Climb the Ocean
By Ephemera and Byrne

London
Part Six

His whole day - at least his whole day since Oliver had kissed him one last time and slid out of the hotel room for his morning meetings - had been focussed around this moment and yet, hurrying back towards the hotel, he could feel the butterflies starting up again. Happy anticipation this time, at least. A little nervous that as he was running late Oliver would be fretting - he didn't think Oliver would actually be pissed off, but seeing as Tom had been far from happy about wasting half an hour standing on a train station platform, he imagined Oliver might be feeling similarly about the hotel room. At least he could honestly feel that it wasn't his fault - he may have made himself late for class changing his top three times before settling on a dark blue button down shirt, but it was Simone's questions about the impact of gambling laws on reservation life in the south west that had made him miss the hoped for train.

Still, he was here now, and as he bounced up the front steps to the heavy doors, he knew he must be grinning like an idiot once again. He moved through the lobby quickly, dodging a couple with enough luggage for a month long stay and went up the stairs, searching for the key card in his pockets. It wasn't much of a search, he knew exactly where it was--he'd spent a good portion of his day reassuring himself that it was still there. As he approached their room the butterflies kicked up a notch, dancing and taking flight. He slid the card through the lock and pushed the door open. "Oliver?"

"Right here, love," Oliver said from the other side of the room, at the desk. He stood up, smiling, and came to Tom, arms open. He'd changed from the morning, the suit gone. Now he was wearing dark trousers and a cream jumper with bands of red at the wrists. It looked soft.

Then Oliver hugged him and Tom found out it was indeed soft. "Missed you," Oliver said, kissing him softly. "Good day?"

His arms sort of fell into place around Oliver and it was like they fit, like they were made to stand together; Oliver just enough shorter that his arms fitted perfectly beneath Tom's, both pair looped loosely around the other's waist, and it was perfect. He nuzzled into Oliver's hair, scenting the slightly spicy shampoo he'd borrowed earlier, and something entirely Oliver. He took a deep breath and all the tension in his body just vanished again.

"Well, I woke up with this gorgeous guy in my arms ..."

Oliver squeezed him, and laughed softly. "You too? Lucky us."

"Ok , seriously. I woke up with this gorgeous guy, and now I'm here hugging him again, and with the exception of about twenty-eight minutes standing on the station missing a train, there's been really no bad in between. How about you?"

"Mmmm." Oliver nuzzled his neck for a happy moment. "Woke up in the arms of this gorgeous guy…"

Tom laughed a little, hands threatening to tickle Oliver's sides while Oliver laughed again and then disarmed him by resuming snuggling against his chest.

"Had a bunch of boring meetings, had a not too boring seminar, survived the lunchtime inquisition from Brett, and got all my work done. Aside from the obsessive checking of the time for the last twenty minutes, it was good. Kiss me?"

Tom was more than happy to follow that instruction, taking Oliver's offered lips, gentle at first, and then as Oliver's hands tightened on his back, deepening the kiss, tasting him, pulling him closer. His own hand came up to cup Oliver's face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone, and he suspected he might have moaned a little. Certainly felt good enough. They broke the kiss gently, descending into soft pecks. Going back to his normal day last night had started to feel unreal, and yet here he was again. "Love you," he murmured when he couldn't keep the feeling inside any more.

Oliver beamed at him, hands trailing down his arms to take Tom's hands. "Love you, too." Another quick kiss and Oliver was pulling him into the room, towards the bed. They sat down next to each other and Oliver picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying there. "Supper. Want to go out? I was thinking we could walk somewhere close, or take a bus if there's some place you want to go. Then just wander for a bit? Relax? I got a list of stuff from the front desk--movies they have to rent, places nearby that we can go to. Or we can...whatever you want. I'm babbling. I missed you."

The entire time he spoke he was grinning, touching Tom's hands and arms. Tom was fairy sure he was grinning just as much.

He ran a hand up Oliver's arm to rest on his shoulder. "Supper would be good. Heading out for a walk first would be good. Surely it should be what you want to do though - you're the visitor in town." Sitting here on the bed reminded him to ask, "Hey, did you find your present?"

Oliver made a show of looking blank, like he had no idea what Tom was talking about, then that wicked grin came back. "Present? Oh, you mean the present over there?" he asked, pointing to the arm chair in the corner. And there is was--the terribly tacky and wonderful tourist teddy bear from London, in a very compromising position with something red and plush.

"What *is* that?" Tom asked, trying to figure out not only what the two toys were doing but what the red things was.

"That," Oliver said with a sigh, "is a lobster being buggered by your naughty bear. They should be punished."

"Hey, he's your bear." Tom grinned though - Oliver's long suffering expression was priceless, and when he got up and went to fetch the two toys, the bear was, indeed, pressed up close behind a small fuzzy lobster. Who was wearing a helmet. Tom blinked and shook his head as he returned to the bed. He caught Oliver's eye and winked theatrically. "Oliver? Did you not explain to your lobster friend about safe sex?"

Oliver looked affronted. "I most certainly did! I talked at great length about protection--thus the helmet. Not my fault the lobster has a brain the size of a small pea. He thought I was still talking about bike riding. Not teddy riding."

Tom sat down on the floor, leaning against Oliver's leg, and looking up at him while Oliver arranged the toys on the bedspread. He was going to have to ask. "Oliver, why do you have a lobster, with or without a bike helmet, about your person, waiting to be molested by strange bears?"

"I don't," Oliver replied. Of course. "You do. I have a strange bear that molests lobsters from Boston who like to ride bikes. *You* have a lobster. From Boston. Who likes to ride bikes. We both have strange gifts. Or strange ideas of what to give as gifts. Something like that. What's his name?" Oliver had managed to get the lobster and the bear into a position that could have been a sixty nine except the lobster was a little short.

"The bear or the lobster?" Tom was struggling to keep a straight face, fingers running up Oliver's calves, getting into position to see if he was ticklish behind the knees.

"Please. The lobster," Oliver said, giving him a withering look. "The bear's name is Mortimer, of course. And stop that, I'll scream if you touch my knees."

"Really?" Tom suspected that he'd entirely failed to keep the glee out of his voice and coughed theatrically. "I mean - Brad. The lobster's name is Brad - good beach bum type name, and I think I'm offended that Mortimer there didn't even stop to ask before assaulting him!"

Tom kept slipping his fingers just near but not quite up to Oliver's knees, delighting in the little involuntary moves away, and practising his most innocent look. Oliver looked at him pleadingly after a few repeats though, and he abandoned the game, in favour of tugging Oliver down to kiss him again. "Thank you." he said after a long kiss. "You are quite, quite mad, but Brad's lovely. A cycling lobster - it's obvious really." Tom smiled again, and plucked Brad off the bed, carefully covering his head with his hands. "So, does that mean we shouldn't talk about finding you seafood for supper?"

"God, not in front of Brad." Oliver made a show of making sure the lobster couldn't hear, then added in a loud whisper, "There's only one sushi place on the list."

Tom started to reply, but Oliver slid off the bed and landed next to him, taking another kiss, which was followed by another. The third kiss was accompanied by a soft moan and wandering hands. "Are you hungry?" Oliver asked, his eyes darkening and a hand around to Tom's back, turning him so he was in danger of falling back onto the floor.

Tom kissed him again, pushing forward into him, hands sliding over that jumper searching for skin. Eventually he took a breath to answer the question verbally. "For you - yes. Dinner can wait?"

"Dinner can wait." Oliver agreed, making hot breathy sounds as Tom tuned his attention to Oliver's neck.

Tom paused. "Did you have something in mind? Something you've been thinking about in your meetings?" Part of him still felt a little silly saying things like that, but the flash in Oliver's eyes and the tightening in his own belly argued persuasively for ignoring it.

"Really?" Oliver asked, going still. "You'd...maybe want to play? Let me blindfold you?"

Tom did Oliver the courtesy of actually thinking about that question for a moment. "Yes." he nodded slowly. "Is that really what you've been thinking about?" He wasn't entirely sure if the blindfolding per see would be his thing, but the idea of Oliver imagining it - of being able to make it real for his lover, that twisted something inside him, made him want to try, made his cock jump.

Oliver looked carefully at him, a slight smile on his face. "Honestly I've just been spending my time thinking about being with you, not really about blindfolds and toys and shit. Thinking about kisses like this--" Matching deed to words Oliver kissed him, slowly and thoroughly before breaking away to breathe. "And I've been thinking about touching your skin, memorizing you."

His voice dropped to a husky murmur against Tom's neck. "Mmmm. Probably where the blindfold idea comes from--getting to touch you all over; it'll drive you wild, not knowing where the next touch--" The ringing of the phone on the desk interrupted Oliver's words, but not the hand caressing his hip. "Damn. You expecting a call?"

Tom shook his head, and reluctantly let his hands drop so that Oliver could get up to answer it. Watching him get up smoothly and walk across the room wasn't exactly a hardship - everything about him was good to see, the way he moved, the lines of his body through the soft fabric, the little movements he made; straightening his sleeves, running a hand over his hair, grabbing a pen before he picked up the phone. Tom was happy for a moment just to drink in the details.

"Kurland," Oliver said, already reaching for the notepad. Then he rolled his eyes and dropped the pen. "No, we're just getting ready to go for dinner." Oliver put his hand over the receiver and mouthed 'Brett' at Tom, then shook his head. "No, really ............thanks anyway, but...........Brett! Honestly. Listen to me. Tom and I are going for dinner. Not that we wouldn't love to meet you all for drinks, but we'd really hate that." The tone and the words spoke of the easy familiarity between the men; the fact that Oliver was comfortable enough to tell people to piss off and leave them alone was sort of cool. A little weird, but basically very cool.

Tom stood up and made sure Brad the lobster was safe from Mortimer's advances. Oliver was still begging off, the conversation degenerating into "We'll not be here. We're leaving. You won't be able to find us. Bye!" Then Oliver was hanging up and grinning at him. "We'll have company in about three minutes unless we go now. Sushi? Or we could make out and let Brett walk in on us, but to tell you the truth I think he's sort of counting on that."

"Want to make a bid for freedom then?" Tom smiled. "It's pretty warm out; you won't need a jacket, so we can just do a Marie Celeste." To be honest the idea of spending any of his precious evening with Oliver making nice to a group of his colleagues who probably just wanted to poke the weird, exotic 'gay boyfriend' didn't really appeal. Vanishing into the evening hand in hand though - that had merit. Tom checked that his wallet and key card were in his pocket and not his bag, and then held out a hand. "Shall we?"

Oliver grinned and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "We shall. And quickly, too."

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