Page 72 of Our Own Light

All of a sudden, Oliver’s stomach was no longer twisting unpleasantly, but somersaulting in an exciting sort of way, his yearning for sexual contact finally overtaking his sense of shame. Even though Oliver wanted to stay upset and wallow in his inadequacy, Floyd continued to move his hand, stoking the fire of yearning.

“I like you so much, Ollie. I’m so hard for you.”

Oliver’s cock began to throb, but still, he had trouble forming a response, unable to stand to repeat the only two Goddamn words he had been capable of saying before.

Seconds passed until finally Floyd paused and asked, “Do you still want this right now?”

God, the way Floyd’s voice was thick with sadness, it nearly broke Oliver’s heart. Thankfully, the heaviness of Floyd’s sadness managed to shatter Oliver’s verbal blockage along with it.

“Of course I want this,” Oliver said. “Just, well, I’m embarrassed.”

“About what?”

“About how much I want this. About how much I want you.”

“Are you worried you want me more than I want you?”

“Yes,” Oliver said, shame warming his cheeks once more. “It’s silly, I know.”

“It ain’t silly,” Floyd said, moving Oliver’s hand up and down. “That’s for you, Ollie. Only for you. I barely even touched myself for years before I met you. I want you just as bad as you want me. I promise.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that. Having you... eff me through those nice silky drawers of yours is real exciting to me.” Floyd smiled up at him. “I like you a lot, Ollie. I want to take our time with these kinds of things, is all.”

Oliver tried to let Floyd’s words sink in. Over and over, he repeated them to himself, chiseling them into his mind, hoping to sanctify them, to etch them onto a stone tablet, for Floyd’s words seemed more precious, more important than even the word of God.

“Are you feeling better now?” Floyd asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” Oliver said. “Sweetheart, there are so many things I want to try with you someday.”

Floyd hummed appreciatively. “Can I hear some of them fantasies?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, nuzzling Floyd’s nose. “I want to lick you. No, better, I want to devour you. I want to make you finish with my mouth, to consume every drop.” Oliver started peppering kisses along Floyd’s cheek and jaw. “Do you ever think about that? About me using my mouth on you?”

“Mm-hmm.” Kissing Floyd’s neck, Oliver could feel him swallow. “When I touch myself, I imagine you making me come like that. I want to make you come like that, too.”

Oliver’s half-hard cock began to stiffen again. He shifted his weight and rocked his hips.

“I want to fuck you, Floyd. God, I want to fuck you so bad.”

“I want that, too.”

“Yeah? You wouldn’t rather be inside of me instead?”

“No,” Floyd said with a certainty that sent shivers up Oliver’s spine. “I want you to take me, to show me I’m yours. I want you to make me yours.”

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” Oliver said, moving his hips. “I will.”

He moved faster, pressing his erection against Floyd’s thigh with each thrust, the sensation momentarily making his breath catch in his throat. Imagining what it would be like to feel Floyd’s muscles clenching around his cock, Oliver clutched tight to Floyd’s shoulder, steadying himself so that he could thrust harder, and in doing so inadvertently sunk his fingernails into Floyd’s skin, his mistake then making Floyd suck in a breath through his teeth.

“Sorry,” Oliver said, only then realizing that by focusing so much on massaging his own cock against Floyd’s thigh, he had been neglecting to focus on Floyd at all. “Do you want me to shift my position?”

“Nah, I want to watch you finish yourself.”

“I want you to come, too.”

“We’ll worry about me later. You take what you need, Ollie.”

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