Chapter Three
Pressure and Pleasure
Felipe took the longway back to the lab to give Oliver enough time to clean up and to, hopefully, push back the melancholy he had seen creep in.Soulless. Releasing a silent sigh as he trotted down the steps, Felipe couldn’t imagine how Oliver got that idea in his head. Then again, he knew the things others at the Paranormal Society said about Oliver in hushed tones, even though they didn’t know him. Barlow’s creepy. He’s emotionless. He’s frigid. He’s weird. He’s too good to socialize with us. Felipe had heard them all over the past ten years, but soulless was a new one. Oliver Barlow was none of those things. He might find people hard to deal with in large doses, but he was brilliant, sensitive, and more than willing to do anything for the people he cared about. Felipe hoped Oliver knew he was all those things, even if others couldn’t see it. The number of outings they had taken recently wasn’t helping Oliver’s mood either, but they would calm down by the summer’s end. A smile crossed Felipe’s lips. He had an idea of how he might raise Oliver’s spirits if he was still in a funk when he returned.
Opening the laboratory doors, Felipe found the main room empty. His pulse quickened in momentary panic at the thought of what happened there five months earlier, but there were no scattered tools or bloodstains, only the astringent scent of bleach. Oliver was safe. When Felipe’s heartbeat died down in his ears, he could hear the steady clack of typewriter keys coming from Oliver’s bedroom on the other side of the storage closet. Felipe pulled the closet door shut behind him to block out the chemicals wafting from the table and floor.
While they mostly slept in Felipe’s apartment on the third floor, Oliver kept his room in the back of the laboratory’s closet as an impromptu office and a place to decompress when things got to be too much. Oliver’s bed remained beneath the window along with his collections of specimens, catalogs, and science magazines, but near the door was a rolltop desk in place of the table that had migrated to the upstairs apartment. A smile crept across Felipe’s lips as he watched Oliver at the Smith Premier’s keyboard. The sleeves of his hunter green dressing gown and grey pajamas had been pushed up to his elbows, revealing pale forearms and long fingers that swept along the keys with practiced ease. His inky hair hung across his forehead in damp, boyish waves as he stared down at his autopsy notes with a pencil clenched between his teeth, oblivious to Felipe’s presence. Felipe wasn’t sure how or when the pencil ended up between his lover’s lips, but he bit back a chuckle as he cleared his throat loud enough for Oliver to hear.
Oliver’s head jerked up from his notes as he asked around the pencil, “When did you get back?”
“Only a moment ago,” he replied, untying his shoes and setting them by the door. “You know, when I said there was time for you to clean up, I didn’t mean you had to work until five on the dot.”
The other man made a noncommittal noise but continued to type. A less subtle approach was needed then, but half the fun was watching Oliver put it together. Gently pulling the pencil from between Oliver’s teeth, Felipe set it aside as his fingers stilled on the typewriter’s keys. Oliver blinked up at him, the realization of what was going on slowly dawning as Felipe knelt beside the chair and ran his hands up his lover’s pajama-clad thighs.
“There’s still plenty of time before dinner comes. I thought we might use it for something more interesting than work,” Felipe said warmly, snaking a hand beneath Oliver’s robe.
Oliver’s mouth opened in a silent oh. “Are you sure? The bed’s smaller here than upstairs.”
“Do you want to continue this up there instead?”
“No,” Oliver said quickly before wrapping his arms around Felipe’s back and pulling him into a kiss.
The tether pulled taut as a bowstring in Felipe’s chest the second before a wave of arousal and need rolled across it. Oliver’s long fingers twined into Felipe’s chestnut curls, keeping him close as they stood and stumbled towards the bed. Felipe smiled against Oliver’s lips. It wasn’t every day that Oliver Barlow was willing to be intimate while still on the clock. He had better make it worth his while, then. Felipe trailed his lips down Oliver’s neck and along the sensitive hollow of his collarbone with a sweep of his tongue. His lover released a strangled breath into his skin as Felipe’s hand found the bare flesh of his side and slid down the curve of his arse with a squeeze. Felipe relished the way Oliver stilled and leaned into him when he touched him. There were only two people Oliver let touch him, and no one but Felipe was granted this level of intimacy. No one else could pull the unrestrained moans from Oliver’s throat but him, and he took pride in every one.
Untying his robe, Felipe slipped it from Oliver’s shoulders between kisses and tossed it onto the chair behind them with a flourish. The heat in Oliver’s grey gaze was all the encouragement he needed to blindly toss his own jacket and hope it landed somewhere it wouldn’t get stepped on. Oliver’s quick fingers freed the buttons of Felipe’s waistcoat and shirt. Pushing his shirt down, Oliver nipped at the tender flesh of his clavicle and shoulder.
Stroking the length of his lover’s growing erection over his trousers in time with his ministrations, Oliver whispered, “Is this what you had in mind?”
A ghost of a smug smile played on his lips when all Felipe could get out was a shuddering breath. He had come to cheer Oliver up, yet, somehow, the tables had turned. That wouldn’t do. Pressing his hand against Oliver’s chest, Felipe lowered him onto the mattress and straddled his lap. Oliver’s throat jumped as Felipe unbuttoned his top and ran his gaze hungrily over his form. He loved Oliver’s body. He loved his strong, square shoulders and the way his skin smelled of his mild soap after a shower, but most of all, he loved how his hands fit perfectly on the flare of his hips. He was about to reach for his waistband when his eyes snagged on the fresh scar that began at the base of his sternum and ran along the curve of his ribcage. A pang of sympathetic pain echoed through Felipe’s newly healed rib. He had caused it. His mind had been infiltrated, but the weapon had been in his hand when it happened. Shame washed over him as his hands tightened on his partner’s sides. Oliver had nearly died because of him. He had spent months recovering because of him, even if Oliver never blamed him.
The gentle press of Oliver’s hand on his wrist snapped him back to reality. He placed Felipe’s palm over the scar and held his gaze as he whispered, “You can touch it, you know. It hasn’t hurt for a long time.”
Felipe smoothed his hand over the mended flesh. Someone else might find such a large scar unsightly, but to Felipe, it was a marvel. He had never had one; his powers didn’t allow for scars. The thin line of pink, raised flesh was still changing, still healing. Watching the wound close had been as fascinating as it was a painful reminder of Oliver’s mortality. Reverently running the tip of his finger down its length, Felipe couldn’t shake the fear he would hurt him again.
“I know. I’m sorry, I just— I love you.”
“I love you too.” Silencing his spiraling thoughts with a kiss, Oliver tugged at Felipe’s trousers. “Take these off, and I’ll help you forget about it.”
You don’t deserve it,his mind whispered even as he smiled. “All right.”
