The strain in my voice must have been obvious, because Oliver’s gaze lifted again, concern creasing his brow. “Are you alright?”
“Uh-huh, totally fine.” I nodded, meaning no in about ten different ways.
“You, um. You look . . . tense.”
That was one way to put it. “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
Oliver tilted his head, studying me. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Everything I could talk about stood right in front of me, barefoot in the hallway looking all comfy and inviting with his baggy shirt and messy hair and sleepy eyes. My brain scrambled trying to come up with something, anything, that wasn’t“I think about you constantly and it’s making me lose my damn mind, and sometimes, like right now, control of my body.”
“Just, you know, like, stuff,” I muttered, evasive and totally lame.
“Stuff? As in how you lose all linguistic prowess at two in the morning?” Oliver said with a little smirk.
“Yeah,” I said, managing a weak chuckle. “Let’s go with that.”
We stood there, the hallway narrowing by the second.
“Right, well...” he began, right as I said, “I won’t keep your bladder waiting.”
Instead of smoothly passing each other, we mirrored the same sidestep, then corrected in the same direction again. Our shoulders bumped, then our hips.
“Wow,” Oliver said, with a little laugh. “We both apparently lose all ability to move around each other at two in the morning as well.”
“Apparently,” I said, far too aware of how close he stood.
“Alright well, goodnight, Luke.”
“Night, Ollie. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Tea forgotten, I retreated straight back to my room, ditched the pants, and slid under the covers. Nerves going haywire, my hand settled suspiciously low, touching the waistband of my underwear.
Welp, I guess I was doin’ this. I’d give myself a quickie, since my erection had plans to stick around until I did something about it other than will it away. Then I could sleep. In theory anyway.
Sliding my palm under the fabric, I wrapped my hand around the base and squeezed. A small relieved gasp left me. After a slow stroke upward, I paused, thumb circling the head, already slick with precum. Instead of the vague, faceless blur that usually accompanied my jerk-off sessions, tonight Oliver’s face, his voice fueled my desire.
I gave another pull from root to tip, a hiss of pleasure leaving me at the dry friction. Reaching into my nightstand for lube, I squirted some into my hand, slathering it over my shaft and across the crown, the strokes turning into a smooth, obscene glide.
Continuing to work myself over, I wondered what Oliver’s hands would feel like on me. Probably all soft and warm, not marked by the callouses that textured my own. I shivered at the thought of his slender fingers curling around my shaft, taking over and pumping me. A muffled groan left me.
My hold tightened as my pumps grew harder and faster. Thethwapof my full dick hitting my lower abs and the slick sounds of my aggressive stroking filled the room. My entire body tingled.
I couldn’t believe the out-of-this-world surge of arousal crashing over me just from thinking about Oliver, about how badly I wanted him here with me, to tuck him into my side andkiss the bejeebus out of him. The frantic rhythm of my heart synced with the erratic thrusts of my hand, or maybe it was the other way round, the thrusts of my hand matching the racing beats.
A voice in the back of my mind screamed to stop, to pull back before I crossed some invisible line, but I was too far gone, barreling full-steam ahead. I chased my release with a rare, desperate urgency. My hips bucked up into my hand. I’m not especially vocal when I jerk off, but tonight my characteristic breathy sighs turned into grunts and groans.
“Oliver,” I moaned, his name tearing out of me before I could stop it. One more twist of my fist, one final, punishing pump, and I shattered. Pleasure ripped through me, cum shooting from my dick, dribbling down my shaft and onto my fingers as I shuddered hard against the mattress.
Breathing still ragged, I stared up at the ceiling, stunned. Oliver hadn’t just wandered into my solo sesh, I’d invited him in. All the new ways I’d been noticing him this past week, all the want I’d been trying and failing to shove down, had piled up into that moment. Any lingering doubt I had about the depth of my desire? Yeah, gone. I wanted Oliver, in every conceivable way.
I had no idea what to do with that, or if I should do anything with it at all. I’d make that a problem for tomorrow, one I’d bring up with Ez. He was always a solid sounding board. We were both on shift at Opal and Obsidian, and we’d planned to hit the diner a few blocks from the club once we got off. Seemed like as good a time as any to admit I might be gone on my housemate.
Once our food hit the table, Ezra leaned forward, forearms braced against it. “So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I’ve been having dreams about Oliver, like dick dreams, and last night I jerked off thinking about him,” I blurted, oh so tactfully. Oh well, it’s Ez, no shame existed between us.
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Wow, okay.”
