14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Oliver

Tell me what you need.

For those first few seconds, Oliver had trouble finding his words. What did he need? Anything. Everything. For the majority of his life, people had been telling him what he needed—the salad fork, not the fish fork; piano lessons, not cello; a homburg, not a fedora; and on and on—and now Floyd was sweetly hovering above his cock, asking what it was that he needed. God, Floyd looked so magnificent like that—his eyes hungry, his hair a mess, his lips slightly pursed.

"Kiss me," Oliver finally managed.

Before Oliver could even clarify that he meant on his cock, Floyd's lips brushed the tip and the sensation made Oliver shudder, excitement rolling through his body like thunder. Floyd wrapped a hand around Oliver's length, slowly pulling back the foreskin, and then he planted another kiss on Oliver's naked head.

"Oh, sweetheart, your lips are so soft," Oliver said, enthralled by the sight before him.

Floyd kissed him once more.

"Can I lick you, Ollie?" Floyd asked, his low voice husky and raw.

Oliver kind of wanted to kick him for that. Why the hell was he even asking? But then, Oliver looked into Floyd's big blue eyes, so wide and caring, and realized how much he loved that Floyd was considerate enough to ask. He was probably the most selfless person Oliver had ever met. Oliver could ask him to do whatever he wanted, and fucking hell, he would do it, too.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'd love that."

Oliver watched Floyd's tongue slowly encircle the head of his cock. Feeling the wet warmth slide over his skin sent hot tremors of pleasure rippling through him, each exquisite enough that Oliver thought he might finish on the spot.

"I want you to take me into your mouth," Oliver said before realizing that he'd better be more specific since he was already so close. "Slowly. Please."

As soon as Floyd's mouth was around him, Oliver sucked in a breath. Bucking his hips, Oliver clutched the sheets tightly, as though they could tether him to the earth, even though with every passing second, Floyd's beautiful mouth was bringing him closer to heaven. Floyd bobbed his head. Once. Twice. Three times. With each repetition, Oliver's cock moved farther toward the back of his throat. On the fourth, Floyd made a little choking sound, and, fuck , it was so perfect, Oliver thought that he might collapse.

"Shit," Oliver rasped.

"Hm?"

Floyd was looking up at Oliver with slightly teary eyes, his lips still stretched over the head of Oliver's cock, and Oliver was hit with a fierce rush of fondness.

"Just trying to say that it feels nice," Oliver said, reaching to sweep a hand through Floyd's hair. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. I love it. Keep going."

Floyd turned his attention back to Oliver's cock, continuing to take him into his mouth, his nose bumping Oliver's pelvic area with every few bobs of his head.

"Use your hand, too," Oliver said. "Please."

As soon as Floyd's strong hand wrapped around his shaft, Oliver lifted his hips off the mattress, nearly climaxing. God, Floyd was so strong. It was evident even in what was a fairly light grip.

"Christ, Floyd, you're incredible," Oliver moaned, his hips lifting once more.

Floyd removed his mouth, and a thin thread of spittle lingered, stretching between the head of Oliver's cock and Floyd's lips for the briefest second before falling away. It was probably the single most exciting thing Oliver had ever seen in his life.

"Oh, shit," Oliver whispered, his eyebrows knitting together, warm heat pooling low.

"Do you want me faster?" Floyd asked, his voice rough.

"Yes, yes, oh my God, yes," Oliver responded in a pleading tone. "I'm so close."

Floyd obliged.

In seconds, Oliver's hips were squirming against the mattress, the feeling of pressure making his cock ache for release. Exhaling a ragged breath, Oliver threaded his fingers through Floyd's locks, unable to hold the least bit still anymore. When his hips rose up again, one of Floyd's forearms came to rest across Oliver's pelvis, pinning him down.

"Oh, God," Oliver said, barely able to stop himself from begging Floyd to remove it. He tried to let Floyd hold him in place but couldn't. "It's too much. I can't take it. I..."

All of a sudden, Oliver's thigh started to shake, something that had never happened in intimacy, and then his cock started to pulse. He cried out Floyd's name, followed by a whispered string of expletives, and emptied himself into Floyd's mouth.

When Floyd pushed himself to his knees, Oliver saw that magnificent cock of his sticking straight out, the moist head practically crying for attention.

"Come up here, sweetheart," Oliver said.

He struggled to sit up as Floyd walked up toward Oliver on his knees. Soon, Floyd's cock was right in front of him. He moved to touch it but stopped himself.

"Can I take care of you now?" Oliver asked.

Floyd nodded. "Yeah."

As soon as Oliver's hand was on Floyd's cock, he let out the most exquisite moan. Oliver was only able to rub him a few times before Floyd scooted forward more, urging his cock toward Oliver's lips. After a pause, Oliver kissed the head, but then moved his mouth away.

"Oh, God, Ollie, please ," Floyd said.

"Language," Oliver chastised playfully. "Naughty."

Floyd's thumb brushed Oliver's lips. "Please."

"Of course."

So, Oliver took Floyd into his mouth, and over the next few minutes, Floyd slowly but surely lost himself to pleasure, moaning words like "shit" and "Jesus," even once saying the wonderful phrase "I love seeing my cock in your mouth, Ollie," which wasn't too naughty, Oliver supposed, though it was still Goddamn wonderful to hear.

When Floyd came, Oliver happily swallowed every drop.

Floyd climbed off him and collapsed onto the bed. Dazed and happy, Oliver rolled onto his side—onto his uninjured shoulder—to face Floyd, who immediately reached up to touch his hair.

"Ollie," Floyd said, threading his fingers through it. "I love you."

Oliver smiled. "I love you, too, sweetheart." Oliver closed his eyes to bask in the perfection of this moment. "God, I love you so, so much."

As Oliver let himself enjoy the soft care of Floyd's touches, he found his mind circling back to Floyd's love confession—the one for Matt. It hurt Oliver's heart to know that Floyd had been hurting for so long, both before Oliver had met him, and then, all throughout the time when the two of them had been falling in love. It was so heartbreaking to know that Floyd had been keeping so much love and loss inside of him. Oliver never wanted Floyd to feel like he had to lose Matt in order to keep him. Or that by being close with him, he was losing someone who had been so very important in his life.

"I meant what I told you earlier," Oliver said. "About never letting you forget Matt."

Oliver could tell by the look on Floyd's face how much that meant to him. After one more brush through Oliver's hair, Floyd hooked his hand around the back of Oliver's neck and pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips—an unspoken "thank you."

Maybe a few weeks ago, Oliver would have left it at that. His insecurities would have prevented him from wanting to really follow through with that promise, especially if it involved talking about the person he had come to think of as a bit of an adversary. But Oliver had overcome much of that. After all, Floyd had spent the last half hour trying very hard to impress upon Oliver just how much he cared for him. Now it was Oliver's turn to show Floyd the same.

"Sweetheart," Oliver began, his heart beating faster in his chest, feeling both excited and scared to have Floyd talk about the love that he had lost, "can you tell me about him?"

Floyd sat up on his elbow. "Really?"

"Yes," Oliver said. "Please."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything. All I know so far is that he liked to collect pocket watches and stamps and coins. Oh, and that he was a miner."

Oliver watched Floyd's hand come up to stroke his chin, which was such a fucking lovable habit of his. Oliver knew it meant that Floyd was being thoughtful about his response.

Floyd eventually said, "He was shy. Quiet."

"Quieter than you, even?"

"Yeah," Floyd said with a snort. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Nah, you're not so quiet. Only compared to me, maybe."

"Matt was blunt, too."

"Wow, if you're calling him blunt—"

"I know." Floyd was chuckling now, which made Oliver feel so happy. God, he loved hearing Floyd be so open about Matt like this. "Hm, what else can I tell you?" Floyd ran a hand over his face and hummed. "He had this real coarse hair. Copper color." Suddenly, Floyd had a strange look about him, like he had only just realized something important. "Copper color. Jeez." He started to laugh.

It was making Oliver smile even more. "What?"

"Ah, I can't tell you."

"Come on, yes, you can."

" Don't laugh."

"Well, that I can't promise, especially now that you've told me not to!" Oliver started chuckling. "See?"

"Well, when I met you, I kept..." Floyd snorted. "I kept having this stomachache whenever I was with you. I think it was because I was feeling bad about liking you. Whenever it happened, I would..." Floyd pointed a finger at him. " Don't laugh."

"Alright, alright, tell me."

"I'd imagine that there was a snake in my stomach, like a copperhead."

"Gross," Oliver said, laughing a little.

"It's real hard not to shove you right now," Floyd warned, though from the way his whole face was lit up with happiness, it was clear that he was having fun. "Anyway, I think I pictured a copperhead because of Matt. You know, his copper-colored hair. Like Matt was mad about me liking you."

Oliver wrinkled his nose. "Well, that's a little sad. I feel bad if Matt is up there in heaven hating me for being with you."

"Oh, he ain't mad now," Floyd said, taking Oliver's hand and kissing it. "No more copperhead."

"Phew." Oliver squeezed Floyd's hand. "Well, so, tell me more about him, then."

"Hm, well, he liked everyone. Or... I need to think of how to say it. Sexually, Matt could have liked anyone."

Oliver thought for a moment. "Do you mean that Matt thought men and women were both attractive?"

"See, you're better at putting things into words than me."

"I thought you two were together since you were kids. How do you know Matt found both sexes attractive?"

"He'd tell me," Floyd said, bursting out laughing. "Golly, I hated that."

Now Oliver was laughing. "He'd tell you?"

"Yep. Matt'd come right up to me and ask, ‘What do you think of Ruth Walker?' and I'd say ‘What do you mean, what do I think of her? She seems nice enough, I suppose.' And Ollie, I swear to you he'd respond with something like, ‘I think she's handsome. I like her butt, too.' "

Oliver couldn't stop cackling. "Oh my God, Floyd, you must have been so mad."

"It took some time for that sort of thing not to bother me, especially once we were saying I love you to each other," Floyd said with a shake of his head. "He wasn't trying to be hurtful or nothing. Just honest. Looking back, I think Matt had some trouble understanding how other people might have felt about things he said or did. But if you told him something upset you, he'd come around and say sorry. Well, most of the time." Floyd rolled his eyes. "Never could seem to stop telling me who he thought was handsome."

"Jeez, I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault. I stopped minding over time. When we were older, I kind of made a game out of it. I'd try to work out who Matt might have thought was handsome at one time or another. I'd see someone, and instead of wondering whether or not I found them attractive, I'd try to figure out if Matt might like them. I'd even ask him if I was right or not."

"Wise beyond your years. Or foolish. I'm not sure which."

Floyd made a face that Oliver knew was probably supposed to be a threatening one—furrowing his brows and narrowing his eyes—only he was still smiling too much for it to be convincing. Holy hell, he was adorable.

"I really would shove you if you weren't injured," Floyd said.

"I'll remind you to punish me somehow when it's better."

Floyd reached up to stroke Oliver's cheek. "You and Matt ain't barely alike."

"Is that one of the reasons you pushed me away?"

"Mm-hmm. It felt like I was betraying him in some way."

"Do you think Matt would have hated me?"

Floyd chewed on his bottom lip, thinking.

"I think Matt would have told me that he thought you had a nice butt," Floyd joked.

"Nice butt but talks too much, right?" Oliver teased right back, and then Floyd ruffled up his hair.

"Nah, you talk exactly the right amount. I love it." Floyd started kissing Oliver's arm. "Matt wouldn't have hated you. You're a kind person, Ollie. He'd have seen that."

"Thank you," Oliver said, a little amazed that he was able to accept the compliment without immediately wanting to push back. "Floyd, I love you."

Finally, Floyd stopped kissing Oliver's arm. "And I love you, Ollie."

Somehow, Oliver was able to accept that, too.

***

Hours later, Oliver was pacing back and forth from the bedroom to the living room, basically ready to explode with excitement for Floyd to come back.

Moments later, there was a knock. After hurrying over, Oliver threw open the door and lunged forward, flinging his arms around Floyd and knocking him back a step, a spark of pain shooting out from his shoulder in the process.

Oliver made a little "eep" sound from the sudden surge of pain before saying, "What took you so long, lunkhead?"

Floyd chuckled next to his ear, and the low reverberations of Floyd's laughter sent tingles up Oliver's spine.

"Missed me that much, huh?" Floyd patted Oliver on the back. "Come on, Ollie, inside."

Reluctantly, Oliver let Floyd go before they went inside.

"Someone could have seen us, silly," Floyd said, and Oliver was relieved that he sounded more playful than mad. "I had to put Jo to bed, and then I wanted to talk to Effie."

"Was Effie upset that you missed supper?"

Instead of responding, Floyd held up one of his fingers, signaling Oliver to wait. After fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out two nails.

"She told me you can be the one to use 'em," Floyd said. "Last thing she needs is to clean up a bunch of blood off the floor."

Oliver snorted. "Ah, so you told her about our whole Dostoevsky thing."

"Yup."

With a shake of his head, Oliver thumbed over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

"Would you set those down somewhere, please? I'm clumsy enough to follow through with stabbing one of us if you keep holding onto them."

Floyd headed over to the kitchen. After setting the nails on the countertop, he picked a piece of paper and the envelope that Oliver had left there earlier.

"What's this?"

"Just a letter from my Aunt Betty. I've been writing to her."

"Ah, I remember you said you went to visit her."

"Yeah, she's... Floyd, she's wonderful. I mean, maybe she's a bit terse sometimes, but she's kind," Oliver said. "I'm really happy to have her in my life again. I can't believe I found someone in my family who isn't terrible. I'm so thankful for it."

Looking at the envelope, Floyd nodded, smiling warmly.

"Yeah, me, too, Ollie. I'm real happy for you."

Oliver came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Sweetheart, I missed you," Oliver said softly, close to Floyd's ear. "Can I show you how much I missed you?"

Without even a word, Floyd whirled around and captured Oliver's mouth in a kiss.