Climb the Ocean
By Ephemera and Byrne

London
Part Eight

Against his own better judgement, Tom had found that he actually quite liked sushi - eel was definitely pushing it, but he'd made Oliver smile by reaching greedily for the tuna nigri. The whole evening had been smiles and shared jokes and soft hidden touches. Walking back to the hotel in the gathering dusk had been more of that delicious rightness that was time spent with Oliver. What could so easily have been awkward was made natural and right every time their eyes met, or a finger brushed against a palm, or any one of a hundred other ways they made contact.

As if by agreement neither of them had mentioned their deal until now, as Tom let the hotel room door swing shut behind them. Not that anything was said just yet. Oliver's first move was to take the phone off the hook, laying the handset on the desk. The sound of it against the wood, and the edge-of-hearing hum of the line had a weighty feel; an evening's worth of sub-verbal anticipation thickened the air in that moment. The intent look on Oliver's face as he returned to Tom's side just took his breath away. Tom gulped, forcing himself to breathe.

"So - we had a deal," he managed.

Oliver smiled. "We did. And you lived up to your end admirably. Going to let me do my part?" The words were slow and smooth, seductive; but Tom could see the question in Oliver's eyes, the awareness that if Tom didn't want to play Oliver would easily and happily back down, more than content to take him to bed and make love without a game. Maybe it was seeing that, or maybe it was Oliver's fingers almost burning his skin through the shirt, just brushing over his side.

"Please." He could make no other answer - couldn't even be sure he knew what he was pleading for. Please make me yours, please touch me, please want me. "Please." Tom hadn't realised he had moved until his fingers found Oliver's jaw, sliding over the newly familiar skin and bone.

Oliver kissed him, his tongue tracing Tom's lower lip. "Okay," he breathed. "Wait here." Oliver crossed to the dresser and rummaged in a drawer for a moment, coming back with a strip of burgundy velvet in one hand. A shiver of anticipation went up Tom's spine.

"Stand here," Oliver said, leading him to the bed. "Just...stand. I'll take care of you." His voice was low, starting to get husky already. Another kiss and Oliver moved back to look into Tom's eyes. "This is just about sensation, nothing else. You can move, you can touch, whatever you want. The only difference is that you can't see. If it bothers you, just take it off. Really. This is for fun, not something you have to do."

Tom nodded, eyeing the blindfold, touching it with his finger tips. "Right." He'd been hard ever since they got into the room, but the tightness in his chest now he was actually faced with the reality of it had something of nerves in it. "Love? Just…don't vanish on me?"

"I'll be right here. Always," Oliver said. He took Tom's glasses and set them aside, then lifted the fabric to Tom's face. "Right here with you."

Then Tom couldn't see. He could feel though, and hear. Oliver's breath on his neck, gentle fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he stood there by the bed. He had to remind himself to breathe, the sound feeling loud in his ears. Oliver's fingers brushed the skin, tiny tantalising touches as he worked open the buttons. He took his left hand, lifting it and placing it palm out against Oliver's chest while he unfastened the cuff, one finger tip tracing the vein. The jumper was soft, fuzzy, and Oliver's chest firm. As his hand was released, Tom turned it, sliding down to rest against his lover's side, following the lines of his body.

Soft lips at his neck, and Tom tilted his head back as Oliver kissed him, felt his tongue flicking lightly over the skin. He could feel Oliver in front of him, not pressed against him, but close enough that his heat surrounded him, close enough that he could feel Oliver's erection brushing against him. Oliver's hands found his other cuff, undoing it with ease, then his shirt was sliding down past his shoulders, Oliver's hands pushing it out of the way.

"So beautiful, love. You are." The words were whispered against him, along his collar bone, his neck, his ear. Hands, warm and soft, gliding across his skin sending tingles through each nerve ending. When a thumb brushed over his nipple he heard himself gasp, arching into the touch. "God, Tom. You taste good. Feel good." The shirt was pushed out of the way and he let it go, let it drop to the floor before letting his hands go back to Oliver. It felt like every part of him was reaching out, wanting touches that felt like so much more than brief brushes of skin on skin. He couldn't think straight, just feel, and try and make sense of the cues he was getting.

Oliver slid away from his hands, Oliver's own hands brushing over him again, making him shiver, and then there was the warmth of Oliver's body resting against his back, almost a touch in and of itself. A tiny movement backwards, and he was resting against Oliver, the long line of Oliver's leg giving him just enough contact to know where he was again, enough that he could resist the urge to snatch for Oliver's hand as soon as it began to slide around the waistband of his jeans.

"Just feel," Oliver whispered in his ear, breath warm. "Let go, and feel." Oliver's hands slid over his hips, flat and firm, then back up to the fastenings, working the button and zipper slowly, kisses at his neck and shoulders distracting. Then warm hands were touching his belly, tracing patterns down lower, teasing at his skin until they were at the tops of his thighs, cloth moved out of the way easily. Everything was so slow, the way Oliver could push jeans and pants away without it feeling awkward, the slow glide of skin on skin.

"God, you make me hard," Oliver murmured so softly Tom wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it. Then fingers travelled the length of his cock and back down, teasing through his curls and cupping his balls gently.

His own whimper sounded improbably loud, but with Oliver's fingers caressing him he couldn't care, just gave it up, dropping his head back to rest on Oliver's shoulder. He was losing track of time already, Oliver's hands, Oliver's breath the only thing that still made sense. His own breath was mutating into little gasps and moans and almost words, catching on the touches, and Oliver's hands were everywhere, slow and smooth and liquid. They slid between their bodies, stroking down to cup his buttocks, pushing his clothes away as if by magic.

"Lie down, lover." Oliver coaxed him onto the bed, letting him down onto the cool sheets gently. When had he pulled the bedspread back? Had he? Tom couldn't remember, didn't really care. Oliver stripped him quickly, hands caressing his thighs and calves, touching him everywhere. Soft kisses were dropped on his legs, then Oliver was gone for a couple of seconds, not long at all, but Tom felt the loss.

When Oliver came back Tom moaned softly as hands swept up his body, Oliver settling beside him. Skin. Oliver's jumper was gone, and the heat from his body radiated as he kissed Tom's mouth, one hand cradling his face.

Tom could have gotten lost forever in that kiss, super-aware of the play of their tongues together, of the taste of lips and teeth. His eyes were tight shut under the fabric, and when Oliver gently pulled back, breaking the kiss for a moment, Tom automatically tried to open them. The press of the blindfold on his lashes kept him in darkness, and he instinctively tightened his hold on Oliver's hip, unbalanced for a moment.

"Shh. I'm right here, I've got you," Oliver whispered. "Hear me? Feel me?" Touches again, across his chest, down to his stomach, where Oliver let his hand rest. "I've got you, love."

Light kisses on his body, the sound and feeling of Oliver shifting on the bed, then a tongue on his nipple, the hand on his belly moving down to stroke the inside of his thigh. He could feel Oliver's trousers, the fabric against his leg. He could feel Oliver's cock pressing against him, then teeth dragging across his swollen nipple. Tom was so hard he could swear he could almost feel the air moving across his dick, and still Oliver's touches teased but never quite touched him there. Oliver was forcing the syrup-glow of pleasure to disperse, Tom's whole skin begging to be touched, tasted, felt sparks wherever Oliver pressed or licked.

Tom's arm fell away, offering everything to Oliver. He couldn't begin to shape words to tell Oliver, but he trusted that the shivers in his skin, the shapes of his breathing, the heat of the blood flushing his skin would be enough, trusted Oliver to know where he was taking them. He couldn't remember being this open, this exposed, with anyone.

"Love you," Oliver said softly. "Love your eyes. Your voice. Love the way you move." Hands sliding up his thighs, parting them. "Love the way you taste, love the way you sound when you say my name." Hot mouth on his belly, licking around his belly button. Hands stroking him, so close, so close. He moaned softly, shifting on the bed, trying to get closer.

Oliver slipped away from him, one hand trailing on his skin, anchoring him. Tom could hear him, could hear cloth and zipper, could hear the slide of wood on wood. "Going to love you, Tom," Oliver said. "Going to make you soar."

Tom's breathing hitched again, and he forced it into words. "Please. Love. So much." His instincts warred between curling to find Oliver, and laying tight and still and wanting. He settled for stretching out a hand as the bed dipped, finding air first, and then warm smooth skin.

Oliver gasped at the touch, the sound of his control faltering. Tom brushed his hand up Oliver's side and around to his back, Oliver moving easily into his arms. Naked now, and hot against him, Oliver twisted their legs together and thrust against him slowly, taking a lazy kiss. He was hard along Tom's hip, his hands moving in circles over Tom's skin. Soft moans filled Tom's ears, his own and Oliver's.

Then Oliver drew away slightly, rolling him onto his back again, sliding against him and spreading his thighs. He could feel Oliver between his legs, the sensation intense and arousing, not being able to see, just feel Oliver's solid weight settling on him, hands gentle on his hips, sliding and caressing. He wasn't expecting Oliver's mouth, hot and wet around his cock, his hands disappearing.

It took Tom a second to register that the sharp cry he heard was his own voice with the pleasure exploding, so intense after the teasing touches. He wanted to see - had to feel, one hand finding Oliver's shoulder, his neck, the back of his head moving over him, and it might just have been the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in this soft heavy darkness.

The hands came back, almost unnoticed as he moved in and out of Oliver's mouth, though he noticed when slick fingers were pressed into him, the dual sensations driving him higher. He knew he was whimpering, driven beyond words now, the sounds mixing with Oliver's moans and hums and the *sound* of him sliding slick moisture over him, in him. Tom arched, rocking between the twin sensations, and a hand came up to smooth over his belly, grounding him, drawing out the sensations. So high, so close. His balls were brushing against warm skin, tightening, so close, so good.

Oliver's fingers pressed and curled, his mouth tightening, sounds vibrating around him, in him, and he came with another cry, almost a sob as he shot into Oliver's mouth, felt his lover swallowing around him, fingers still thrusting deeply.

He was still shuddering when Oliver stopped sucking, let Tom's prick slide free of his mouth. Oliver was moving, shifting between his legs so he could...Tom wasn't sure what. Kisses on his belly, but the fingers in him never slowed, still brushed against his prostate again and again, the sensation almost too much. Oliver, moving, fucking him steadily, whispering words that Tom could hear but couldn't quite make sense of. Love. Beautiful. Need.

Then the fingers were gone and Tom moaned, loss and relief mingling. The hand on his chest moving up to his cheekbones, Oliver tracing the edge of the blindfold. "Take it off? Please? Want you to see me love you. Please, Tom?" His voice was tight, hungry and needy, the head of his cock pushing at Tom's entrance. Wanting in.

His own fingers were clumsy against his face, fumbling with the soft fabric, trying to get it free, get it gone. Needed to see, needed to show Oliver everything his eyes could say. The sudden light blinded him, and then he couldn't care about the blinking tears, or the hairs caught up in the knots because Oliver was above him, flushed, needing, pushing in to him - so tight, so full, so perfect. Tom's breath was frozen in his chest, both of them holding still, eye to eye, surrounded and filled, until it was too much, until Tom had to move, to roll up his hips, drawing Oliver deeper. His hand moved to cup Oliver's face, locking his fingers in Oliver's hair, once again finding sounds. So beautiful, so good.

"Oh God," Oliver said, his voice tight. "Oh my God. Tom--fuck, you're...you're beautiful. You feel so good, your skin, your hands, your mouth." Oliver broke off, scattering quick kisses where ever he could, and whatever protest Tom had to the words, to Oliver's thinking he was beautiful, were swept away by the wonder in his voice.

"So tight," Oliver said as he moved in him, long sure strokes that Tom could feel in his spine. "So good. Want to stay here forever, want to hold you forever." In direct contradiction to the words Oliver's hips were moving faster, harder, pushing him deeper. His breath was ragged, warm puffs of air skating across Tom's skin, both of them starting to become slick with a fine sheen of sweat.

Deep and full and so, so hot; Tom was beyond words, just flying on the feelings, the sight of Oliver above him, the slide of long muscles under his skin, the sheer focus in his face. God, but Oliver was beautiful. He had to kiss him, close the circle, and Tom dove upwards, curling in to kiss him, their lips finding each other, hot, hungry kisses that matched their movements.

Something shifted - the angle, Oliver's mouth stealing his breath, their bodies pressing close around his cock - something - and he drove back against Oliver's thrusts, finding a driving rhythm together that just made his head spin, his heart race.

Oliver broke the kiss with a gasp, his eyes wide. "Oh God. Oh God--" He leaned back, his hands going to Tom's hips as he thrust deep, head back. It was intense and fast and wild, Oliver's control seemingly gone for good.

"Please," Tom said, his chest tight. "God - please." Oliver was stunning like this, lost in pleasure, so close to coming, muscles straining. Without conscious thought Tom wrapped a hand around his own cock and started stroking, fast and hard, wanting to get there with him.

Oliver cried out, almost a scream, and his head suddenly dropped, his eyes finding Tom's as he froze, balls deep. Tom could feel him coming, cock throbbing, filling him with heat. And that was enough - that was everything - sparking and jolting and coming again, wringing more cries from both of them.

Oliver collapsed onto him, catching most of his weight on his arms, head bowed to bury his face in Tom's neck. "Oh God. Tom--fuck.. Oh God--so perfect." He was panting, little licks mixed in between breaths as he shuddered in Tom's arms.

When he could breathe again, he gentled his fingers against Oliver's face. "So beautiful, love, so good." Trying to catch his breath reminded him that they'd ended up knotted together so close that he couldn't. Nothing on earth would make him want to move just yet though, shivers still running through both of them. "God, Oliver. You're - love you - so fucking beautiful."

"Love you. So much. God, you're stunning, so sensual. You just--God, you just gave it up for me, just let me touch and move..." Oliver lifted his head, his hair damp with sweat. "You liked?" he asked quietly.

"You couldn't tell?" Tom couldn't have kept the laughter out of his voice if he'd tried.

"Need to hear it." Oliver said softly.

"I like. God, Oliver. I - I liked." He traced Oliver's cheekbone with his thumb, all wonder and happiness. "Love you. That was - intense. It could have been scary, but you - you were here, made it perfect, made me fly, love."

"Mmmm." Oliver snuggled back down a little shifting until they were comfortably tangled. "Even better if you're blindfolded and doing the touching," he said sleepily.

Tom shifted a little more, both of them sighing as Oliver slipped free. Tom tightened his arms, keeping Oliver close, and pressed a kiss into that tousled hair. "Touching you, love - that I like. Want to make you soar, every time."

"God, you do," Oliver murmured, hands moving slowly over his skin as they started to drift towards sleep. "You look at me and I fly."

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