[He realizes those were the wrong words to say even before the hurt look breaks over Oliver's face, and his own grin recedes into worry as the moment he had been so intent on preserving begins to crumble in his own hands.]
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way-- [He groans and screws his eyes shut.] I'm an asshole. All I meant is...
[His hands rush to soothe Oliver, massaging from the ridges of his shoulder blades to the top of his shoulders, convincing him not to flee too hastily.]
I really did miss this. I missed you.
[Although he makes no mention of the other men he had lured into bed, implied in this plea is that sex with anybody else had not been the same and never would be the same.]
[And when Oliver relaxes, he relaxes too: his legs sag into the mattress and he lifts his arm to make room for the other man before resting his hand on his head, stroking his hair.]
What are you talking about? It was special because it was you. I'm lucky you didn't find someone else before I got here...
[Someone better, he thinks but does not say. While Connor has no trouble finding men he can sleep with, men he can fall in love with - men he can trust - are another matter. No such person can be found, because in his mind it can be only Oliver. ]
And I hope you weren't planning on kissing me more, because I might have just thrown up in my mouth a little bit.
[Not that lucky. His feelings have proven to be one sided twice in the length of time he's been with ALASTAIR. He decides against voicing that particular sentiment, instead just making a noise of distaste at the latter comment as he snuggles closer.]
[He ruffles Oliver's hair, as if aiming to make it match the mess that has become of his own hair. His body is sore from their romp together, but this is what contentment feels like: the weight of Oliver's head on his chest, rising and falling as one, and the warmth of their bare skin laid against each other.]
[There's no malice to his grumbling. Only a sleepy contentment. Connor is warm, and his scent comfortingly familiar. He has no desire to move away from him.]
[His fingers trace slowly over Oliver's shoulder and down his arm, remembering the contours of his muscles and the softness of his skin, never wanting to stop. Never wanting to lose this again, remembering how far they have come, how much he has changed because of him - and it is a heady feeling, both exhilarating and frightening in the way that plunging off a cliff is.
There are those feelings that he is supposed to clamp down, rising up in mutiny again. They love each other, and both has said as much, but that doesn't mean that they need to be in a hurry to define their relationship. That is where they become complicated, and for the present he clings to the simplicity of being in one another's arms.]
We'll go shower off, and when we're nice and clean we can come back here and pick up right where we left off.
[He chuckles lightly at the suggestion, but it's not a bad one. Lying here in this state is nice now, but it will become uncomfortable all too soon. He noses at his skin affectionately, wondering how much effort it will take to summon the willpower to move from Connor's bed.]
So, we'll have, what? Five minutes of being clean?
[Maybe even less than that. Showering with Connor tends to have an effect on him.]
[He laughs and drums his fingers playfully on Oliver's shoulder.]
Then we'll just have to rinse and repeat. Besides-- What if I just wanted to cuddle?
[He then cranes his neck to drop a wet kiss on the curve of Oliver's ear.]
Who's the sex addict now?
[Never mind that it would hardly be the first time their post-intercourse cuddling turns into a second round. How easily they settle back into this light repartee, as if it was not just a half hour ago that their words were weighted with solemnity, and not just earlier this day that only bitter broken silence stretched between them.]
[Connor tosses a roguish grin over his shoulder as he turns.]
We might as well have a little fun while we wash off, right?
[The bathroom appended to his room is tiny - indeed, to call it a room at all would be generous, and so he finds the quaint and outdated water closet to be more appropriate. But he has little reason to complain when the water that pours from the shower head is hot in an instant and perfectly pressurized. Without further ado, he steps underneath the steamy spray and motions for Oliver to join him.]
[Oliver chuckles, following close behind. While Connor switches on the spray he stops to dispose of the condom before lingering behind the other man, kissing at his exposed back as he checks the temperature.
He steps into the confined space behind Connor, not even needing to move to make contact with him. It would be unavoidable even if that weren't what they desired.]
[Although they had scarcely rested, already he is eager to lean back against Oliver, letting his back melt into the other man's chest as the water cascades over them, letting his rear brush against his softened cock. It is in part his usual flirtatious daring, but more simply than that it is his want for what is familiar. Oliver's presence is like a reassuring hand at his back.]
We may just have to get creative.
[He cranes his neck to reach for a kiss over his shoulder, his lips split by a grin and sloppy against Oliver's. He hadn't smiled half as much in the long bleak weeks preceding this night - he hadn't had any reason to smile. In spite of everything, Oliver gives him a reason.]
[He presses himself close, wrapping his arms around his middle as he kisses him with careless enthusiasm. The heated water falls into his eyes, but he ignores it in favor of keeping this close proximity.]
[He laughs against Oliver's lips, twisting around to face him, slippery against him where their skin bumps and kisses.]
That shouldn't be a problem.
[Again he kisses him, savoring his lips as if they have gone days rather than seconds without indulging in one another. Then he reaches for the bar of soap that come standard with these little boxes of rooms each recruit is allotted and begins to rub it over Oliver's chest and stomach, leaving behind trails of suds.]
[Oliver returns the kiss every bit as eagerly. He feels revitalized, and indeed by the time Connor breaks from him to reach for the soap he is already notably interested despite his recent release.
His breathe hitches as Connor soaps him, and he wets his lips as he laughs softly. His touch is everything. If it were possible, he wishes ever shower were like this one.]
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I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way-- [He groans and screws his eyes shut.] I'm an asshole. All I meant is...
[His hands rush to soothe Oliver, massaging from the ridges of his shoulder blades to the top of his shoulders, convincing him not to flee too hastily.]
I really did miss this. I missed you.
[Although he makes no mention of the other men he had lured into bed, implied in this plea is that sex with anybody else had not been the same and never would be the same.]
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I missed you too.
[He rests his head on the other man's chest, feeling almost sad it's over. He's already picking fights before they've even cleaned up.]
I'm sorry it wasn't more special.
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What are you talking about? It was special because it was you. I'm lucky you didn't find someone else before I got here...
[Someone better, he thinks but does not say. While Connor has no trouble finding men he can sleep with, men he can fall in love with - men he can trust - are another matter. No such person can be found, because in his mind it can be only Oliver. ]
And I hope you weren't planning on kissing me more, because I might have just thrown up in my mouth a little bit.
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Gross.
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[He ruffles Oliver's hair, as if aiming to make it match the mess that has become of his own hair. His body is sore from their romp together, but this is what contentment feels like: the weight of Oliver's head on his chest, rising and falling as one, and the warmth of their bare skin laid against each other.]
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[There's no malice to his grumbling. Only a sleepy contentment. Connor is warm, and his scent comfortingly familiar. He has no desire to move away from him.]
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[His fingers trace slowly over Oliver's shoulder and down his arm, remembering the contours of his muscles and the softness of his skin, never wanting to stop. Never wanting to lose this again, remembering how far they have come, how much he has changed because of him - and it is a heady feeling, both exhilarating and frightening in the way that plunging off a cliff is.
There are those feelings that he is supposed to clamp down, rising up in mutiny again. They love each other, and both has said as much, but that doesn't mean that they need to be in a hurry to define their relationship. That is where they become complicated, and for the present he clings to the simplicity of being in one another's arms.]
We'll go shower off, and when we're nice and clean we can come back here and pick up right where we left off.
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So, we'll have, what? Five minutes of being clean?
[Maybe even less than that. Showering with Connor tends to have an effect on him.]
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Then we'll just have to rinse and repeat. Besides-- What if I just wanted to cuddle?
[He then cranes his neck to drop a wet kiss on the curve of Oliver's ear.]
Who's the sex addict now?
[Never mind that it would hardly be the first time their post-intercourse cuddling turns into a second round. How easily they settle back into this light repartee, as if it was not just a half hour ago that their words were weighted with solemnity, and not just earlier this day that only bitter broken silence stretched between them.]
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[Never mind that's it's Oliver's fault fault cuddling turns to more just as often. His hands are starting to wander even now.]
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Uh-uh--
[And with this reprimand he extracts himself, sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing for his soreness.]
If you want more of this-- [He gestures broadly to his body as he stands.] --then you'll have to follow me.
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So what are you suggesting? Shower sex?
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We might as well have a little fun while we wash off, right?
[The bathroom appended to his room is tiny - indeed, to call it a room at all would be generous, and so he finds the quaint and outdated water closet to be more appropriate. But he has little reason to complain when the water that pours from the shower head is hot in an instant and perfectly pressurized. Without further ado, he steps underneath the steamy spray and motions for Oliver to join him.]
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He steps into the confined space behind Connor, not even needing to move to make contact with him. It would be unavoidable even if that weren't what they desired.]
Is there even room for fun in here?
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We may just have to get creative.
[He cranes his neck to reach for a kiss over his shoulder, his lips split by a grin and sloppy against Oliver's. He hadn't smiled half as much in the long bleak weeks preceding this night - he hadn't had any reason to smile. In spite of everything, Oliver gives him a reason.]
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[He presses himself close, wrapping his arms around his middle as he kisses him with careless enthusiasm. The heated water falls into his eyes, but he ignores it in favor of keeping this close proximity.]
I guess we'll just have to stick close.
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That shouldn't be a problem.
[Again he kisses him, savoring his lips as if they have gone days rather than seconds without indulging in one another. Then he reaches for the bar of soap that come standard with these little boxes of rooms each recruit is allotted and begins to rub it over Oliver's chest and stomach, leaving behind trails of suds.]
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His breathe hitches as Connor soaps him, and he wets his lips as he laughs softly. His touch is everything. If it were possible, he wishes ever shower were like this one.]
This is really, really pointless.