Climb the Ocean
By Ephemera and Byrne
London
Part Eleven
Oliver wiggled happily. He was laying on the bed, his head propped up on his arm, with Tom behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been spooned while watching movies. They were pleasantly naked, under covers and warm, and Tom was stretched out behind him, strong body feeling so good.
He hadn't felt so content in ages.
They'd watched Fight Club, made out during Search for the Holy Grail--pausing to shout out the funniest bits--and he was just trying to decided if he was up for that Izzard guy, or just up for Tom. He reached a hand back behind him and caressed Tom's ass, turning his head for an awkward kiss.
He got it too, firm and loving and somehow laid back. Tom's arm tightened around his waist, bringing them even closer together.
"You had enough of the moving pictures?"
"Yeah, love. Not enough of you, though." Oliver wiggled his ass against Tom and grinned.
There was sudden warmth and just a scrape of teeth across the junction of his neck and shoulder.
"Convenient that - don't think I'm ever going to have enough of you." Tom smiled, wriggling back.
"Oh good," Oliver said, suddenly a little breathless as he felt Tom's prick get harder behind him. He tangled their legs together and started to rock gently, his fingers moving over Tom's butt again, holding him close.
"Want you," he whispered. "Want you in me."
Tom's breath was loud so close to his ear, and they were so closely wound together the little involuntary jerk of his hips slid Tom's rapidly hardening cock against him.
"You've got me." Tom's voice was low and trying and failing to be flip.
"Know it." Oliver shifted again, spreading his legs a little, as much as he could while they were still tangled together and dropped a hand to his own shaft. "God, Tom. Feel so fucking needy. Don't know where it comes from or why it hits so hard so fast--just does. Makes me fly, *you* make me fly."
He turned again, kissing the side of Tom's mouth. "Fuck me?"
Tom moved somehow so that he could take Oliver's mouth hard and deep without actually breaking his neck. The hand that momentarily brushed over his own wrapped around his cock made Oliver whimper, and then Tom was moving again, rolling them, reaching for the nightstand.
There was something hot and tight in Oliver's belly, anticipation growing. Lying with Tom, feeling his heat and his body alongside him was lovely and wonderful. Thinking about feeling him pushing inside, about long fingers working him open and a thick cock filling him made him want to moan.
So he did.
"God, love. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Make me ache, make me feel like I'm special and sexy and so desperate for you to touch me." Oliver arched his back, feeling wanton and needy, wanting Tom to surround him and fill him, to pound into him and to make love to him slowly. He just needed Tom.
"So sexy, love. So, so, so sexy." Tom's voice was low and punctuated with more biting kisses along Oliver's shoulder. "So special, drive me fucking wild, you do. Beautiful, sexy, love you." His lover's hands were busy for a long moment, and then the arm wrapped under his shoulder moved a little, allowing Tom's hand to find his nipple and Oliver arched back to find cool slick fingers tracing the crease of his ass. Tom went silent after a hungry moan as his fingers brushed over Oliver's hole, fastening his mouth over Oliver's shoulder, sucking up another mark to match those of this morning.
Oliver gasped, moving into the touch, fingers and lips both, feeling feverish and out of control. He hadn't realized he was so desperate, needed so much, but now all there was was Tom taking care of him. Trust and love and understanding, need that matched his own.
Everything was so intense, the way the cotton of the sheets wrapped around them, the faint smell of soap on his skin, the warm puffs of Tom's breath. Teeth on his shoulder, dragging over the new mark, firelings taking life just under the skin. Then Tom's fingers, circling and stroking and finally pushing into him, connecting him to everything.
"Tom. Oh God, Tom. Feel so good, love you." He pushed back onto Tom's fingers wanting to keep him inside but craving the movement of withdrawal and press, needing the slide and pressure. Needing to be full, needing to be taken and claimed.
Like Tom knew just what he needed, Tom's hips followed his fingers, sliding long and slow and hard pressing his hot prick along the top of his ass like a brand, rocking them both. Oliver clutched the pillow case with one hand, the other unable to settle, moving from his own prick and back again to slide over Tom's thigh. Tom shifted, one leg pushing between Oliver's thighs, so that each movement of their hips made his thigh brush against Oliver's balls. Tom's weight, half on him, was hot and right, keeping him in the moment.
Oliver moaned deep in his chest, starting to shake. He forced himself to calm down, but it wasn't easy. He was hard, his cock dripping with pre-come, his balls heavy and sensitive as Tom rubbed against him. He rocked back, opening himself to Tom's fingers. Lightning raced up his spine as Tom found his gland. "There, oh God, lover, there. More? Please?"
He knew he was begging, but he was wound up, aching. He finally wrapped his hand around his prick, stroking lightly, fingers grazing over the tip and letting himself shudder.
Tom's fingers didn't let up and near-silent groans escaped around the hot kisses and almost-bites and words that might have been 'soon' and 'love'.
Oliver closed his eyes and just rode the feelings. "Christ. Tom--love. Good, so good, need you deep--"
And then, finally, unwelcome emptiness and Tom's voice growling in his ear as he drove home. "Oh fuck. Oliver. Love you." Deep, full, hot. Perfect. Tom's hand round his hip, holding him still for a second, and then long deep strokes, just slow enough to keep him from the edge.
Oliver gasped, said something. He wasn't sure what the words were, but they made Tom slow down, turning the fast and hard fuck he thought he wanted into something exquisite. Moving slowly, slightly, Tom's cock pressed into him and withdrew in tiny motions that set every nerve ending in Oliver's body to tingling. He didn't know how long it lasted, and he didn't really care.
Tom's mouth on him. Words meant for his ears alone, touches everywhere. Tom filling him, pulling him, guiding him. Tom was the centre of everything, building up what he'd thought was impossible need to a fury, until he thought he'd die from it.
He was moaning nearly constantly, on the very edge of coming and he didn't have a clue how to do it.
Fortunately Tom knew, making him fly like this, and then doing something, moving them together, Tom's hand returning to his hip to keep him from flying apart altogether as everything coalesced into a building rhythm. Hard enough to rock him, deep enough to make him burn, and faster. Faster with Tom's voice growling near his ear, sounds that almost made sense as 'Love' gasped out every time he pressed deep.
Oliver's eyes dropped closed. He moved with Tom, every stroke flowing into the next, the angle of Tom's cock shifting a tiny bit to nail his gland, and he cried out. Tom said something behind him, the hand on Oliver's hip gripping him a little harder and then it was just Tom, stabbing into him, fucking him harder and faster and the hand on his own cock was just right, pulling and stroking.
"Gonna come, Tom. Oh fuck, gonna come." Oliver could feel it, muscles straining, pleasure and fire building, and then he just lost it. He drove himself back onto Tom's prick and came hard, ribbons of white flowing over his hand as he shot with a gasp.
The rush of heat and Tom arching and crying out behind him assured him he was in good company. Tom's head burrowed against his shoulder blades as he kept up small gentle moments inside Oliver, easing him down, loving him. Tom's hand roamed gently over his side. He hadn't noticed working up a sweat until now, feeling it cooling on his skin.
Panting, Oliver finally let go of the pillow case and captured Tom's hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the fingers. "God. Good, love. So good to me."
He closed his eyes and waited for his heart rate to slow, for them to come back into themselves. He was sleepy now, wanting to just roll over and wrap around his lover and stay that way until morning. They'd made too much of a mess for that, though, and when Tom was soft enough to slip from his body he shifted with a sigh.
"Time to clean up," he whispered, not moving until Tom nudged him.
A quick trip to the bathroom and some careful tissue work to the sheets later they climbed back into bed, sharing soft kisses and whispered words of love until Oliver fell asleep, right where he wanted to be. In Tom's arms.