Page 8 of In Too Deep

“If you’re tired, we can just go to bed, or...” Oli’s voice drops nearly an entire octave as he stares me down, and my mouth suddenly dries.

I don’t wait for him to continue, vaulting over the sofa until I’m in front of him, and my hand is in his hair, dragging his lips down to mine.

Oliver growls into our kiss, taking control and maneuvering us until my back hits the plaster wall, forcing my mouth open on a gasp. Just like on the ice, Oliver seizes his opening, plunging his tongue in deep for a moment before backing off. His scent takes a turn for the spicy, saffron mixing with bergamot and leather, even as he takes my jaw in his hands, holding me in place. My head spins, and I have to pull away to breathe for just a moment, but Oli trails kisses to my ear, his chest rumbling in a deep purr.

“You have a five second head start. If I don’t find you naked in bed, your ass in the air for me, then you’re gonna have a few hand-shaped bruises to explain to the trainers when we get back,” Oliver snarls, biting the tender patch of skin behind my ear to punctuate his point.

And then he steps back, staring me down with enough heat to light the building on fire. Panting and debating, I stand there. It’s been too long since I’ve had a chance to play properly with my lover, but he doesn’t make a threat like that idly. And with the way he’s looking at me, like a starving man might stare at a fully stocked buffet, I’m sure he’d wake up the entire island in his attempt to follow through.

“One,” he growls, and my body works before my brain, taking off down the hallway opposite the one Spencer and Tori went through.

I’m not wearing much, but I don’t have the time to care about how the material of my shirt, pants, and boxer briefs comes off, just that it ends up on the floor every few steps that I take heading for the bedroom. I’m hopping on one foot to get my pants off when I hear Oliver’s footsteps approaching behind me. I land hard on my back, my heart pounding as I finally untangle my foot from my pant leg and turn over onto my stomach, getting my knees under me just in time.

“Good boy,” Oliver purrs, his voice coming from closer than I would have anticipated.

His touch on the curve of my ass makes me jump, as does the snap of a cap and the cold shock of lube hitting my asshole. I gasp and arch, but that earns a hard crack of his hand against the meat of my glute in correction.

“Not wasting any time, are we?” I try to joke, only the words come out in a breathy whine that undermines the casual tone I’d been attempting.

“It’s been too long since I got to fuck you properly in a bed. Forgive me for not wanting to dillydally,” Oliver replies, his tone flat.

My laugh morphs into a moan as the tip of his thick finger breeches the tight ring of muscle for the first time. He’s not kidding about how long it’s been since he fucked me. We’d had some time together during Tori’s pseudo-heat, but we were both focused on making sure Tori had everything she needed. Our own pleasure was secondary, but tonight, I can feel the weight of Oliver’s entire focus on my back like the warmest weighted blanket in the middle of a Swedish winter.

He takes his time to work the lube into me, and I close my eyes to sink further into the sensations. The glide of one fingerand then two in and out of my puckered entrance, the reassuring brushes of his other hand up and down my back, across my ass, massaging the tight muscles of my thighs. I’m boneless and tingly, my chest almost fusing with the mattress even as my cock bobs heavily between my spread legs.

“Such a good boy for me. Always so eager for a cock in this ass,” Oliver praises, and I whine as he presses a third finger in with the first two.

“Yesss,” I hiss as I meet the thrust of his hand with my hips.

“You could come like this, couldn’t you? Maybe I should milk you dry for our omega sometime, and then you can use your mouth to put your jizz into her perfect pussy. How does that sound?” Oliver asks.

I moan, my cock twitching and throbbing. It would be perfect if Tori was in front of me right now, my nose pressed into the apex of her thighs rather than the duvet. I nod mindlessly, gripping the fabric beneath me for dear life.

“Maybe we can try something like that before we leave. But for tonight, you’re all mine,” Oliver says, the claim coming out in a harsh growl as he spears my prostate with a finger, making me arch with a shouted curse.

He strokes the sweet spot twice, each time making me see stars and my spine tingling with the first hints of my climax. But then he pulls away, leaving me open and aching and clenching on air.

“On your back, head on the pillows for me,” Oliver orders with a smack on my ass for encouragement.

I scramble to obey, spreading my legs wide as I wait for him to tell me what to do next. I realize then that he’s naked, too, the growing light catching on his very erect cock as he climbs into bed. He prowls across the mattress, settling into the cradle of my hips, his tip brushing against my hole, teasing me again.

“Regardez-moi,”1 Oli purrs, one hand coming up to my jaw again.

As my eyes meet his, I melt at the bald emotion staring back at me. I was raised in a large polycule, taught that it is entirely possible for a person to love more than one partner equally. But with Oliver’s past, I worry sometimes that this might be too much, too fast. That he might have a crisis of faith with our relationship once we’ve gotten Tori on board with what we need. But then he looks at me like he is now, like I’ve hung every star in the sky and have the moon on a string for him alone, and my heart settles.

“I love you,” I whisper, reaching between us to slot Oliver’s cock where it belongs.

Oliver thrusts forward smoothly, not stopping until the bulge of his growing knot is flush with my ass cheeks. He stills, resting his forehead against mine. Basking in the fullness and completeness this brings to my soul, I breathe him in.

“Je t’aime plus que la vie,”2 he replies, his words shaking with the depth of emotion.

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat as I tilt my hips, earning a gasp from deep in his chest. That seems to pull him out of his reverie, and he moves on his own. I’d expected a frenzied claiming, to be fucked into the mattress until I couldn’t walk straight. But instead, Oliver is tender with me, moving languidly until we’re both yearning for more. He lets me scratch his back as he speeds up, and my head spins with the pleasure of it. I can feel my peak coming, but not fast enough. I need more.

But I don’t even get the chance to voice it. Oliver knows me better than anyone else and can read me from across a crowded room. So I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows when I need a hand to get to that finish line. The hand not resting around my throat snakes between us to stroke my cock in time with his thrusts, making me moan like a porn star.

“I’m close, so fucking close,” Oliver grunts into my ear, his hips losing their steady rhythm in favor of something a little more frenzied.

Nodding, I try to catch my breath enough to reply. But I’m right there with him, sheer force of will the only thing keeping me from blowing my load in his talented hand.

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