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Victor got out of the car and leaned heavily on his crutches, staring across the horizon, and Oliver heard his breath hitch once—then twice—on his inhale. “Is this…?” Victor started, breathless and wide-eyed.
“So, the sky won’t be totally dark for another hour,” Oliver said, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared to where dusk was settling over the ocean. “And then another, I think, two hours before we’ll get to see any meteors.”
“Oliver…”
“I brought us supplies,” Oliver went on. He opened the back and gestured at the little nest he’d built and everything he brought with him. “Dinner, entertainment. Lots of blankets so we can cuddle.”
Victor’s expression was passive, and his eyes were heavy-lidded as he surveyed Oliver’s small pile of treasures, and then he took in a deep breath. “Why?”
“Because we suck at pretending that this isn’t going to hurt like hell,” Oliver told him. “And I figured if it has to be this bad, we can at least make the memory worth it.”
He had no time to say anything else. He’d forgotten how quickly Victor could move when he wanted to, and suddenly, he was pressed against the side of the car and the literal breath was being kissed out of him.
Oliver groaned, leaning into those powerful hands, holding Victor’s hips steady when he dropped his crutches, opening his mouth for those long, pulling strokes of his tongue as Victor claimed him.
He was painfully hard in his jeans, and he rocked himself up against Victor’s thigh. “I’d rather not break my amazing record of never getting arrested for indecent exposure or…lewd acts, or whatever this might be called,” Oliver murmured.
Victor laughed under his breath and smudged a firm, possessive kiss against Oliver’s temple. “You are a wonder, angel.”
Oliver turned away from him, hiding his pain by putting down the back seats and arranging all the pillows and blankets. He set up the lava lamp in the corner so he could flick it on when it got dark enough to appreciate it, and then he arranged the snacks before gesturing inside. “Ta-da.”
Victor laughed very softly, then leaned in, glancing around before shoving his crutches to the front seat and heaving his body into the soft pile of cotton and faux-downy filling. Oliver watched him, all awkward limbs and sharp angles, and he goddamn loved it.
He was on the verge of big, powerful emotions, and he had a feeling he’d never experience them again, so he decided to just let himself have it. He put one knee on the edge of the trunk, then the other, then slipped in and rolled onto his back directly next to Victor.
“What must it be like to live in your body,” Victor mused so quietly Oliver wasn’t sure he meant to say it aloud. But then he traced a touch from Oliver’s shoulder to his hip.
Oliver said nothing. He just let Victor drink in his fill with looking—with touching. He leaned in to every caress, then opened himself fully when Victor dropped to his elbows to resume their kissing.
His body was alight—like tiny fires sparking under his skin—and he forced himself to stop before he really did put them at risk of getting arrested. He took several breaths, then cuddled in close to Victor’s chest.
“Do you think if I prayed hard enough, the world would stop?” Oliver asked when he was breathing a little more steadily.
Victor laughed, rucking up Oliver’s shirt to thumb at his navel ring. “Maybe. But it wouldn’t take long for half of us to freeze to death and the other half to cook. And I’m pretty sure we’d lose our oxygen.”
Oliver flicked him on the side of the head. “I didn’t ask for science. I was trying to be romantic.”
Victor turned his head, resting his chin on Oliver’s chest. “Oh. Is that what you were doing?”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “You’re…”
“Hmm?”
“Being a smart-ass.”
Victor laughed and surged in, kissing him again, making his toes curl as one hand found its way into Victor’s soft hair. He groaned when Oliver tugged, then moaned when he tugged harder. Oliver felt a press of something familiar against his hip, and he rocked into it, making Victor pull back with a gasp.
“We shouldn’t get carried away.”
“I beg to differ,” Oliver pouted. “I really, really want to get carried away.”
Victor cupped his cheek and traced his puffy bottom lip with a rough thumb. “Later. Let me just enjoy you for a little bit.”
Oliver burned from the roots of his hair to the backs of his knees, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. He opened his mouth to say something—make a joke, maybe lighten the moment—but nothing came out but a soft exhale.
Victor stroked a touch down his cheek, then pushed back his hair gently before laying feathery soft kisses from his forehead, down his cheek, against the dimple in his chin. He worked his mouth over the hinge of Oliver’s jaw, then suckled at his pulse point before dragging teeth over his Adam’s apple.
He sighed against Oliver’s flushed skin, then went very still.
