return_to_nola

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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nola_cyclops

It was hard to be this quiet, Sam's breathing heavy with the effort of it. He tried to put his feelings into his hand instead, the way it grabbed and tugged at Oliver's hair, how his other hand curled tightly, tightly, tightly into Oliver's shoulder. And thank god, thank god even like this Sam still felt close to Oliver, in this with Oliver, and god, this was going to be over quickly, but it didn't even matter, because it felt incredible.

From:

nola_quicksilver

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.

From:

nola_cyclops

If Oliver wanted more, Sam would give him more: his fingers tightening on Oliver's shoulder, strong and unrelenting; his thrusts harder, maybe the hardest they had ever been with Oliver. Sam let out a groan which he cut off quickly by biting down on his lower lip. He was close, and this was extraordinary.

From:

nola_quicksilver

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.

From:

nola_cyclops

"Fuck," Sam breathed, strangled but still quiet, into the silence. It was incredible, it was powerful -- Sam felt strong and powerful -- and Oliver was right there with him, and he never, ever wanted to stop, but also there was nowhere else to go with this feeling than into its blinding, explosive center. Sam came with a hard thrust and nails in Oliver's upper arm and fingers wrapped around his hair.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver whimpered into the pillow as he felt Sam's climax, as strong and intense as the rest of the sex had been. He was trembling underneath Sam, and achingly hard.

From:

nola_cyclops

When the strongest of it was over, and Sam remembered himself and reality, his hands eased on Oliver and soothed over the places they'd been clutching as he pulled out of Oliver, giving them both a second. Then, quickly, he grabbed Oliver to turn him over, reminding him, as he did so, "Shhh." It was all fast, determined, because Sam didn't want to waste any time between getting Oliver on his back and Sam getting his hands on Oliver's cock with strong, quick strokes.

From:

nola_quicksilver

It took almost nothing for Oliver to come, just a few strokes and then he was done. He was still firmly in quiet mode, so he kept biting his lip and nodded his enthusiasm, fucking Sam's fist for a few beats before he finally started to come down from the height of it. Then he just breathed, listened to them both breathing in the quiet, and grinned.

From:

nola_cyclops

God, what had just happened? Finally, Sam released all his holds on Oliver and sank onto the bed -- well, half onto the mattress and half onto Oliver, slinging an arm around his chest. Sam was still breathing heavily and he wasn't sure he remembered how to speak.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver had joked about Sam wrecking his body through sex before, but maybe this time it had actually happened? He seemed to have forgotten how to speak—or maybe he'd just been fucked speechless—and his whole body felt warm and tingly. He petted Sam's arm slowly and tried to catch his breath, still smiling like an idiot.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam pressed lazy kisses against the side of Oliver's face, slowly getting his breath back. "You," he murmured, which seemed accurate. The whole world was Oliver.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver's smile grew as he tilted his face toward Sam. Literally the only downside to the sex they'd just had was the lack of kisses, so as typical, Sam was being perfect right now. "That was all you, sugar," he chuckled, swirling his fingers over Sam's knuckles.

From:

nola_cyclops

"No way." Sam kissed Oliver's jaw, his chin, his nose. "That was us, both of us."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver was shifting his head around, trying to direct Sam to his mouth. "We do make a pretty incredible sex team."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed quietly, and then, yes, he planted a kiss right there on Oliver's beautiful mouth.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver put an arm around Sam, stroking his back lightly. They were both sweaty and absolutely disgusting, and they had defiled the sheets on Sam's childhood bed. He felt fantastic. "Was your first time in here as good as you hoped?"

From:

nola_cyclops

"I didn't know I could hope for something as good as this," Sam answered honestly, seriously, though he was smiling into Oliver's cheek.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"God, you're being cute right now," Oliver told him, laughing a little. He loved seeing Sam as the cuddler.

From:

nola_cyclops

"I am?" Sam was just following his instincts, reaching for Oliver. But he felt good, like something had settled inside him.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"You're snuggling and kissing on me, it's adorable." Oliver nuzzled him lightly, smiling with incredible fondness. "You get so sweet after pounding me into the mattress."

From:

nola_cyclops

For the first time in a good while, Sam blushed, but he also laughed quietly, curling into Oliver a little more. "That was..."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Tell me," Oliver urged. Now he was playing with Sam's hair, twirling it between his fingers.

From:

nola_cyclops

"Incredible. Cathartic. Intimate. I felt so close to you, even though so much of it was different from the ways we show our closeness..."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Maybe that means we're growing as a couple, or something." He kissed Sam's forehead. "There's more ways for us to be right together now."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam smiled, touched. "I love that theory. Are you in pain?" he had to ask, because they had pushed to new levels of, for want of a better word, force.