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Connor turns off the television and quietly sets down the remote.
The clock on the cable box reads 11:42 PM. A bit late for them considering he and Asher have to be in court in the morning, and Oliver has work. But given Asher’s current state, he’s desperate to do anything to distract the man. And if that means feeding him the contents of their liquor cabinet, and playing Halo 3 until his eyes want to roll out of his head, all to keep him from thinking about his dad’s suicide and Emily Sinclair’s murder and the subsequent cover up, then he’s willing to do it.
It doesn’t hurt that it helps keep his own mind off of things.
He glances over at the other man. Asher’s fallen asleep–or maybe he passed out–with his head on Connor’s shoulder. There’s already a puddle of drool soaking Connor’s shirt. Any other time and he’d think it was hilarious and take a picture for blackmailing purposes. But this isn’t funny. And there will never be a point when he looks back on this moment, and thinks that it’s funny.
So instead he carefully stands while maneuvering Asher into a somewhat comfortable position on the couch. Oliver’s already prepared with a pillow and a blanket in hand. Connor takes them from him and whispers a quiet ‘thank you’.
“Mmmm,” Asher mumbles when he’s moved, and his eyes open sluggishly to gaze up at him.
“Sorry to wake you,” Connor says softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Wait, drink this first,” Oliver hands him a glass of water.
“Oh yeah, you definitely don’t want to be hungover for court tomorrow.”
Asher sways on the couch, but Connor helps him hold the glass, and doesn’t pull away until the man has finished it.
“Thanks bro,” Asher murmurs.
Connor nods. “G’night man.”
His eyes meet Oliver’s as they head into the adjoining bedroom together. Oliver hadn’t exactly been ecstatic about the situation. Asher’s not his favorite person in the world, and having to babysit the man that’s currently sleeping on his couch isn’t really his idea of a good time.
But he’d reluctantly agreed at Connor’s insistence, which he’s thankful for.
“You’re a good friend,” Oliver says softly as Connor finally changes out of his day clothes. Oliver had already changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt earlier. Dealing with a drunk and depressed Asher is enough as it is, at the very least he’s going to be comfortable while doing it.
Connor looks incredulous and doubtful at that statement, but he still gives a small grin. “Are you sure you’re talking about me? I’ve never been called a good friend in my life.”
“Yeah. I mean it,” Oliver says softly. “It’s really nice what you’re doing for him.”
Well, he’s been through enough, Connor thinks to himself. We all have.
He’s exhausted. But given the events two weeks prior, there hasn’t been a single moment that’s gone by where he hasn’t felt exhausted and ready to collapse. He removes his dress shirt and throws it into the hamper. He’s undoing his pants when he catches Oliver’s gaze from where the man lies on the bed. The soft lighting from the bedside lamp is the only source of light in the room. But it’s enough to illuminate the look of desire on his face as he watches him undress.
Connor smirks at his boyfriend’s ever present libido.
Oliver holds out his hand, beckoning him to come closer.
Connor hesitates for a moment, a sly grin on his face. He loves making Oliver suffer in his own impatience. He stands in front of their dresser, in nothing but his boxer briefs, a soft white cotton t-shirt in his hand. While he usually sleeps in the nude, it’s probably not such a great idea when they have a guest.
Oliver continues to wave him closer. So Connor drops the shirt from his hand, and softly pads over to the bed. He climbs on as quietly as he can, and crawls forward until he’s straddling Oliver’s thighs.
He leans close until they’re breathing the same air. “I hope you’re not getting any ideas,” he whispers softly.
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “There’s another man in my home, being all close and cuddly with my boyfriend, laying his head on his shoulder…”
Connor scoffs. “He passed out and drooled on me.”
“Still…” Oliver murmurs. He reaches up and gently pulls Connor down with his fingers around his neck. Their lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s sweet and innocent, until Connor slowly parts his lips and Oliver slides his tongue inside. Their warm breaths become heavier. Oliver tightens the grip he has on the back of Connor’s neck, pulling him closer, and suddenly Connor feels his arousal through the soft material of his sweat pants.
He pulls back with a soft laugh. “We can’t do this,” he whispers, a grin on his lips.
“Of course we can,” Oliver whines softly. “A man should be able to do whatever he likes in his own home!”
Connor narrows his eyes skeptically. As much as he’d like to, the open layout of their apartment doesn’t afford them much privacy. They can easily see the back of the couch from where they are in the bed.
“Come on,” Oliver whispers. “We’ll be quiet, I promise.” His hands slip into the waistline of Connor’s boxer briefs, and he gives his ass a nice firm squeeze, causing the other man to giggle softly.
“Ollie, you know we’re never quiet.”
“Asher’s probably passed out from the booze anyway. He won’t wake up.”
Connor’s still hesitant. But then Oliver’s hands are firmly gripping his hips, and he lifts and scoots them down the bed until he’s laying on his back, Connor above him.
Connor grins widely. The soft light of the lamp beautifully illuminates Oliver’s features. He bears his hips down and grinds softly on Oliver’s lap. The other man moans softly, and bites down on his lower lip to quiet the sounds.
“Connor…”
Connor leans over and starts pressing soft kisses along Oliver’s jaw, until he reaches his neck, and the other man shivers from the sensation. Connor’s eager fingers lift the hem of Oliver’s t-shirt to stroke the firm muscles of his abdomen. He starts down his throat, and then licks along his collarbone as Oliver gasps beneath him. Oliver’s chest heaves up and down as Connor continues sucking softly at his skin.
His thighs start aching from his position so he raises himself up on his knees. And he inches lower, lifting the other man’s shirt to press kisses down his chest. He’s just reached Oliver’s belly, on his elbows and knees, ass in the air, when–
“What are you guys doing?”
They both jump nearly a foot in the air at the sound of the new voice.
“Asher! Wh-what–what are you–” Connor stutters embarrassingly while he grabs for the covers to place over himself and Oliver, who looks so furious it’d be hilarious if Connor wasn’t so damn embarrassed about being caught in their situation.
Oliver’s arousal is somehow still noticeable through the sheets and Connor hesitantly tries to fluff the covers in an attempt to hide it.
“You guys were about to do the hanky panky.”
Connor licks his dry lips while the tips of his ears turn red. “What do you want, Asher?” He asks through gritted teeth.
“I’m just using the bathroom bro,” he says, pointing at the aforementioned room that’s located in their bedroom. He doesn’t make any attempt to step into the room though, electing instead to stand in the entryway awkwardly. “Soooo… how’s it work with you two? Like who puts it where?”
“What the fuck?” Connor shrieks while Oliver rolls his eyes and lets out a loud, exasperated breath. “That–that’s none of your business, Asher!”
“I’m just curious,” he shrugs. “We’re bros! We should be able to talk about this stuff–”
“No! Just go use the bathroom!” He points at it emphatically with his finger. “Please?!”
Asher shrugs and walks through their room into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click.
“Oh my god,” Connor groans, as he drops his head into his hands. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“I can,” Oliver mutters dryly.
“Sorry,” Connor whispers. “You want to just go to bed?”
Oliver grumbles to himself before reaching over and cupping the side of Connor’s face, pressing them close for a kiss. He still looks dejected when they part.
“Has little Oliver gone away yet?” Connor asks teasingly.
Oliver groans as he lies down, settling himself into the sheets. “Well he’s certainly little again.
Connor laughs softly and reaches over to click the bedside lamp off.
A few moments later the bathroom door opens and Asher clumsily makes his way back to the couch in the dark.
“Goodnight, my bromos,” Asher whispers as he passes them.
If Connor rolled his eyes any harder, they’d probably get stuck in his head.