Page 67 of Our Own Light

Holy heck, Ollie was so stinkin’ funny. He was witty and smart and unique and strange and so many other words, words that only Ollie would think of because Ollie knew a lot of them. And Floyd loved that about him. He loved that Ollie was different. So, yeah, maybe Ollie was a little like that silly, unreadable coin. But Floyd loved that coin. And Floyd thought that, well, maybe he was starting to love Ollie, too.

“Ollie,” Floyd said, snapping the coin book shut and setting it on the coffee table. “Don’t insult yourself like that. I know you’re trying to be funny, and you are funny, but you’re so many other things, too. Wonderful things.”

Ollie let out a long breath. “Thank you, Floyd. I know I’m not supposed to say things like that anymore, but, well, I’ve been saying them for what feels like my whole life. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“I know, but you’re wonderful, Ollie. You’re funny and fun and kind and handsome. And I like you so much.” Floyd reached up to cup Ollie’s cheek. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yeah?” Ollie said, raising both of his eyebrows in surprise. “Alright, yeah, of course.”

Heart pounding, Floyd leaned in close, stopping when their noses only barely touched. He waited, silent and still, for the snake to bite him. But there was nothing. Only Ollie’s soft breathing. Floyd was close enough that he could feel the little puffs of warmth with each of Ollie’s exhales. He could smell the sweet smell of sweat clinging to Ollie’s skin, too. Closing his eyes, Floyd waited for fear or shame or sadness. But still, there was nothing. Nothing except want. He wanted to kiss Ollie. He wanted it so much.

Slowly, Floyd nuzzled Ollie’s nose, savoring every moment of this beautiful closeness. Ollie sighed sweetly and that little sound provided the nudge Floyd needed to touch their lips together.

So he did.

They kissed. And kissed. And kissed. And when their tongues brushed against one another’s, Ollie sighed again, and Floyd thought that he could listen to that tiny sound forever, like it alone would fill him and keep him whole and happy and alive.

Ollie’s hand found Floyd’s thigh, sending little tremors of want coursing through his body, making him shudder.

“Oh God, Floyd,” Ollie murmured between kisses. “I want you.”

Ollie saying those words was like him igniting a blasting cap. Without a second more hesitation, Floyd let his other hand fall to Ollie’s waist, and then, in a flash, he pulled Ollie onto his lap. As soon as Ollie was settled, he started to rock his hips. Feeling Ollie’s hardness pressing up against him, Floyd’s own cock stiffened too.

With a needy whimper, Ollie continued rolling his hips and said, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Floyd’s cock twitched, and only a few thrusts later, it was practically throbbing with need. He knew that they ought to stop. He knew they ought to wait—for real love confessions, maybe, or, heck, even only for more privacy—but he couldn’t make himself stop. He couldn’t make himself wait. Floyd moved backward to lie back on the couch, pulling Ollie with him. Once Ollie settled on top of him, he started rolling his hips some more, and Floyd moaned into his mouth.

Breaking their kiss, Floyd whispered, “Ollie, you made me so hard.”

“Can you come like this?” Ollie whispered back, continuing to rock against him.

“Yeah. You?”

“God, yes,” Ollie said, and Floyd could feel him pressing more firmly with each thrust. “I’m so close.”

Floyd had to fight to contain a moan, his body burning for release. Each thrust of Ollie’s hips was bringing him closer to the edge, and soon, there came that familiar tingling sensation, the one that meant he was close.

“Almost,” Floyd rasped, his voice low and husky.

Ollie clutched onto Floyd’s shoulders. His thrusts became harder, rougher. Feeling Ollie’s strong hands pressing against him, firmly holding him in place, Floyd let out a pleased grunt. He was surprised to find that he liked the way Ollie was on top of him like this. Liked the way Ollie was in control. Gosh, it felt so right. He’d let Ollie keep thrusting with whatever pace and intensity he wanted.

That’s it, Ollie, Floyd wanted to say, but embarrassment held him back. He hadn’t never been this intimate with someone before.

More and more strange comments flitted into Floyd’s mind, but he couldn’t make himself say none of them out loud. Still, Floyd said them in his head, enjoying the fantasy of it.

That’s right, I’m yours. Show me I belong to you.

Ollie kept thrusting.

Make me finish for you.

With Ollie’s next thrust, Floyd bucked his hips and came. One low, hushed moan escaped his lips.

“Jesus, Floyd,” Ollie whispered, moving his hips faster.

Seconds later, Floyd felt Ollie’s body shudder and cut off Ollie’s accompanying moan with a kiss. They continued to kiss for a while longer, love-drunk and spent and happy. Overcome with a fierce tenderness, Floyd reached up and ran a hand through Ollie’s beautiful, soft hair. Ollie smiled against his lips. And Floyd smiled too.

But their untroubled bliss was short-lived. Because finally Floyd had the sense to remember where they were. Carefully, he pushed against Ollie’s shoulders, breaking them apart. They sat up.

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