Climb the Ocean
By Ephemera and Byrne

London
Part Fourteen

Oliver went back out to the main room to find his clothes. He could hear Tom rummaging and muttering to himself in the bathroom, the intimacy of the sounds making him smile. Tom really was not a morning person, and this was the second morning in a row they'd drifted back to sleep after getting each other all hot and sticky. Tom's face appeared around the bathroom door, half covered in shaving foam.

"Oliver? Um, I'm out of shaving foam - can I borrow some?" He looked embarrassed to have to be asking.

"Sure, go ahead. Everything's on the side."

"Thanks"

There was more rummaging, and then Tom's voice called out. "You moisturise?"

Oliver wandered back and leaned against the doorframe, watching Tom bent over the sink shaving. Naked from the waist up, foam covering his chin--he was adorable.

"Yeah, I moisturise," he said with a grin. "Spend too much time in offices with re-circulated air not to. Besides, it feels good." He reached out for the bottle of cream and looked Tom up and down. "Want me to show you?"

Just the thought of gliding a lot of cool lotion over Tom's skin was making him more than ready to be a few minutes late for his meeting. Besides, they might have time anyway-and he wasn't about to waste a moment of their last day together. Between work and school this might be their last chance for quality alone time before he had to leave.

Tom's reflection met his eye and grinned at him.

"If I say yes, are you going to wheel Elizabeth Arden in here?"

Oliver laughed and shook his head. "You want her more than me? Finish shaving, love. Nice and close for me, hmm?" He stepped into the bathroom and stood behind Tom, dropping a kiss between still damp shoulder blades.

Tom lowered his razor and arched back a little into the touch.

"Mmmm. Just for you."

There was a brush of hand against his thigh, and then Tom was back to making shaving faces in the mirror.

He was too irresistible, really. Oliver watched him in the mirror, trying not to press too close, to distract too much--Tom bleeding wouldn't be a good thing. But it was difficult to keep his hands to himself and he finally rested his hands on Tom's hips, thumbs moving slowly just over the top of the towel.

Suddenly he felt a little silly, standing behind his nearly nude lover while he himself was fully clothed. And hot, in the remnants of the steam. And hard, wanting to lean into Tom's skin and taste him. And wanting never to let go.

Tom twisted under his hands, drying off his face with a hand towel, his other hand finding Oliver's waist.

"You ok?"

Oliver nodded and nuzzled into Tom's neck. He smelled so good, fresh and clean, his own scent light under that of the shaving cream and shampoo. He was warm, too, and Oliver moved closer, feeling the smooth line of Tom's jaw along his own cheek.

"Love you. Love the way you feel against me. Don't want to let go."

Warm arms wrapped around him, one hand stroking up between his shoulder blades, sliding cool cotton over his skin.

"Love you, Oliver."

The pattern of breathing against his neck hitched a little, like words swallowed back, and the arms around him tightened.

Oliver had to take a steadying breath, his arms tightening around Tom a little more. "Not yet, lover," he whispered. "Still got time to be together; don't want to waste it on goodbyes." He caressed Tom's back with the palms of his hands and left kisses along Tom's jaw, moving slowly to his mouth.

Tom's lips found his with an equal intensity: firm, thorough and minty fresh. Tom's tongue was hot against his, the taste of Tom's mouth familiar already, and without clear markers their kisses moved from love, and yours and going to miss you, to love and yours and want you now.

Oliver's hands plucked at Tom's towel, stymied by the fact that he was also trying to grind his filling erection along Tom's hip. Clever fingers were working at his buttons, soft sighs and moans filling his mouth as Tom worked to reach his skin.

A shudder ran through Oliver's body when Tom's hand slid along his chest, plucking deftly at his nipples. "Tom--God, do that again."

He let his head fall back, his body stilling as Tom sent sparks through him. The towel finally fell away and he could touch back, earning a moan from his lover. His lover who somehow still had the brain power to be nudging him backwards, pressing close against him kissing and stroking.

Oliver's heel hit the side of the bathtub, and still Tom's hands did not let up their insistent pressure on his chest. Tom broke their kiss with a nip of teeth that made his lower lip throb.

"Sit?"

Oliver blinked rapidly, trying to process the request. Finally, he just did as he was bidden, sitting on the edge of the tub, one hand reaching for the back of Tom's neck to pull him in for another kiss. Hungry and hot, he couldn't get enough touches, wanting to just feel Tom's skin, to touch him everywhere he could.

He was hard, his erection pressing against his trousers, and he *needed* to touch Tom's cock, heavy and equally as hard as his own. Sitting on the tub didn't make that easy, but when Tom sank to his knees in front of him, hands still wandering over Oliver's chest and belly, he decided that being touched was just as nice.

Being touched like that--Tom's breath hot through the fabric, mouthing at his cock, and Tom's hands hot and sure on his skin. That was pretty damn good. His belt vanished, buttons and zips vanished, and Tom's hands pushed away his pants, thumbs tracing the line where thighs meet groin. He tried vainly to open his legs and found himself tethered by his own clothes, and from the look Tom gave him as his lover knelt up and bit gently over one hip bone, that was quite intentional.

"Tom?" He was almost whimpering, arching into the touch and hands suddenly scrabbling at the edge of the tub, trying to keep his balance. God, Tom looked so sexy, naked and taking charge, every look and touch making Oliver want. "Christ." He was breathless, his body thrumming with want that was a heady mixture of need and desperation. The thought of leaving was adding flavour, the bitter and sweet mixing until he felt dizzy.

Tom ran his tongue over the red mark on his hip, and Oliver twitched, the mark hot and alive. Tom's mark. And Tom's eyes looking up at him the entire time.

"Love you." Fuck, but that tone in his voice was just something else, low and hungry and sexy as all hell. And then there was no more talking, just heat and suction and fingers rolling his balls and fingers pulling over the skin of his stomach leaving trails of tingling sensation.

"Oh God, so good--" And it was, Tom's mouth on him, sucking and playing and driving him mad. Oliver tried to move, his hips wanting to thrust into the wet heat, but his precarious position leaving him completely unable too. He had to sit and take it, watching Tom's head bobbing, feeling hands and tongue and the vibrations from Tom's moans.

Nothing he could do but lean back and watch and feel and let his words connect where his hands could not. Gods, but what can you say when everything is turning into pleasure and heat and burning higher and every 'oh yes' and 'love you' makes your lover moan and his fingers tighten and it takes everything you have to keep from slipping into the tub and breaking your head on the bathroom wall because oh God that felt amazing.

Tom kept moving, twisting his head, changing his angle, leaning close so that his hands could explore higher, scratching long gentle lines down his body, and then crouching lower to mouth his balls and never once letting Oliver anticipate him.

Oliver was gasping, his fingers clutching the tub, his eyes rolling back in his head as Tom's tongue slid over his balls. He cried out when Tom sucked one gently into his mouth, fingers finding his left nipple at the same time, twisting and teasing.

"Fuck! Oh shit, Tom. Don't stop, God, don't stop. So good--" He knew he was whimpering, his cock throbbing, hard as steel as pleasure ran though his body. "So sexy, love. Look so hot, feel so fucking good." He wanted to ride it out for as long as possible, wanted the fire in his blood to stay for just a little longer.

Tom's moans rolled through him, mouth busy against the tight skin of his sac. The press of fingers hard against his hip was the only solid thing to latch onto as Tom's other hand moved to his right nipple, sliding, scratching between the two until the sparks were almost constant. And then Tom's tongue was tracing the underside of his cock, tongue lapping and teasing around the leaking head, sending him higher still.

Oliver whimpered, his hips fighting to thrust. "Suck me. Please, Tom, suck me."

He cried out when Tom complied, his mouth surrounding his prick, suction just hard enough to send his hunger higher, but light enough that he didn't shoot right away. He was floating, moaning nearly constantly with every muscle in his back and shoulders crying out. Carefully, he reached back and braced himself on the other side of the tub, almost leaning back all the way. He was in danger of falling right into the tub, but he didn't care--this way he could give into need and let himself go.

He started thrusting, pushing his cock deeper into Tom's mouth, words of need and encouragement echoing off the tiles. The sounds Tom added to his own rumbled up through his nerves, burning through him. He lost track of which hand was where and when Tom's tongue was lapping and when it was circling in the overwhelming flood of feeling, watching that dark head bowed over his hips, taking him in, enjoying him, loving him.

"Tom," he gasped. "Oh God, love. Close--getting close."

He pushed up, his cock going deep as Tom let him in, mouth and tongue working hard. Tom was hitting every hot spot, every place that made him shiver and cry out, and he could feel his orgasm building, pressure in his balls, his belly, all along his spine.

"Tom!"

His body spasmed, every muscle tight as he came, his cock throbbing as he shot into Tom's mouth and throat, waves of pleasure coursing through him as Tom swallowed and kept sucking. Kept going gradually gentling his mouth, teasing every last shiver and shock from Oliver's body before devolving it into kisses and nuzzling. Eventually he looked up, eyes deep, his hands keeping up their gentle stoking.

"Love you."

And then Tom was tucking Oliver back into his pants and moving away slightly, although Tom's hand never quite left his skin.

Pulling himself upright, he reached for Tom, holding on as he found his balance, his body still shaking a little. Oliver curled around him, not letting him get away, holding onto his lover with everything he was, kissing his chest, his shoulders, his mouth.

He briefly considered their position, mostly still leaning against the tub, and shrugged. It wasn't the bed, but it didn't matter. Tom was everything. Oliver skated a hand over Tom's hip, still whispering love into Tom's mouth. When he took Tom's cock in his hand, felt the weight, the heat of it, they both gasped.

"Love you so much," he murmured. "Want to make you feel it, want you to know it." He stroked Tom lightly and encouraged him to stand up and lean on the wall. Moving broke their kiss, but his hand followed Tom's cock, winning another breathy gasp. Tom's fingers replaced his mouth, his thumb brushing Oliver's lower lip.

"I know," he whispered. "Love you." And then there was kissing again, the two of them flowing into each other, pressed close.

Oliver ran his free hand over Tom's hip and up his side. Skin, so soft. He thought of the moisturizer and grinned into the next kiss, then reached out for the tiny counter, fumbling until he could get the cream.

"Promised I'd make you see the joys of this, didn't I?" he asked with a wink. Then he opened the jar and scooped a liberal amount into his hand. Sinking to his knees he rubbed his hands together to warm the lotion, then started smoothing it over Tom's thighs, his hips, and up to his belly. Tom moved into the touches, hands finding Oliver's shoulder, tangling in his hair.

"You did. I'm starting to really like your promises." Tom was smiling, eyes bright without his glasses to hide behind. Private Tom, with his naked face filled with warmth and pleasure and all of it just for him.

Oliver smiled up at him, love for this man almost overwhelming him. His hands slid over Tom's flat belly then down to caress his balls, Tom's sweet cock hard for him, the foreskin retracted enough to expose the tip. With one more kiss to Tom's thigh Oliver turned his attention to making his love fly.

He stroked the inside of Tom's thigh gently with one slippery hand, the other fondling Tom's balls. When he began to lick up the length of Tom's cock he heard a throaty moan, which turned to a gasp as he lapped at the head of Tom's prick, picking up his flavour.

He could feel the muscles in Tom's leg sliding as his lover's hips arched at the touches.

"God, Oliver, you're amazing." Tom's words were interrupted by another gasp. Oliver tongued that spot again. "Fuck!." He relented, and Tom began to breathe again. "So good to me, love. Love your hands on me. Make me feel precious."

Those last words were mumbled, half swallowed in another moan, but when he looked up the long length of Tom's body there was a flush to his cheeks.

He let Tom's cock slide from his mouth for just long enough to say, "Love my hands on you." Then he started sucking again, taking Tom into his mouth slowly, letting his tongue tease all the way down his shaft. He slid his hands over Tom, pushing harder now as he touched inner thighs, his ass, his balls, and finally he began to tease at Tom's entrance, listening to Tom's increasingly incoherent words.

When Tom's hips began to thrust in jerky motions, forward into his mouth and back against his slippery fingers, he pushed slightly, working two fingers deep into Tom's ass. Hot and tight and so fucking good, he moaned around Tom's prick, felt his own cock hardening again.

They found a rhythm, Tom's hips rocking into his mouth and back on his fingers, Tom's fingers tightening and loosening on his shoulders. Small sounds that escaped Tom's bitten lips. So good, the two of them together, the taste and feel of his lover in his mouth, the slide of his slicked skin eager for Oliver's touch.

Oliver looked up, wanting to watch Tom's face in pleasure. Lost in those beautiful eyes, he moved his fingers inside Tom, stroking over his gland again and again, sucking harder, wanting nothing but for Tom to come, for Tom to soar.

His lover was beautiful like this, moaning and breathing hard, a flush rising up to pink his skin, his lower lip so very red from being bitten. Tom's eyes flew wide, the finger's against his neck froze, and the prick in his mouth pulsed. Oliver flickered his fingers.

"Oh god, going to come, Oliver!"

Oliver groaned, need and want making him hungry for it. He sucked harder and stroked Tom's gland again, moaning as Tom keened and came for him. He swallowed, fingers still moving. He drew out Tom's orgasm as much as he could, sucking and licking, fingers slowly easing in and out until Tom was shaking, almost curled over him.

Tom's panting breaths resolved into 'god' and 'love', and somehow they managed to move in the cramped space, Tom sliding down his body, their arms and legs tangling. The position was awkward, and between the humidity and the arousal they were both a little sticky, but Oliver couldn't bring himself to pull away just yet.

Tom's forehead moved away from his shoulder, and Tom's lips closed on his, soft, slow, 'love you' and 'thank you' and 'yours / mine' all transmitted through the slide of skin on skin, the taste of tongue on teeth. Oliver held him close, hands stroking Tom's back and arms, their kisses slow and gentle.

Finally he had to pull away, the real world insinuating itself via the beeping of his watch alarm.

"I'm going to be late," Oliver said, kissing Tom again. He made no move to get up.

"Late is bad." Tom mumbled into his mouth. Tom's caressing hands braced against his upper arms, holding them just about far enough apart to give higher brain functions a sporting chance. Tom shook his head slightly, a smile pulling at his mouth. "Did we promise not to get you fired?"

"I don't remember. But fired would be bad. Worse than being late." Oliver tried to steal another kiss.

"Heap big bad." Tom agreed, lips just brushing Oliver's own. "Which is the *only* reason I'm doing this."

And then Tom's hand was gone from his arm, being used to catch hold of the side of the tub and pulling them both towards upright again.

Oliver frowned. "Don't wanna go."

"But you have to. If you get fired they won't fly you back to visit again next month."

Tom had a point. A good point. Oliver sighed and kissed him again, hard, before stepping back. "Love you so much. I'll see you later."

Before Tom could reply Oliver caught sight of himself in the mirror, looking thoroughly rumpled and well fucked. "Oh, this is going to be a fun set of meetings," he said with a grin. "Brett's gonna have a field day."

His comb was pressed into his hand, and Tom's arm slid around his waist, tweaking his crooked tie.

"Sixty seconds to reduce the ammunition?"

"That'll take care of this," Oliver said, running the comb through his hair. "But I think I'll keep the dopey grin."

Mostly presentable again he turned around in Tom's arms and held his lover for a long moment. "I'll see you tonight," he whispered. "No goodbyes until then, yeah?"

Tom nodded. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck, love." Oliver kissed Tom once more and squeezed his eyes shut. "I gotta go."

He stepped back and forced himself to let go of Tom, cursing meetings and classes and presentations. He put his hand on the doorknob and paused, looking back. Tom was leaning against the dresser, his eyes dark, and his hands flat on the wooden surface.

"Go on - get. Don't get fired and I'll see you later, love."

As the door started to swing shut behind him, a hand caught it. "Love you," Tom whispered before letting it slide shut.

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