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The missing piece slotted into place, and Oliver lost himself in the sensation of rubbing off on Victor’s lap, sparks shooting under his skin. His balls tightened, and he let out a muffled groan as Victor sucked on his tongue…and then he let go.
The orgasm was a sort of slow burn rippling from his core and spreading outward. He moaned loudly, burying his face in the warm neck in front of him, letting the feeling of absolute pleasure settle into every single atom of his body.
Was that feeling happiness? Was it contentment?
Oliver wouldn’t know. He’d only ever been momentarily satisfied, and that feeling was nothing like the one that cocooned him as he let Victor’s arms keep him close. He lost himself in the rhythm of their matched breathing and the way their hearts seemed to beat in sync.
He wanted to stay like this forever, but eventually, Victor’s arms began to loosen.
“I made a mess of you,” Victor murmured into Oliver’s hair.
He laughed. “I made a mess of myself, but luckily, we’re still at my place.” He forced himself to push back on weak arms, and he got lost for a second in the pink flush of Victor’s cheeks. “Do you mind if I change?”
Victor licked his lips. “What would you do if I said no?”
“Ask pretty please,” Oliver said with the smallest grin because there was a tiny part of himself that kind of wanted to see if Victor would push it. Oliver knew damn well he’d give in too. He’d done a lot worse than sit for a few hours in soiled panties.
Victor cradled his cheeks again and stroked them with the pads of his thumbs. “Go change.”
Oliver moved off his lap with extreme reluctance and felt oddly bereft and cold once he was back on his feet. He gathered his jeans and didn’t look back as he slipped into his bedroom, opening up a drawer for a fresh pair of panties—soft cotton blue ones this time—and a pair of wool leggings. He felt the need to be comfortable instead of fashionable, and he wanted to see the look on Victor’s face when he slipped into this other version of himself.
He had a drawer full of thin T-shirts and a closet full of cardigans, so he dressed himself, then tossed his soiled panties into the laundry hamper. He debated about keeping them in his hand, asking Victor if he wanted them, but he had a rule, and he wasn’t going to break it. Yet. His resolve might not last, but he had another five days to get through, and he wanted to at least try to stay strong.
He was in uncharted waters, and he wasn’t the strongest swimmer.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he popped into his bathroom to check his reflection. He looked well fucked, though he doubted anyone would know it. His hair had loosened itself from all the product, and his fringe was hanging in a loose curl over his forehead. His cheeks were ruddy, and his lips slightly chapped, and he kind of liked it.
It was nice to know he didn’t have to dress himself up to make someone else happy.
Squaring his shoulders, he made his way back out to the living room to find Victor standing by the kitchen table. He was staring at his phone, but when he looked up, he went a bit slack-jawed and glassy-eyed.
“You changed,” he said, his voice a little rough.
Oliver tugged on the sleeve of his cardigan. “Is that bad?”
Victor’s head shook hard enough to disturb his curls. He licked his lips. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how you do that?”
Oliver felt odd and self-conscious. “What do you mean?”
Victor shook his head, taking a breath as he used his hand to beckon Oliver closer. Still feeling strange, Oliver didn’t deny the silent request and allowed Victor to run his fingers over the back of his soft cardigan.
“I don’t want to say it.”
Oliver frowned at him. “Is it that bad?”
“I feel like I’m objectifying you,” Victor murmured. He continued tracing a touch over the back of Oliver’s neck, the shell of his ear, the edge of his jaw. “You make everything look like it was made specifically for you. I’ve never been so comfortable, not even in my naked skin.”
Oliver let out a small laugh and shrugged. “I think I’m just a better actor than you are. Trust me, I’m not that confident.”
Victor bit his lip as he tipped Oliver’s chin up. “How is that possible?”
“Because I’m human. I sell my body for sex so my future won’t suck as much as my past. That meant I had to get good at coming across that I think I’m worth paying a lot of money for.”
Victor stared at him a bit longer, his fingers still tracing Oliver’s neck and shoulders. He braced himself for Victor to say something, to poke at him a little more, but in the end, he just let it go. “Ready to head back?”
Oliver checked in with himself to see if Victor’s words felt like a rejection, but they didn’t. They felt more like Victor was reading Oliver’s discomfort and respecting him. It was new, and it was odd. And he loved it.
With a smile, Oliver gently pulled away and grabbed his bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder. “Is there anything else you think I’ll need besides the basics?”
