by Laura Stone
Seth draped the towel over the top of an empty box and crawled across the bed on his hands and knees, already half hard, a knowing, naughty grin on his face. “Mm hmm. Want to know why?”
He straddled Oliver’s waist, using the headboard for leverage as he bent down to kiss Oliver, his mouth hot and wet and needy. Oliver’s head was swimming; Seth’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and his body was warm and still slightly shower-damp. Seth grabbed Oliver’s hand and brought it down his body. When Oliver made to curl his fingers around Seth’s cock, he laughed softly against Oliver’s lips, saying, “No.”
He slid Oliver’s hand lower, dragging the pads of Oliver’s fingers over his already-stretched entrance and exhaled over Oliver’s parted lips as Oliver’s brain caught up. Oliver groaned against Seth’s mouth as two fingers slid in, hot and tight, but easily.
“Oh my God,” Oliver moaned.
Seth moved to lay next to Oliver, snapping the waistband of Oliver’s striped briefs. “Very nice,” he said, kissing Oliver thoroughly before saying, “Now get them off.”
Not quite in control of all of his faculties, Oliver did manage to raise his hips to allow Seth to pull them down his legs. God, it had been months, and before that, years, since Seth bottomed. Oliver pulled Seth back flush against his body, his hands gripping Seth’s round ass and kneading it, grinding their bodies together, not wanting to be apart for even a second.
Seth sucked Oliver’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back with a wordless groan Oliver thought sounded quite intelligent, given that at the moment he would have had trouble remembering most of the alphabet. Seth had the tiny bottle of lubricant in his hand; he grabbed one of Oliver’s and kissed the palm, his eyes closing on contact. Then he popped the lid off the bottle and squeezed a generous amount across three of Oliver’s fingers.
“Jesus… I—” Seth stopped Oliver’s brilliant soliloquy with another searing kiss while guiding Oliver’s lubricated hand between his legs.
“It’s been months. I need you,” Seth exhaled, his voice high and breathy as he started to ride Oliver’s fingers.
“I need you, too. Oh my God, ” Oliver moaned, pressing his face into Seth’s neck to anchor himself. The need to feel Seth’s body against his radiated from the marrow of his bones. This was the sort of thing that must lead to people dying during sex, Oliver thought. He was pretty sure that his heart had stopped and he was incapable of breathing, and all he could focus on was the tight, slick heat currently engulfing the fingers of his right hand. That and the unbelievable image of Seth leaning over him, hair hanging down and tickling Oliver’s face as he gasped and moaned.
“Hips.”
“Hunh?” Oliver asked, arching up and trying to get Seth’s lips back on his again, but Seth had twisted away, reaching for something.
He turned back and had a spare towel in his hands. “Hips,” he said again, his voice becoming reedy and frantic as he pushed on Oliver’s leg. Oh. Right. Oliver raised himself up enough for Seth to slide a towel under their bodies.
Thankfully, Seth came back to kiss him, his tongue sliding and stroking against Oliver’s. “I want you, but I want to sleep on a clean bed, after.” Seth kissed along Oliver’s neck to his ear, whispering, “I really fucking want you right now, Oliver.”
“You’re going to kill me.” Oliver pushed up on his elbows, sliding backwards to rest against the headboard. He held his hand out and pulled Seth into his lap, his breath rushing out all at once at Seth’s moan when their bodies made contact again. Oliver held him close, kissing his neck and thrilling at the desperate, breathy noises he was making. He thrilled, too, at the fact that only he had the pleasure of getting Seth to make those noises.
“Please,” Seth whined, pushing back with his hips and grinding against Oliver. He held himself still as Seth sank down slowly over him, overcome by the way their bodies fit together and how amazing Seth felt on top of him and in his arms, his sweat-slick muscles and skin moving under Oliver’s hands.
He held Seth still for a moment, his forehead against Seth’s sternum, willing his brain to catch up with his body. Seth ran his palms up Oliver’s arms and shoulders, tipped his head back and drew his lips softly, back and forth, over Oliver’s mouth.
“Are you with me?” Seth asked, his voice husky and desperate.
Oliver caught his breath. “Yes,” he said, his hands gripping Seth’s hips. He kissed Seth fervently, communicating that there was no question he was here not just for the moment, but for always.
As Oliver grabbed Seth’s hips, rocking him up and down, angling his hips just so, Seth’s chin dropped down and he inhaled sharply. “Oh, f-fuck, Oliver—just th—” Seth stammered.
Oliver’s breath came out closer to a growl as he redoubled his efforts. God, he fucking loved it when Seth couldn’t get a word out because of what Oliver was doing to him—he flashed to the first time he’d brought Seth off like this, years before, when Seth came home from New York and they were so desperate to be together.
That first time, Seth had said he wanted to feel Oliver inside of him, and Oliver, who had been wound up for weeks anticipating Seth’s arrival, had almost come just when he asked for it. Once he had Seth over him, and he felt that incredible heat wrapped around him so fucking tight and amazing—he was inside his boyfriend—Seth had cried out his name, his voice breaking, and that image of Seth sweaty, completely undone to the point of not being able to say Oliver’s name in the end, was burned into his memory.
Back then, Oliver was young and stupid and so, so in love.
Now, Seth’s head dropped back and his Adam’s apple worked as he rose and sank rhythmically over Oliver, and Oliver realized that nothing had changed. Well, he wasn’t as young as he once was, but he was still so, so stupidly in love.
He tried to last, wanted to last as long as he could for him, but it had been months and Seth was there, in his arms, his face flushed with pleasure, his body slick with sweat, and it was just like that first time and it was just too much, the memories tripping over reality.
He held Seth’s cock in his hand and sucked on the spot just to the right of Seth’s Adam’s apple that he knew—learned in the back of Seth’s car the summer before his senior year of high school—was incredibly sensitive and was rewarded by Seth beginning to gasp, “Oliver,” with every rock, felt Seth trembling under his hand at the small of his back—the first time they had sex Seth had turned away to pull his shirt off and his undershirt rode up and Oliver could see one prominent freckle just above the waistband of Seth’s jeans—and it was just too much. He pressed his cheek against Seth’s sternum, thrusting desperately up into Seth’s body, his hand loose but still working around him.
His orgasm didn’t have a slow build; it rocketed through his entire body as he clutched Seth’s ass, his mouth working helplessly along Seth’s collarbone. He gasped as Seth wrapped his arms around him, feeling completely enveloped by him and the memories of all the times they’d been like this. As he pulsed deep inside Seth’s body, his hand jacked Seth more firmly, his thumb working back and forth over the groove on the underside of the head of Seth’s cock—I love it when you hold me tight, Oliver; oh my God, just there—and it was enough to get Seth to join him as he cried out Oliver’s name brokenly through his own orgasm.
They held each other as their breathing slowed to something closer to normal. Oliver wanted Seth’s lips on his; fortunately Seth had the same idea, and his lips kissed Oliver’s cheeks, eyelids, the corner of his mouth.
After a moment of reassurances, Oliver collapsed back against the headboard with a sated grin. It was a better view of his boyfriend, anyway.
Seth laughed, running the palm of his hand over Oliver’s belly, his fingers raking through the come splattered in the dark hair below Oliver’s navel. “I made a mess of you.”
“Yeah?” Oliver saw amusement, exhaustion and a whole lot of satisfaction, thanks very much, when he looked up at Seth. “I can honestly say that I don’t mind,” Olive
r chuckled.
Seth leaned in once more to press his lips against Oliver’s, murmur, “Mm, love you, babe,” and nuzzle his cheek against Oliver’s. He pulled back and used the spare towel to clean them up quickly. Looking around the room, Seth sighed, made a face and tossed the towel into an empty box. “Remind me to get us a laundry hamper first thing tomorrow.”
Oliver scooted down into the bedding, still feeling high and giddy from his orgasm, and said, “Check. We need a hamper.”
We.
He didn’t think he’d get tired of hearing that, ever. Seth crossed the room again to shut off the light, and that’s when Oliver noticed the small, framed picture on the end table on Seth’s side. Seth’s graduation picture from Bakerfield, the one in which Oliver had his arms around him, kissing him passionately. The one Oliver had seen in Seth’s bedroom on New Year’s Day.
“Seth, that’s—” Oliver felt something click inside him, like another piece of their relationship was falling back into place. “That picture.”
“Hmm?” Seth turned to look, and turned back blushing and bashful. “Is that dumb? I know it’s probably cheesy to have a high school graduation picture up.”
Oliver pulled Seth to him and sighed happily into his hair. “No. Not to me. I love that picture.”
Seth, his hand on the center of Oliver’s chest, pushed up enough to look Oliver in the eyes. “You do?” He snuggled back down against him. “Me, too.”
Oliver closed his eyes and pressed his nose into the crown of Seth’s hair, just breathing him in. “Why that picture? I know why I like it; I just want to know why you do.”
Seth was quiet for a moment, his fingers plucking gently at the dark hair on Oliver’s forearms and then smoothing it. “That was my reminder. Well, proof.”
“Proof?”
Seth sighed, pressing his lips just over Oliver’s heart. “That we did love each other. That I hadn’t imagined it.”
The wistfulness in his voice made Oliver’s arms tighten convulsively, and he kissed Seth’s hair again. “We did. We do. Why do you think I kept every letter you ever wrote me?”
Seth hummed softly and said, “I know. I know now.” His voice grew even quieter. “But I wondered back then, after—well. I wondered if you really had loved me, or if I had made it up. And when I felt like that, I would look at that picture and—God, it feels narcissistic to say why.”
“No, please. I want to know,” Oliver pleaded.
“I would look at that picture and know that you had really loved me: it’s clear, don’t you think? That someone loved me once. That it was you.”
Oliver tipped Seth’s chin so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Seth’s skin was almost luminescent in the moonlight. “I never stopped, Seth. I never will.”
He kissed Seth so sweetly, then, the kiss serving as a promise that the love they’d had was still there and would only grow through the years. Seth pressed their foreheads together and nuzzling Oliver’s nose with his own.
They settled back against the mattress, yawning and chuckling at how tired they were from such a long day.
“Tomorrow we can empty out the boxes your mother sent, if you like. I’m dying to know what Andrews treasures are about to adorn our home,” Seth said, kissing just under Oliver’s jaw and wiggling to get situated just right in Oliver’s arms.
“She did?”
“You didn’t see them? They’re by your side of the bed against the wall.”
He twisted slightly to see what Seth was talking about. A familiar box with shaky handwriting on it that read “Oliver’s H.S. Things” was on the bottom.
Seth said around a yawn, “If it’s your old school uniform, I demand that you put it on first thing in the morning and woo me.”
Oliver sank back into the pillows, smiling. He caressed Seth’s hair, feeling sated and sleepy and listening to the pleasant, fading murmurs from Seth as he fell asleep in Oliver’s arms. The moonlight cast a thin beam of silver across their bed, running along Oliver’s arm as it covered Seth’s. He closed his eyes, rested his cheek on Seth’s head and remembered a book that contained two dried, pressed flower buds that he’d put in that very box years before.
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night.
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined towards me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.
* * *
JUNE, SIX YEARS LATER
Oliver pushed open the door to their apartment, glad to be finished with school and work for the week; he had big plans for the weekend, including enjoying the entirety of it with Seth. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy himself at Silver; it had proved challenging in the best of ways. It was just hectic, but coming home to Seth every night, well, Seth coming home to him every night was the icing on the cake.
He fished his wallet and phone out of his coat pocket and was about to drop them and his keys in the bowl on the console in the entryway when he realized that the bowl wasn’t there. It was a blown glass plate. Well, Seth did like to change things around—it was something Oliver found both adorable and maddening. Just when he was getting used to a system, Seth decided the feng shui was off and swapped things around.
Feeling butterflies over the excitement he had planned for later, he called out coyly, “Seth?”
No answer. Well, he may simply have run to the market for something special for dinner, that wasn’t unusual. Oliver pushed his satchel under the table with his foot and loosened his tie as he walked into the apartment.
“Can I help you?”
Oliver started, a creepy-crawly sensation running down his spine. Some strange guy was standing in the kitchen. In Oliver’s kitchen.
“I think I can ask you that?” he said warily.
The guy tilted his head, a quizzical look on his face, and then a look of understanding washed over his features. “Right. You must be Oliver.”
That was when Oliver noticed a toolbox in the kitchen by the sink and he let himself exhale.
“Yeah, your… what, boyfriend? He told me that an ‘Oliver’ might come home before he did, but I must have spaced.” He turned back into the kitchen and continued, “Almost got this new disposal in for you; I’ll be out of your hair in less than ten.”
The guy crawled back under the sink, and Oliver took a moment to catch his breath. He had the eeriest sense of déjà vu. He shook himself and moved off to the bedroom where he toed off his shoes, put them on the cedar shoe racks Seth had insisted on and laid his jacket on the bed.
He laughed, wondering why he had felt weird all of a sudden. Perhaps he was just jumpy. He was home, though, and Seth would be home soon, and then Oliver could finally relax. He noticed that Seth had brought the mail into the bedroom but dumped it on the side table. He scooped it up and set it on the dresser to be sorted through later. Sitting on the foot of the bed to pull off his socks, he felt the lump in his jeans pocket and drew out a small velvet box; he looked around the bedroom and decided to hide it under the pillows on his side of the bed.
As he hung up his coat, he heard the front door open and felt a sense of peace and anticipation rush through him at the familiar sound of Seth’s key ring jangling as he pulled it from the lock.
“Oliver? Oh, hi, Joe. Almost finished?”
Seth was home. Oliver felt a little giddy, thinking about his big plans for the weekend. He had talked to Big Mike on the phone the night before while Seth was at the workshop for his new musical, and both of them had gotten a little choked up.
“Seth? I’m in the bedroom,” he called out, trying to keep his voice from giving away how excited he was.
He heard Seth thank Joe and then the front door opened and closed again and they were finally alone. Oliver lay down on the bed on his stomach, his eyes closing with the enjoyment of stretching out after his long day. He turned his head sideways and watched the doorway for Seth to appear.
Seth
came in the bedroom, all smiles.
“Hi!” Seth said. “Done for the weekend?”
“Yep.” Oliver patted the bed next to him with a smile to match Seth’s. He never got tired of it—Seth coming home, maybe exhausted, sore, or frustrated, but always with a smile for Oliver, and Oliver had one for Seth in return. Always.
Seth stretched out with a groan, throwing his arms high above his head and arching his back. Then he flopped to the bed with a sigh. Oliver lifted his head enough to drop a kiss on Seth’s mouth. Seth reached up with one hand and held him there a bit longer, giving him a more thorough kiss.
“Mm. Hello,” Seth murmured against Oliver’s lips.
Oliver pulled back a touch and said, “Thanks for calling someone for that.”
Seth narrowed his eyes, even though he was still smiling. “Hmm. If I left it to you, it never would have been repaired. Joe told me that it looked as if you were using the disposal for a compost pile; you know we’re lucky to even have one. How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t put coffee grounds in there?”
Oliver pressed his forehead against the mattress next to Seth’s shoulder and looked up at Seth with forgive-me eyes.
“Honestly, Oliver,” Seth laughed. “The trashcan is right next to the sink.”
“Sorry.”
Seth was so easy with his forgiveness. They both were. After these years of living together, their love had flourished and grown with the care and honor they both paid to it; they knew what it was like to live without that love, and Oliver could never imagine a day without this man in his life, cherishing him just as much as he cherished Seth.
“So, do we have any plans?” Seth asked, and kissed Oliver on the cheek.
Oliver propped himself on his side and smiled. Even though his insides were bubbling with excitement for what was to come, he also felt completely at peace with this man. Safe. Secure. So, so loved. Seth was the other part of him, one he could never do without again. He was looking forward to making it official.