Work Text:
“You okay?” Oliver whispers, as he gazes up at the other man. He’s propped up on a few pillows, and he suddenly realizes his fingers are tightly gripping Connor’s waist–probably enough to hurt and leave bruises. He immediately relaxes his grip. Connor’s body is warm and achingly tight around him, and it takes every fiber of willpower in him to not grip the other man’s hips and start thrusting upwards, fucking him silly until they’re both cumming and spasming in ecstasy.
But no. He wants Connor to do the work this time.
Connor moans softly. He’s fully seated and still adjusting to the feeling of being completely filled. His head is tilted back, eyes closed, and he feels Oliver’s fingers gently stroke down his neck, across his collarbone, and then flutter down his chest and abdomen. He drops his head down to look at the other man, and the air in the room changes when their eyes meet. Suddenly it’s electrifying, the desire and the sensations are overwhelming, and it becomes achingly painful to keep still.
They’re both panting already and they’ve barely just begun.
Connor rolls his hips, and the motion of it causes Oliver’s cock to brush against his prostate. He gasps and jerks and his hands come forward to splay across Oliver’s ribcage–he needs something to hold on to. He arches his back and lifts his hips, just enough to bring them slamming down again.
He keeps going, speeding up his motions–up and down, harder and harder–until Oliver grips his hips firmly, stalling his movements.
“Slow down,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can.
Connor whimpers softly. He doesn’t want to slow down. He rolls his hips again, grinding against Oliver’s body, and forces a moan out of the other man’s lips.
And they keep going like that. Connor rides his cock at a steady pace, until he can’t help it, and predictably starts speeding up his motions. And Oliver has to tell him to slow down once again. He wants this to last as long as they can possibly go, because Connor is a gorgeous vision from this angle–from every angle, really. But here, and now, Oliver drinks in the sight of his lover, head tilted back towards the ceiling, chest trembling, and filthy, carnal gasps spill from his lips. There’s a glistening sheen of sweat covering him, the muscles of his abdomen tremor and shake as he rides him in a beautiful rhythmic wave.
Connor removes one of his hands from Oliver’s chest where he had been anchoring them, and starts stroking his hard, leaking cock.
“No no no,” Oliver says softly, and he gathers both of Connor’s hands in his own, holding them tight. “I want you to cum without touching yourself,” he gasps.
Connor keens softly, he whines and moans, aching for his release. But he has no choice but to comply. He keeps up the frantic motions of his hips–up and down, harder and harder–as he fucks himself on Oliver’s cock.
“Yeah, yeah that’s it,” Oliver whispers up at him. “God you’re so good baby.”
Oliver continues to grip his wrists. And Connor gasps, unable to touch himself, but he’s so close, he’s right at the edge. So he sobs, as he continues to heave and undulate on Oliver’s cock. It rubs against his prostate every time, again and again. He’s right there, he’s so close…
Up and down, harder and harder…
Oliver gasps as he watches his lover’s face, twisted in gorgeous, breathtaking agony. He moans, embarrassingly loud, as he tries desperately to remember every detail of this moment, seconds before Connor tightens and clenches around him, and they climax together, shaking, gasping, riding out the tremors of their orgasm together.
Connor whimpers when it’s over. He trembles, far too sensitive. Oliver finally releases his wrists, and any remaining strength he may have had gives out, and he collapses forward, where Oliver catches him in his arms.
They’re both silent for a moment, except for the sounds of them catching their breaths.
“We should do that one more often,” Oliver finally says gently.
“Of course you’d say that,” Connor murmurs, a soft smirk on his lips. “I did all the work.”
Oliver laughs softly and tightens his arms around the other man. He can feel the warm, sticky mess Connor made between their bodies. But Connor makes no moves to get off him.
“Are we going to fall asleep like this?” Oliver asks quietly.
“Mmmm… too tired to move…” Connor murmurs.
Oliver glances down at him. Connor’s eyes are closed, and it seems he may actually fall asleep in this position. Oliver grins softly, and after a while, he gently rolls them over, depositing Connor onto the mattress on his back. He carefully pulls out of him, discards the used condom in the trash, and grabs a few tissues to clean up the mess. Connor doesn’t move an inch, completely dead to the world.
Oliver finally reaches over and turns off the light next to their bed. Sleep should come pretty easy that night.