, but he was barely thinking about that anymore, too busy staring at Sam's hands. Hands that were going to do stuff to him!

He licked his lips and asked, "What position do you want me?" It was Sam's special bedroom sex, so he needed to have some say over how it went.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam smiled and pulled himself back on top of Oliver so he could kiss him. “I’m going to kiss your sounds away, remember?” Details, details.

[nola_quicksilver]

"You could also push my face down into the pillow," Oliver suggested helpfully. "Or gag me with something." There were several ways to sexily shut Oliver up!

[nola_cyclops]

Oliver made a good point. Sam smiled and, because he was generous, said “pick one.”

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver started laughing again. "I told you to pick one, idiot." He reached up to run his fingertips over the nape of Sam's neck, grinning up at him. "I'm already ordering you to fuck me."

[nola_cyclops]

Sam had to laugh, which sort of ruined his complaint of “Are you really calling me an idiot right now?” But it also made it easier for Sam to laughingly, happily, make a decision; “Turn over so I can shut you up with my pillows, please.”

[nola_quicksilver]

Calling Sam an idiot had probably sealed the choice of pillows. Oliver pushed at him a little so he could turn and settle onto his stomach, the sheet providing some potentially nice friction for his cock. He turned and looked at Sam over his shoulder, and pursed his mouth for a kiss.

[nola_cyclops]

“You’re impossible,” Sam said fondly, but of course he still delivered on that kiss, and of course he slicked his finger with lube, and of course as he re-settled himself he kissed Oliver’s shoulder (okay, bit Oliver’s shoulder).

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver started to groan, but remembered to bite his bottom lip in time and hold it in. He wasn't going to push his own face into the pillow—that was Sam's job, and part of the fun. Still turned to watch Sam, he spread his legs and tilted his hips up slightly in offering.

[nola_cyclops]

“You look so hot,” Sam said before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying; just a quick, honest observation. He ran his hand over Oliver’s ass, and, as he moved closer and slid a finger slowly inside him, he nipped lightly at a cheek.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oh, wow, okay, that was new! Oliver's breath hitched, and he whispered a little "Fuck" as he rocked forward just once.

[nola_cyclops]

It was a little strange to hear Oliver whisper! They’d been lucky, really, to never have to worry about how much noise they may or may not be making. Still, everything about him was attractive, everything about him fascinated Sam. Slowly, Sam added a second finger, looking up to watch Oliver’s face as he did so.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver took a deep breath and released it slowly, urging himself to relax as quickly as possible. He considered telling Sam that was enough, but a) he didn't want to have to answer any well-meaning questions about why he was moving so gingerly in the morning; and b) Sam would never let him get away with so little prep. Because against all odds, Sam really loved him.

He smiled at the thought, and because of what Sam was making him feel right now. He breathed, "So good," so softly there was barely any sound at all and pushed back onto Sam's fingers.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam really, really did love him. He loved that even when things were difficult, or sad, or complicated, Oliver didn't run away; no, he rose to the occasion, and he stayed close and sure. And of course he did, he was a hero. But he was doing it with their relationship which had different emotional stakes than trying to save the world or protect your people. He stood on unbroken ground with Sam and promised things Sam would never forget; he talked sweetly with Sam's mother; he had loved on Sam's old stuffed animals. Sam wasn't just in love, he was fuelled by this love. Sam thrust slowly, carefully, with his fingers -- once, twice, three times -- watching Oliver still, amazed by him and reading the signs of his body.