London
Part Four

Tom didn't quite nap, rather he dozed and floated and tried to memorize every detail of lying there holding Oliver. Listening to the very distant traffic and Oliver's breathing smoothing out into sleep. The weight of Oliver's arm over his stomach, Oliver's head on his shoulder, Oliver's leg over his own. Feeling the tickle of short wavy hair against his throat, and how his skin was warmed by Oliver's where they touched, and was goose bumping a little as they cooled off and the temperature dropped with the sun's setting. Without his glasses everything was hazy soft focus. That rather suited his mood. The light coming from the windows was fading, the shadows lengthening, and looking down, they made patterns on their skin, where they were tangled together.

Together.

Tom smiled into the dusk. This felt good.

Not just post-orgasmic glow good, although that too, but - holding someone. Holding Oliver. He'd made promises to himself after Kay that he was dangerously close to breaking, but with Oliver's warm breath against his neck, Oliver's warm solid body wrapped around him, his head full of memories of Oliver's voice and body and face - Oliver wanting him, Oliver lost in pleasure, Oliver coming, crying his name. Oliver made it hard to care about those promises.

He lifted his head, the better to watch Oliver sleep - his face was shadowed, his eyes mostly hidden, but the sunlight caught the tips of his eyelashes, a few shades paler than his hair, and now tipped gold. Shiny. That made Tom smile wider. His hand started to circle, very softly, on Oliver's bare shoulder. Good shoulders, his Oliver, and his skin almost glowed in the light, and he couldn't not touch. Didn't want to wake him, but - how could anyone not touch? His skin was soft under Tom's fingers, and the dips and shadows of muscle and bone drew his fingers.

Tom shifted carefully, rolling onto one elbow, the better to watch and touch, untangling his arm so he could explore a little further - his arms, his collar bones, his side, the little hollow behind his jawbone, the lines of his ear. Oliver was smiling slightly - looked utterly relaxed and content - and Tom's fingers couldn't resist tracing the line of his chin, from ear to where it was smooshed against his own chest. His lips were next, gentle gentle feather touches.

Oliver murmured and turned his face a little, moving into Tom's touches. Tom froze for a second, and then bent to drop a gentle kiss on Oliver's hair, resuming his touches, gentle and careful, and trying hard not to think about how much he was feeling.

It was several minutes before Oliver started to wake up for real, a flutter of eyelashes against Tom's skin coming just before a slow smile. The arm Oliver had around him tightened a little, then relaxed again, Oliver's hand moving gently across Tom's chest and down to his belly.

"Hey you," Oliver said softly. "You're still here. Not a dream." He pressed a soft kiss to Tom's chest, then looked up at him, eyes soft with sleep and something more. "Was I out long?"

"Not so long - although I was kind of drifting too. How're you doing?"

Tom kept up the slow gentle circles on Oliver's skin - he certainly didn't seem to be objecting.

"Good. Better than, in fact." Oliver spoke quietly, his hands tracing what seemed to be random patterns on Tom's skin. "Sorry I fell asleep on you--jet lag, and all." He kissed Tom's shoulder and shifted slightly, looking into Tom's eyes. "This is the part where you find out I get all sappy after making love."

Oliver kissed his jaw, little tiny kisses that travelled along the bone to just below his ear. "Love the way you feel," he murmured, his hand gliding over Tom's hip.

Tom stretched under Oliver's hand, luxuriating in the kisses. He didn't try and stop the soft chuckle either.

"You get sappy, huh? - That sounds pretty damn good to me. Mmmmmm. Everything about you's good."

"Yeah?" Oliver raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. "Like the sound of that." Oliver's hand rubbed along his hip, down to the top of his thigh; a hot tongue flicked against his neck.

He wriggled a little down the bed, moving to catch Oliver's mouth. He needed to taste him, show him what Tom wasn't sure he had words for. It wasn't hungry and desperate, but nor was it restrained in any way.

Oliver met him, kissing back with the same level of intensity, their tongues chasing and playing. It was still sleepy and playful, but Oliver's hands, one now carding through his hair, the other drifting from his thigh to the small of his back, were starting to make his skin tingle. The touch was gentle, intimate; it made him feel precious.

Oliver broke the kiss, sliding a his foot along Tom's calf. "Have I told you yet how happy you make me? Seeing you, being here with you--it's wonderful."

Before he could say anything, before he could do more than smile, Oliver pulled him tightly to him again and added, "Make's me want." A shift of Oliver's hips and Tom could feel how much Oliver wanted, his cock hardening between them.

"Makes you want?" Tom repeated back "You mean, like you touching you makes *me* want?" He kept his tone light, gentle, teasing, and rolled his hips, pressing himself against Oliver's thigh. His hands kept up their explorations, and he ducked his head, lips finding Oliver's neck again, licking and nibbling. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of tasting Oliver's skin.

"Oh shit," Oliver gasped, his hands tightening on Tom's skin. "Feels good, don't stop."

Tom nibbled again, his breath speeding up as Oliver moved against him. They were warm together, but the chill of lying naked on the bed now that the sun was down was starting to seep in, and they were less than clean. He could feel them sticking to each other, Oliver's spent passion drying and sticky on their bellies. Oliver moaned softly again as he teased at the soft skin above his collar bone, his hand gliding over Tom's ass.

"God. Tom, you make me ache. Can we...maybe go get a shower? Do this there? I think I promised shower sex, and honestly? Kind of want to do that right about now."

The words made sense, and Oliver had strung them together in the right order, but the way his hand was quickly moving back to Tom's prick made Tom wonder if Oliver's brain and body weren't entirely working together. A shower sounded good though - possibly not better than Oliver's hand on him, but who ever said they had to be mutually exclusive things? He made himself move a little, away from Oliver's hand while he could still remember that.

"Shower - you - sex - sounds good." He said around more gentle bites. "Want to taste you."

He continued to move, until he got his legs over the side of the bed, sliding so he was mostly kneeling, leaning over the bed to continue kissing Oliver's forearm, biting gently towards the inside of his wrist. Tasted good.

Oliver followed, keeping skin in easy access of Tom's mouth, shifting on the bed until his legs were dangling over the edge. The hand Tom was kissing slid away from his mouth, around to the back of his neck, and Oliver sat up, pulling him in so he could kiss him deeply, pushing a low groan into his mouth. As Oliver's tongue stroked his, Tom felt Oliver's other hand on his hip, pulling him even closer.

"Hot. You make me so hard," Oliver said, his voice husky, breath coming faster. "Christ, so hard for you."

Tom dove back into the kiss, wrapping both arms around Oliver's shoulders, pulling him close, keeping him close, Oliver's words sparking something more desperate in him again. Oliver's legs wrapped around his, and he was being pressed against him, skin to sticky skin .... There was something they were meant to be doing, but he was damned if he could remember. Not important - not compared to this.

Eventually though the need for air drove them apart, and Tom found himself grinning.

"Told you I'd kiss you breathless when I got the chance," he said in response to Oliver's slightly quizzical look. He leant up for another, more gentle kiss. Tender. Oliver returned it in kind. It made his chest tighten for a moment. Those promises were toast, if he was honest with himself.

"Ok - shower?" he heard himself suggesting.

Oliver blinked at him for a moment, then grinned. "Shower. Right. I knew there was something--got a little distracted." Oliver kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip. "It's in the bathroom, I think."

Tom laughed and took Oliver's hand, pulling him to his feet. "I think I can find it."

Oliver let him lead the way, though it was only a few short steps. It was a good thing it was close, because Oliver apparently had no intention of stopping his kisses, only pausing long enough to turn on the water and get it hot before pulling Tom to him again, tracing his lips with the pad of his thumb. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was intense, almost frightening in its depth. Then Oliver looked away and Tom could breathe again.

"Oliver - God ..." He realised he had no idea how to end the sentence, so instead darted out his tongue, flicking over Oliver's thumb. That earned him a smile, and a playful smack on the bum. He jumped a little for effect and gave Oliver a mock frown. Playful. Much safer. That and he'd do more or less anything for that wicked smile right now.

"Right. In we go," Oliver mock ordered. "Not getting clean out here."

Tom stepped into the spray, Oliver following close enough that the hand on his butt seemed almost a natural accident. The water was hot, but not so hot it stung, and the spray was strong. Oliver picked up the soap and grinned again, complimenting the hotel for having real bars of the stuff.

"Hate those little paper wrapped squares of nothing you get in other places," he said, one soapy hand sliding across Tom's back. There was a pause as Oliver kissed his shoulder, then Tom heard him whisper, "God, you're beautiful. Such an amazing body."

There would be a time and a place to argue the point, but here and now - God, was he not arguing. Instead, he slid around under soap-slick hands to face Oliver, ducking under the spray for a brief thank you kiss. Oliver's hands came to rest on his buttocks like the most natural thing in the world. He ran his own hands over Oliver's shoulders, down his arms, and let his fingers claim the bar of soap, planning to do his share of the clean up.

Oliver's chest was smooth, his nipples dark and peaked, his stomach flat and hard, showing off the gym time. Strong arms circled him and Tom found himself being kissed again as Oliver's hands mapped his back, shoulder to thighs. Soap made them both slippery, their skin warmed by the hot water. Oliver had given up on words, but Tom could feel how much he wanted, how aroused he was, by the way he moved. Slow and sinuous, gentle then rough, Oliver let him know how much he was wanted.

They moved together, careful in the confined space, soap slick hands exploring, and looks and tastes doing all the talking that was needed. Felt like a dream. Just hands and skin and water and slow building pleasure. He slid carefully to his knees, keeping his eyes locked on Oliver's.

Oliver's eyes widened, then the lids dropped slowly, a soft moan encouraging Tom to go on. Oliver's hands flexed on his shoulders then relaxed, moving to run through his wet hair.

Tom's hands carefully soaped long firm thighs, ran double handed strokes over his calves, and then worked gently back up to lather the dark curls and the full heavy cock. He traced the crease of Oliver's thigh to encourage him to brace one foot on the edge of the tray, let him reach to soap and stroke his balls.

Oliver shuddered, the soft movement making his cock bob. Slightly longer than his own and a little thinner, Oliver's prick was darker than the rest of him, curving towards his belly. Tom rolled his fingers over the soft skin of his balls, delighted at the throaty groan he got for his efforts. Oliver's hand went back to his shoulders, then one hand traced his jaw lightly before Oliver whimpered.

"God, feels good," Oliver said, dark eyes starting to glaze over when Tom looked up at him again. Tom smiled.

"Going to feel better still in a moment." he promised, moving and turning Oliver's hips to guide him under the spray, and then going back to their stroking, getting rid of the last traces of soap. He leaned up to kiss Oliver's firm belly, and murmured "Want to taste you," against his skin.

And then he did, moving so that Oliver's body protected him from the hot water, and wrapping his mouth loosely around the head of Oliver's cock. Mostly water and the echo of soap, but when he drew his tongue slowly around it, he found it. Found the taste he was searching for, the long moan he was waiting to hear. So good. So right. He did it again, and again, building up an easy rhythm, while his fingers continued to roll Oliver's balls, and finger comb around the base of his cock.

Fingers grasped at his shoulders, tightening then relaxing reflexively. "Oh shit. Like that, yeah." Oliver's words dropped over him, thrilling him, Oliver saying it over and over. Yes. Good. Tom.

Tom teased the head of Oliver's cock until he heard Oliver start to whimper, start to beg for more. He gave him long licks, his mouth sliding over the shaft as he explored, one hand on Oliver's hip to keep him steady. He traced the vein on the underside with his tongue and was rewarded with a gasp when he suckled at the skin just above Oliver's balls.

Oliver's words and sounds falling around him like the water made his skin tingle, made him hungry for more. Tom pressed his tongue against the same sensitive spot, pressing against his own suction, and let the fingers of one hand slide up so stroke along Oliver's shaft. Another gasp, more words, and Oliver's balls tightening in his hands. So good. He was so aware of everywhere they touched - not just the cock in his mouth, but Oliver's fingers tightening on his shoulders, the brush of his thighs against Tom's shoulder, and - oh God - one long finger tracing his lips, following their line on Oliver's dick like - like he couldn't believe it was true.

The idea went straight to his own balls, an electric shiver, turning exploration into something akin to desperation. He shifted to swallow Oliver's cock once more - hard and deep, and then shallower, twisting to catch every point that might make Oliver cry out like that again. His finger's pressed up on the sensitive spot his tongue had discovered, pulling gently on his ball sac and Tom brought his head up.

"God, don't--don't stop," Oliver gasped, the fingers on his shoulders tightening again.

Tom had no intention of stopping. He did it again, taking Oliver deep, pressing, then sucking up, his tongue swirling over the head of Oliver's cock, tasting him. Oliver cried out, his name, something else, and his fingers dug in.

Tom was aching, his balls tightening in sympathy, cock heavy between his spread thighs. Desperate and hungry, he swallowed Oliver again, moaning around him, searching for the one little thing that would take him over, make him surrender to the pleasure they'd built.

"Tom--oh God, Tom!" Oliver's voice rang in the small space, his legs trembling as he came, hips moving in sharp abortive jerks as his cock twitched in Tom's mouth, his heat and passion flooding Tom's senses.

The taste and the feel of it was almost enough by itself - if he'd been willing or able to prize his fingers away from Oliver's buttocks a couple of strokes would have finished him, but he didn't - couldn't. Just wanted to feel and taste and use his tongue to gentle and calm, his hands to help hold him up, keep him close. Tom stayed kneeling for a long moment, head buried against the hollow of Oliver's hip, just lost in it.

Oliver was breathing heavily, still giving him the occasional soft sigh, and once, when he moved enough to nuzzle the soft skin next to his balls, a moan. Then it just seemed to catch up him, and Oliver slid down the tile wall gathering Tom into his arms as they more or less sat in the tub, the shower beating down on them.

"Tom--" Oliver's mouth captured his, a gentle kiss that turned into something more as Oliver's hands roamed over him, teasing at his nipples and down his belly. "God, Tom, that was--" he paused for a kiss, "so good, so amazing, fuck, your mouth--" Oliver's hands found his cock and Tom moaned as Oliver started to stroke him off.

"So sexy, watching you, seeing you like that." The words were buzzing in his ears, Oliver sounding so lazy and satiated. Warm. "So *fucking* sexy."

"So beautiful, Oliver," Tom whispered around kisses and the moans that Oliver's hands were pulling out of him. "So good, taste so fucking good, so sexy. Oliver!" Oliver's name came out as a long pleading sound as the man's fingers teased over the exposed head. "Oh God - Oliver - going to - ahh!" He buried his cries in Oliver's mouth, shaking in Oliver's arms, his climax taking him almost by surprise.

Their kiss continued while Tom's breathing slowed, the warm water rinsing them both off where they sat.

"So good," Oliver whispered again as they came down. "Better than I'd imagined. God, Tom."

When they were able to they stood and rinsed off, the water still hot. Wonderful hotel. Oliver dried him with a thick cream coloured towel, every touch smooth and sweet, turning something that could have been silly into something natural and calming. When they were dry and exchanging soft kisses, still standing in the bathroom, Oliver suddenly chuckled into his mouth.

"What?" Tom asked, the laughter infectious.

"Just realized it's like...nine o'clock, my body thinks it's early afternoon, I've just come twice and I'm going to fall asleep soonish. I'm going to have to get some stuff ready for ready for tomorrow. It'll take about twenty minutes, unless you distract me--that's an invitation, by the way--and you can open your presents while I do that."

Tom blinked. "Presents? - Oh - Janet, right?"

Oliver nodded, and ran a finger along Tom's jaw bone. He slid his arms back round Oliver's waist, fitting them together, just right.

"OK" he said after a moment "You set up your alarm call before we do anything else, and then you can try and distract me from distracting you with presents. Sound fair?"

Oliver grinned and nodded, leading him out of the bathroom. While Oliver called the front desk and arranged to be woken at seven thirty, Tom sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if he should dress. He spotted his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed and leaned over to pick it up, jumping when a warm hand slid over his butt. He looked back over his shoulder and got a wicked grin from Oliver, unable to stop his own smile. He found his glasses and put them on as Oliver hung up the phone.

"Um...I put my stuff in the top two drawers, and kind of took over more than my share of the desk," Oliver said, crossing to turn on his laptop. "But I can rearrange stuff."

Tom just nodded, watching Oliver move. He was still naked, and it looked like he was going to stay that way. When he had the laptop on Oliver came back to the bed, smiling. "Presents are on the night table," he said pointing.

Tom looked over and saw that indeed they were. A smallish box with a red plastic bow, and what looked like an envelope. He tucked his towel a little more firmly around his hips, and reached for them, hesitating with his hand over them.

"You know the lady - which one would be safer?" he teased.

Oliver looked like a moment like he was really considering the question, but then the grin was back. "Boxes have been known to explode," he said with a mock seriousness, "but with Janet I think the envelope is the dangerous one. Besides, I dropped the box and nothing happened, but now it smells like raspberries."

Tom looked at the box appraisingly. He knew, of course, that neither of them would be *bad*, but he strongly suspected that at least one of them was going to embarrass him. Maybe both of them. Finally, he reached for the box and picked it up, grinning when Oliver settled on the bed next to him and made a show of covering his eyes.

The bow came off easily enough, and the top did too, releasing the sugary sweet smell of fake berries. At least she'd put the Wild Raspberry lube in a sealed plastic bag. The disposable camera was unharmed from the small leak in the bottle.

The idea of Oliver's secretary buying him lube would embarrass him if he let himself think about it, so he just didn't, and let himself think about taking pictures with the camera instead. Pictures of the two of them together. Oliver must have noticed the appraising look and wide grin though.

"Oh no - nothing too naughty to go through the hands of however many people at the developers!"

Tom thought about that for a second, giving Oliver a mock pout on general principles.

"Ok - fair point," he conceded. "But still - I think that was really sweet of her. You know I want pictures of the two of us? I was planning on dragging you into one of those passport photo booths or something. Um - I warned you I could be sappy, right?"

Oliver grinned and pushed him back on the bed, kissing his nose. "I like sappy. I like you. And yeah, one of those booths could be neat anyway. They have a curtain. We could make out in public." He raised an eyebrow and winked so ludicrously Tom had to laugh.

"You only have to ask." he said with a grin. "Now, off. I have another one to open."

Oliver obediently rolled to the side and got off the bed, going to the desk for a moment. Tom watched him walk and tightened his towel again, then reached for the envelope. The card inside was plain enough, just a standard blank greeting card with "Have fun!" written in a sprawling, curly hand. The sheet of paper inside, however, was just confusing. "Oliver?"

"Yeah, love?" Oliver replied sounding distracted as he typed something into the computer for a moment. "What is it?"

"I think maybe this needs translating?"

Oliver called him 'love'. Oliver dropped the L word in there like it was the most natural thing in the world. The tightness was back in his chest again - mostly hope, and maybe a little bit of nerves. Not like L-O-V-Del-Del-Del wasn't a fairly familiar keyboard pattern, but .... Tom made himself breathe again, and took the mysterious sheet of neatly typed URL's over to the desk. The few metres across the room was suddenly too far away, and naked Oliver bent over to type was something he'd want to touch under more or less any circumstances.

He dropped the sheet on the desk, sliding his free hand up the elegant length of Oliver's spine, resting it at the nape of his neck.

"Oliver?"

He waited until Oliver was looking at him before he carried on.

"What did you just call me?"

Oliver looked at him, surprise and confusion in his eyes. "What did I just--oh shit." He didn't exactly pale, but he did look panicked, and Tom felt all that hope start to crumple up inside. Oliver looked at him seriously for a moment then took his hand, leading him back to the bed.

"I'm--I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I've typed it and taken it out, thought it for so long, and it just...it just came out. I know it's more than you wanted to hear, and I know it's pushy and demanding--"

Oh! Delight and joy, and a sudden loosening of that tension, and those promises he'd made himself were so long gone. Tom pressed a thumb to Oliver's lips to stop his apologies. Tom's smile widened, and he lent in to replace the digit with a gentle kiss. Oliver's expression was a picture.

"Say it again?"

Eyes wide with questioning, Oliver whispered, "Love?" He swallowed hard and said it again, one hand going to the side of Tom's face. "My love."

It wasn't a question the second time.

Tom pushed his face into Oliver's touch, practically purring. He didn't take his eyes off of Oliver's, hoping that maybe he could just *see* what that meant to him.

"Yours." he whispered. "Oliver, love. Oh - " words gave out on him again. Tom kissed him - the angle was awkward but how could he not? The kiss was gentle, breathing him in, went on forever. When it ended they both stayed silent, looking at each other over perhaps an inch of space. Eventually Tom moved back on the bed, taking Oliver with him, wriggling round until they were both reclining, face to face.

"Back - back when things with Kay went so wrong, I made a promise to myself." He started, quiet and hesitant.

Oliver was watching him, eyes serious, listening. A gentle hand slid along his arm, just letting him know that Oliver was there, and it was all right. Oliver always said it was all right to tell him things.

"Promised that I wouldn't let myself fall in love, because it was stupid and it hurt too much."

Something flashed through Oliver's eyes, pain or regret or denial, Tom wasn't sure which. "Can't shut yourself down, Tom. Too young to plan to be alone forever," he said quietly, hand still there, still comforting him. "Even if it hurts--"

Tom nodded, then shook his head. "Please, I need to...shhh, love, I need to talk."

Oliver smiled slightly and nodded, waiting. Listening. There. Tom looked away, breathing, calming himself.

"Thing is - I think maybe that was the wrong promise. Because. Because it would be stupid to try and pretend that I don't feel what I feel. I don't want to." He finally managed to meet Oliver's eyes. " I want to tell you I love you."

A slow smile that started in Oliver's eyes and spread to his mouth rewarded him, then a gentle kiss. Tom forgot to breathe until Oliver met his eyes again, shining and happy. "Love you," Oliver said softly. "Loved you for ages now. Just didn't...didn't know how to say it--*couldn't* until I saw you. E-mail isn't quite right for that." Oliver's words were getting faster, though his voice stayed soft. "God, how many times tonight I almost said it--but I still--Tom, I mean it, I won't push you. I promise I won't. I love you."

Tom rolled forward a little, enough to erase that little distance between them. Loved. He didn't even want to try and stop the laughter that was rising in him. He kissed Oliver lightly, high on the side of his face.

"Oh, love - what about me pushing you?"

He hadn't realised how much the answer to that mattered until the split second of silence that followed.

"You're not--God, Tom--" Oliver kissed him again, arms circling and pulling him as close as they could be. "Not pushing. Honest, and beautiful, and perfectly you--God, love--say it again?" But he couldn't, because Oliver was kissing him, swallowing the words as he claimed his mouth.

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