Violation
The drive over is uneventful and Olli's mind is peacefully, blessedly, deceptively, blank. He does not have this often, but when he is behind the wheel of a car, the straightforward simplicity of a humming whirring engine, and the warm breeze of Dusseldorf in the pre-dawn air - no thinking, no talking - just an errand and a destination; It calms him. And things are rarely this simple anymore.
He hasn't felt this in a long time, the last most notable instance being when he forced himself on Christian in the boxing club. Part of him knows what usually happens, when he makes himself forget what is important or what is right and just allows himself to do – and rarely, if ever, is it something good. Really the only time his impulsivity has benefited him is when it comes to Christian. But the part that keeps catalogue of these things is largely silent as he merges on to the expressway, shifting the gear from first to second. He ignores the fact that everything he's doing tonight, everything he's done almost from the moment he landed in Dusseldorf has been because of Christian. There was a time when that was enough. He presses his foot down hard on the pedal. There was a time when he was enough. His eyes burn and he grips the wheel harder. Olli is tired, and he needs something as simple as that to hold on to against the tectonic shift of his thoughts. Right now it's a steering wheel and small blue book, but soon it will be more.
He rings the bell, running a shaking hand along the smooth blue leather of the book. It is small, compact, and portable. Rob always teases him because of his beloved donut binder, which is decidedly none of these things. But Rob doesn't understand that Olli likes keeping things contained, everything bound in its own place. No Limits business in the donut binder, in the flat share on the shelf. It is dependable, if one could call it that, and not subject to flux; like this book, or like hearts. And it is always there and distinct from his personal things. Easier to control that way - except the system failed, and the pages of Olli's life are spilling out the sides and he doesn't know anymore what to do to put them in order.
The door clicks open and he looks up as Rob greets him, barefoot and dressed only in the fitted black slacks he'd worn at the party.
"Oliver? What are you doing here?" Olli is momentarily distracted from answering by the pale pale white of Rob's torso and a little insidious part of him wants to confirm whether or not Robert tastes like crème fraîche.
"Your book." He finally stammers quietly, waving it in Rob's face.
"Oh. I thought Lena was going to bring it, but I'm really glad it's you." Rob answers, reaching for the book in Olli's outstretched hand. Their fingers touch, and Olli feels his breath hitch a little. Rob is moving closer, his other hand on Olli's wrist pulling slightly, pulling closer.
"Lena was kind of busy," Olli answers trying to look anywhere but at his wrist in Rob's hand, trying to remember why it is he can't pull away go back into his car and back to his home. There is nothing to return to.
"With Miri?" Rob is speaking so low that Olli has to lean in to catch what he says, and the instant he does he knows he's miscalculated because Rob has pulled him into the apartment fully now, and the door is locked behind them. This is faster than anticipated.
Rob throws the agenda book on to a nearby end table, and turns back to Oliver, his blue-gray eyes searching and questioning even as his body presses Olli against the door.
"Oliver." One hand is on Oliver's waist, drawing him in slowly, as the other traces up Olli's arm, shoulder and neck, to rest at the back of Olli's head and pull him in for a light kiss. His lips are much softer than his grip at Olli's waist. And it's this gentleness that undoes Olli, the shock of sweetness before the depraved eroticism of Rob's tongue sliding against his own. Olli is ashamed and excited that that's all it takes, and the shame feeds into the excitement, feeds into his desire and sets his pulse pounding and his cock throbbing.
Rob kisses him again, and again sighing each time, as though Olli's taste is the deliverance he's been waiting for for so long. And it is too sweet too much like love, and what has love gotten Olli so far? He doesn't need anymore of that, he wouldn't know what to do with it anymore anyway. He doesn't want love, he wants its opposite, because anymore of this, anymore reminders and he will lose himself completely, because in his heart the sweet kisses and soft touches are for Christian, he only sighs like this for Christian. His Christian - who opens him with whispers and shatters him with silence. He breaks away with a ragged gasp, but Rob's hold is sturdy and only clutches him tighter.
"Oliver," He says, leaning his forehead against Olli's, "I can't just let you run away this time. It might kill me." He chuckles and for the first time it is without mirth. Olli nods silently, not even daring to open his eyes. Rob's breath is minty, no trace of the supposedly debilitating alcohol. Olli finds he doesn't much mind the deception, in truth, he is thankful for the flimsy excuse. He waits an eternity as Rob's heat bleeds into him, everything intensified, their mutual aching lengths slowly rubbing, their short shallow breaths intermingling. Olli understands, suddenly, why boxers in the middle of fight will cling to each other tightly, as he cleaves to Rob, trying to stave off his emotional exhaustion. He is tired of fighting, fighting with Christian, fighting against Rob and fighting himself. The combination of want, need and despair will fell him if he doesn't affix himself to something. Rob's lips are resting lightly on his, waiting and barely there, but Oliver can feel how tense the chorded muscles under his fingertips are. He slides a hand over milk white skin, and Rob shivers in response and God it's confusing, and arousing and addicting to feel this minute loss of control in the other man. When he finally opens his eyes again, Rob sees, understands and lightening strike quick, it begins.
Rob's knee nudges his legs apart and Olli rubs himself shamelessly, wantonly against the tensed muscle of Rob's thigh. He doesn't know what to do with his hands as they push-pull him away and in. Rob's breath is hot against Olli's ear and it wrenches a low moan from his traitorous throat. Olli isn't sure if he's going to make it any further tonight, he is dizzy and his heart is aching and he knows now that he's never fully reckoned with the man in front of him - and he doesn't know if he can.
Hands pull him closer and for a terrifying moment it's like drowning. Instead of oxygen his nostrils are flaring with Rob's musk and his head is swimming. He needs something; he needs help, needs to hang on to something solid and tangible before he sinks. And Rob is giving it to him, ripping his shirt and pressing his entire body against Olli's - hot, solid and uncompromising in his lust. Olli is startled into sound again at the gentle pricking of Rob's chest hair against his own smooth torso. The clatter of his buttons on the floor is hazy and indistinct in his ears because Rob's mouth is busy at the base of his throat, at the spot where he first tasted Olli. The memory by itself is enough to make Olli clutch harder and press his hips forward, his senses going haywire at the cool of the door behind him and Rob's immolating form in front. Rob is growling now, as he works his way up Olli's throat, his tongue fast and wicked over the column of Olli's neck, breathing in short panting bursts. When he bites down – almost too hard -and grinds his cock into Olli even harder, Olli responds by throwing his head back moaning continuously, his gut fluttering at the knowledgeable fingers on his scalp and insistent stabs of Rob's prick against his belly, Without knowing, without thinking his hand is already on it, massaging and squeezing, and Rob whimpers, an honest to God whimper against his neck - and the thrill is more than it should be. He is making Rob shudder, controlling him, turning him on but it's still not enough. Olli reaches the other hand down to undo the expensive slacks, but it's so hard to concentrate with Rob sucking at his neck like this, and with the unbearable pressure building at his center.
He is much more considerate and gentle with Rob's pants than Rob was with his shirt. And Olli stays gentle - until he wraps his hands around Rob's rigid length, pumping furiously and a little drunk from the feeling and the heat as they rock together, locked in lust.
"Olli - mein gott- yes . . ." Rob whispers just before his mouth descends on Olli's, and the drowning feeling is back, but Olli's only lifelines are the sweet tongue licking into his mouth and the hard cock, twitching and already slick in his hands. The only things keeping him from falling are Rob's fingers in his scalp and the intractable band of his arm behind Olli's back as he grunts in time to Olli's sure even strokes.
One hand slips from his hair to work its way down, scratching here, pinching a nipple there, sliding down Olli's quaking stomach and when it finally reaches into Olli's pants, Olli breaks the kiss. It's too much, he's already so so close. His jaw is slack and he can't even make proper sounds because Rob's rough thumb is lazily circling his cock-head, massaging his weeping slit, sliding wetly along his shaft and it feels like he's breaking apart so he does the only thing he can. He clutches harder, buries his face in Rob's neck and whines softly waiting for it all to end.
And it does. Rob slides his hands out and puts them on either side of his face. Olli resolutely refuses to look at him, keeps his eyes shut tight, because Olli knows what he must look like. Weak, and flushed and wanting – he doesn't need to see Rob knowing that, doesn't want to see the triumph of his surrender reflected in Robert's eyes. The awe and the gratitude to which he is normally accustomed will be absent, replaced with something earthier and sure. They both knew it was coming to this.
"Come with me." Rob whispers against his ear before kissing him, and Olli catches the tart taste of apples again. When Rob pulls away he does open his eyes. And when Rob looks at him expectantly, he can only nod his head yes.
"My shirt." Olli says numbly, realizing the extent of the ruin.
Rob slides it off to join the scattered buttons on the ground, and pushes against Olli's lips, opening them to steal his breath and exploring Oliver's willing mouth with his tongue. This lentissimo kiss is worse than his fervency before, and Olli feels like a piece of paper singed and curling in a fire of their shared making. Rob takes Olli's hand out of his pants, and Oliver, blushing, realizes he never let go of Robert's dick. Rob clasps the hand tight in his and turns toward the bedroom, and Olli follows his Virgil through the dark wood of his own desire.
The bed is soft, and Rob undresses him with the same concentrated devotion he gave to Olli's fingers earlier, and the rustle of their clothes as they hit the floor has a ring of finality Olli can't ignore. He is close to bolting then, close to fleeing into the night but Rob is on top of him, sinuously strong, tasting, and teasing. Every kiss, every bite beckoning Oliver further down the rabbit hole as he lets Rob sample every inch of his body. The world collapses into a singularity, the center of which is the hot wet heat of Rob's mouth closing around his cock, and Olli reaches automatically to thread his fingers through the reddish-blonde hair. He wants more, he can't get deep enough into Rob's waiting throat, and his satisfied hums are taking Olli into dangerous territory as he slams his hips up to push further into that cocoon of warmth. The former psychology student in him is suddenly absurdly grateful for oral fixations, and all of him is grateful when Rob swallows around the head of his cock, so tight, so wet, so good, so distracting; nearly distracting enough to make Olli forget.
He tries to warn Rob that he's about to shoot, but Rob knows and he pulls off, the wet pop and slide from his throat and mouth is almost enough to trigger Olli – almost, and he spits angry curses at Rob, who only laughs, and bends Olli's legs back into his chest so he can open Olli and taste the puckered flesh at his entrance. The curses slip into sighs and moans, and he's begging Rob to keep tasting him there, even though he's pushing Rob away, trying to get a hold of his uncontrollable reactions. He's unused to this, no amount of wheedling could ever convince Christian to do this, all of this. But Rob's hands are strong and they are pulling Olli apart exposing him, breaking him down and there's nothing left to hide anymore as he fucks himself on Rob's tongue whining for more as his cock jerks and twitches, his hands desperately twining in the sheets, the hot precum gathering on his belly. And Rob is watching, his eyes feral and greedy on Olli's cock, his hands skimming and scratching and finally his fingers scissoring Olli open. And when he touches the hard nub inside - his fingers insistent and circling, Olli arches up off the bed, his vision whiting out.
"Don't stop." Olli whispers desperately over and over. He can't afford to stop, he cannot let himself remember, instead he lets himself get dizzy with the feeling, focusing on how slick and loose Rob's tongue is making him, how fire races up his spine when he nips and sucks at the wrinkled skin.
"Fuck me, please, please just-, now, please!" Olli is begging for it, desperate and almost crying because even after all this, it's not quite enough to temper the agony of his broken heart, and he can still hear the dial tone, and the all pervading absence is demanding to be filled in any way it can.
"God, just fuck me now." Olli can barely say it through the lump in his throat and the steadily climbing heat at his center.
Rob does not need to be told again.
Rob draws him up, and pulls him back, arching Olli's body against his, taut and curved like a bow string, his own sex the arrow, even as he is pierced by Rob's. Olli's back is flush against Rob's chest and he throws his head back against Rob's shoulder, his eyes shut tight, and his mouth soundlessly gaping, spit slicked and red as Rob's cock sinks into his slippery waiting hole. This, this is what he came for, their desire made manifest, an affirmation and the forgetting of everything but the demands of his body.
Rob's hands are sliding over Olli's pliant body, and Olli is pushing back, trying to match Rob's punishing rhythm gasping when Rob bites his neck and pushes him back down to the mattress, his arms tight and secure around Olli, holding him in place keeping him still as he thrusts into him. Olli is almost perfectly immobilized by Rob, and he bites and licks at the fingers in front of his mouth holding his face still, chasing the stimulation rubbing himself into the mattress to send himself over the edge.
Suddenly the dizzy feeling is back when Rob turns him around and lays him on his back, and impossibly it's better and Olli's noises start to mount in pitch and volume, a string of breathless 'nos' flowing heedlessly from his lips, because he's close, and this can't end, he's made no plans for afterward and he's afraid his memories will continue to torment him when it's all done. His scalp is tingling and his chest is tight and he is shaking partly from arousal, partly from fear.
"Shh Shh, be quiet " Rob says softly even as his cock pistons in and out of Olli's hungry ass, making the request impossible.
"Just look at me." he punctuates every word with a thrust of his thick thick prick and Olli can't believe how much he wants to do as he's told, but Rob seems to have unerringly honed in on his prostate and is making it difficult to comply. Olli has to settle for breathing harshly and making tiny mewling noises in his throat as Rob pushes into him and he nods his head yes, unable to look away from the pale blue eyes above him, searching futilely for something familiar, something he's lost.
"Fuck, Olli! God." Rob whispers before diving onto Olli's open and wanting mouth. When Olli feels his chest burning for air Rob finally let releases it and leans in so that he can whisper raggedly right into Olli's ear.
"So sweet, and tight.. God Olli, so good…God."
And Olli wants to answer him, but he's been instructed to keep quiet, and for the first time in a long time he really is speechless - so he bites down on Rob's shoulder instead whimpering softly at every welcome intrusion, locking his legs around Robert's waist and carding his fingers through the silk soft hair, not as thick, but for now, enough, just for now.
Rob is rocking him into sweet oblivion and Olli is entranced, watching the flush creep over Rob, the sweat beading at his temple. It is different. He is different, and Olli can't look anymore he can't be a party to this, can't witness it, so he closes his eyes. It's what he asked for, what he needed, and if he reminds himself of this enough, if he just focuses on this indescribable pleasure, he'll forget everything else, like the fact that he has nothing left to remember, that all he has is this. The sweat sliding between their bodies, Rob's too - low baritone grunts, the odd thickness of his cock inside and the hollowness that Olli fears will be his constant companion from now on.
"Stay with me baby, say my name, Olli" Rob grunts.
Olli has to refuse, shake his head no because he can't give that to him, he can't. He's already giving up so much, and if it's odd to retain one's pride while flat on one's back, it doesn't occur to Olli. He only knows he will not easily give Rob the satisfaction his ego demands. Olli digs his nails hard into Rob's back and pulls him closer, arching his body and shuddering at the downy soft hair roughly brushing his prick with every twitch of Rob's hips. That much he can give him no more.
Rob laughs, quiet and low into Olli's ear and he has to bite back a moan at how the sound goes straight to his dick. He's distracted enough, for a moment, by his own unmanageable desire, that he doesn't realize, at first, that Rob has his hands pinned above him and is slowly pulling out.
His eyes snap open, hot and green, and he looks into the calculating ice of Rob's gaze and begs soundlessly and shamelessly, trying to follow and not lose the feeling of having something, someone, inside. But Rob, deceptively strong, has him trapped, and Olli can feel his cock just beyond his entrance, the heat of it enticing and dangerous.
"Say" Rob slams into him quickly and before Olli can even register how much of it is pleasure and how much is pain he's out again.
"My" The part of Olli's mind, that still deals in sense and consequences knows what's next. But Rob sends the last of Olli's consciousness packing when he spits into his hand and starts roughly palming Olli's leaking cock.
"Name" He pushes in hard again and Olli almost flies off the bed dazed at the speed and control. His mouth is wired open in a soundless scream while Rob viciously rolls his hips over and over and Olli's eyes roll to the back of his head because it's impossible that he could get it in at just the right angle, incredible that his hand could keep up with his punishing pace but he does, and it does and -oh God - Olli cannot stop the alien sound that pours out of him even if he wanted to.
Rob is looking into his eyes again when he feels it. His whole body tenses and quivers and a low growling sound builds in his throat. He looks down at the purple head of his dick in Rob's ivory white hand and thinks something must be wrong because he can't hear anything but a strange rushing noise. But Rob slams him back to sense with one more ruthless thrust and he's tingling all over, and for a fraction of a second he's finally blissfully full, and coming so hard that his body is thrown into silent paroxysms of sweet sweet agony. He sees the thick white streams issuing from his cock, and it's like he's dissolving, most certainly slipping away with only Rob's feral smile to keep him in place. But it's only when his mouth closes around the final part of Rob's name, as his wild shout of completion echoes against the walls and the empty spaces of his heart, and mingles with Rob's own strangled gasp of release - it is only then that Olli realizes that he has, in fact, lost it all.
Lol why am I even bothering :-/ OH well. for the one or two lonely souls of you following here, Review, bitte und danke.
