..oo00oo..
Draco
It's New Year's Eve, and Ollie and I are going clubbing!! YAY. I've been waiting for this since I got here and now I find that I have absolutely nothing to wear! It's already close to ten p.m. and I've been standing at my wardrobe for close to three hours- throwing everything I have out and back in… I think I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown… I need help!
"Ollie!!" Oliver came rushing in, as if fearing I was being kidnapped by pirates or something, but when he saw me standing there in nothing but my briefs, ankles deep in a pile of discarded clothes and looking ready to cry he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, trying to hide a smile and failing gloriously.
"Still can't decide what to wear?"
"Nooo!" I wailed and he sniggered, before scooping me in his arms and kissing the top of my head, "Help me," I begged meekly and he sighed desperately,
"Alright… tell you what. I'll help you pick up your outfit only if you promise to wear it without questions." I looked up at him suspiciously,
"It's not going to be something embarrassing, is it?"
"Of course not! I want to brag in you, not be ashamed." I gave it some thought, well; this can go both ways…
"Tell you what," I said with a smile, jabbing his chest, "I'll let you pick up my outfit, if… I get to pick out yours." I knew he was planning to just throw on the first thing he'd pull out of his closet, but I was having none of that. If it takes me three hours to decide what to wear, he can make some effort too!
"Ok." I looked up and blinked, wow, that was easier than I thought; I mentally (and physically) prepared myself to battle Oliver for inappropriate clothing choices. Before he could change his mind I bounded to his wardrobe and started rummaging. I didn't have a clear vision of what I wanted Oliver to wear I just knew it had to be tight and sexy.
Twenty minutes later we stood on opposite sides of the bed, each holding a pile of clothing in his arms, staring at each other as if we were on a stand off of a duel. We reached over and placed the piles side by side on the bed, before snatching the opposite pile.
"I'm going to the loo to change, see you in five." Oliver said and I nodded. Once he left the room I tore eagerly at the clothes to see what sort of thing Oliver considered sexy for me.
There was a pair of black slacks, very tight fitting, that I never used to wear because they were, in fact, very tight fitting which was embarrassing enough for me not to wear in public (especially public that included my friends, or gods forbid, my parents…), and a top, that frankly wasn't much looser. There were no pants in sight…
I quickly shed the pair of briefs I was wearing and slithered into the slacks. I couldn't resist a glance at the mirror, just to see what I really look like in those, and I must admit that they looked good, very yummy indeed. The top was actually something Eva picked for me the other day. I thought it was a joke at the time, because I didn't think she actually expected me to wear silver, but obviously, she did. It had short sleeves and a shiny sparkle to it that made me look like a complete fairy. I bit my lip and contemplated telling Oliver to chose again when I thought about it- we are going to a gay club for New Year's Eve, maybe fairy would be the perfect look after all…
I sat on the bed and leaned forward to put on my socks and shoes and felt the material stretching tightly across my bum. Good thing we already had dinner otherwise I bet those trousers would split. I stood up again and looked at myself in the mirror, I looked good, a little tart-y but that was the point I guess.
A sprinkle of silver glitter landed on my head and I tried to shake it off, shedding it on myself and the floor liberally before turning to look at Oliver, nearly chocking on my own drool, fuck me- I'm good at dressing people. Oliver had on a pair of tight leather pants, black and shiny, hugging his arse and hips in ways that made my skin shivers with desire. His top was black too, a singlet with the sleeves cropped diagonally to the collar, leaving his strong shoulders bare. The material of his top was tight enough to show every curve of his perfect pectorals and abdominal muscles. The look was completed with laced up black and massive combat boots. He looked delicious, no other word for it.
Oliver reached for me and I gladly obliged and he encircled his arms around me,
"Fuck you look so good, makes me want to throw you on the bed and rip out your clothes off with my teeth." I let his words stir me in all the right places while snuggling close to him. Now that I've seen Oliver's clubbing gear on him, I'm not at all sure I won't just rather stay at home and let him rip those things away… "Are you ready to go?" I sighed, well, I did spend three hours clothes searching, might as well put my new looks into good use.
We grabbed our jackets- Oliver had on a black leather one, with silver buckles, and headed out. The plan was to apparate to the Soho and then walking to one of Oliver's favourite clubs. The air outside was freezing, appropriate for the time of year but not too good for my nerves, since I discovered that as we drew nearer to the club I was feeling more and more anxious, I'm not even sure why. I felt like such a twat for being scared of going to a club, but it was my first time… all I know about gay clubs is what Oliver told me of his first time, and judging by this experience clubs weren't the nicest of places, not to mention the fact that no matter where we go it's going to be packed, because of the New Year and I was dressed in a flimsy silver top and had glitter in my hair…
"Are you ready?" Oliver asked again as we stood at the club's entrance. I looked at the glittering neon letters spelling "Sanctuary"- well, I hope it's a good omen, before I nodded and we made our way in. We checked our jackets in the cloakroom and Oliver grabbed my hand tightly before descending the stairs into the club. The place was packed, as anticipated and we had to literally elbow our way to the bar.
"What will it be?" I opened and closed my mouth several times, not sure what the right answer is, I'm not a huge fan of alcohol to begin with- my spirits include mostly wine, that is consumed with a epicurean meal. Besides, this was a muggle club so they probably didn't have things such as firewhiskey or ice-gin. Before I could come up with something Oliver leaned over me, trapping me in the warm cage of his arms and yelled for two vodka-tonics. The music was blasting in high volume all around me, the basses beating in sync with my heart and Oliver was pressed against me, moving slightly with the rhythm, sending delicious shock-waves up my spine. I didn't want him to ever let go of me- really I didn't, I'd die if he left me to my own in a place like this.
"Here, beautiful, drink up, it'll knock the butterflies right out of your stomach." Oliver said as he passed me my drink, is it really that obvious or does my boyfriend know me so well by now to know when I'm dead nervous? Whichever the reason was, I soon forgot all about the butterflies as the cool liquid made contact with my tongue and burned its way down my throat. Fuck me, this stuff is strong. "Come, let's hit the dance floor." I barely had time to put down my glass before I was whisked away to the packed dance floor, pushing our way through the throng of people, to the middle of the group where we found enough place to be able to move our limbs around a bit. I danced close to Oliver, not just because I needed protection but mainly because I just loved the way his strong body was writhing against mine, his arms wrapping around me (and apparently knocking away unwanted hands of other blokes), his face was so close to mine, I could kiss him whenever I felt the urge- which turned out to be quite often, naturally.
By the sixth drink and who-knows-how-many song I was practically soaring, I felt so… free and loose. I danced vigorously and loved every second of it, sprinkling excess glitter all around me and having the best time I had in years. I dimly noticed that Oliver's drinking was far more moderate than mine, I did wonder for a bit, since we didn't have to drive home or anything but after the fourth vodka, everything kind of turned into a colourful blur and I didn't really care much. A slower song was playing now and I clung to Oliver, arms wrapped around his neck, our chests pressed together firmly all the way down to our groin, comfortable and warm. Throughout the evening I had a cosy aroused feeling going on, I wasn't achingly hard and the alcohol sure took the edge off things, not to mention the dance floor wasn't exactly the ideal place for frotting porn-like against each other- guess I never had that voyeuristic kink in me. When the song ended Oliver pulled out of my arms and whispered his need to the toilet in my ear,
"Don't go…" I pleaded, wrapping my arms a little tighter around him, pulling Oliver a little bit closer,
"Draco, please, I'm about to piss out of my ears." He said with a miserable expression, doing his best not to fidget too noticeably.
"It's your fault for drinking all those soft drinks." I told him and he gave me an 'I know that and you're not helping' look and I just smiled sweetly at him,
"Well, someone had to stay sober." He said in a cheeky voice and my smile vanished immediately and my jaw dropped,
"I'm not drunk!" I protested indignantly with a pout but released him all the same. Oliver grabbed my face and kissed the tip of my nose, grinning wide,
"Be back in a tick." And with that he turned and started pushing and shoving his way to the loo. I continued dancing by myself; I didn't have much else to do. A young boy approached me; he looked about my age- maybe a year older and had a really nice, open smile. We danced together for the remainder of the song, his hands thrown over my shoulders and my fingertips guiding his hips and also keeping at a safe distance from me. When the song ended he leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear,
"Wanna go somewhere?" Before I could even process his request I felt familiar arms wrapping themselves around my waist from behind,
"No, he wouldn't!" Oliver growled at the young man who backed away apologetically. I smiled at him as I melted against Oliver and the boy retreated fast, no doubt because of Oliver's death glare- which I couldn't see with my back pressed against his chest, but I could just as well picture. "I go to the loo for two bloody seconds and I come back to find you all over some other bloke?" He drawled in my ear while his arms tightened around me forcefully, I wanted to tell him that I wasn't all over the guy but when I felt his hardness against my backside I thought better of it,
"Are you jealous?" I tilted my head back to glance at him from the corner of my eye, I was actually enjoying this, Oliver's possessive nature, I loved the way he claimed me in front of the whole room, the way his arms were wrapped tight and unyielding around me and the way he sent menacing glares at every guy present as if they might all gang up and try to kidnap me from him. It did a world of good to my ego, I don't mind telling you.
"No." He declared confidently and I smiled and turned in his arms, putting mine around his neck and bringing him down for a deep kiss,
"Pity." I murmured against his lips, which earned me a firm pinch in the bottom. I yelped in surprise and that made Oliver laugh, I pressed closer to him, "Can we go someplace more… private?" I whispered and smiled when I felt him shivering against me.
"Where did you have in mind?" He asked, I think he was just humouring me, what did I know after all.
"How about that black room." I said suggestively and Oliver pushed me at arm's length,
"You mean the dark room?" I nodded, and Oliver looked a little worried from some reason. I knew I was in over my head here, I had no idea what a dark room looked like after all and by the looks of it Oliver wasn't at all thrilled to show me.
"Lovely, I don't think it's a very good idea…" He began and I pouted,
"Oh, come on, it could be fun." I said with the enthusiast of a schoolboy, a little dumb schoolboy… Oliver's eyes flashed green for a second and a slow smile spread out on his face,
"Come on then." He said and started pulling me away from the dance floor. I wasn't sure what to read into Oliver's rapid change of mind, I knew he was trying to tell me something but I had a feeling I was missing the punch line.
Oliver pulled me through the club which was littered with people in various stages of copulating, a sight that made me more than a tad uncomfortable especially now that I wasn't dancing anymore. We reached to the entrance to the dark room and I pulled at Oliver's hand, halting him. I didn't want to go in there, it felt weird, almost scary- that huge opening that was completely dark, holding the unknown within. The only things that filtered out of the room were the sounds and the smell.
Moans, whimpers, cries and screams of passion were heard, muffled and mingled into one another into one collective sob, and the smell. I knew that smell of course, for about four months now- it was the smell of sex. Semen and sweat and that added "secret ingredient" that wrapped it all together and made it impossible to misread. But it wasn't the smell that lingered after Oliver and I copulated, it wasn't warm and comforting and made me feel more in love than I've even been, made me want to close my eyes and fall asleep breathing (which, truth be told, I normally did)- this was the smell of countless bodies having sex! Not making love, not caring and sharing, just buggering and getting off and that more than freaked me out. I leaned against the wall by the entrance and breathed hard, watching at least two couples entering the room as Oliver stood in front of me, studying my face seriously.
"I'm sorry," I whispered without looking at him, some boyfriend I turned out to be, scared of a bloody dark room. I could feel the sting behind my eyeballs that indicated tears and hated myself even more. Oliver pressed his forehead against mine,
"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you." He mumbled and pressed a sweet little kiss to my lips, "This is a place where you go for a quick shag with a cute guy you met in the club, not the place you want to take your love to."
"But I want to be with you, make you feel good." I whispered hoarsely, feeling like ten kinds of idiot,
"We can just go home, lovely." He suggested but I shook my head,
"No. It's not even midnight, we still need to count down and kiss for the New Year." Oliver chuckled against my lips and pulled back, tugging at my hand, winking at me,
"Come on; let's find a corner to snog." I felt myself blushing for some reason, but let him pull me all the same. Soon we found a relatively deserted corner where Oliver could press me against the wall and lift us both with those expert lips and hands. Everything seemed to disappear around me, music, lights and people. The only things I heard and felt were Oliver's hands on me and his soft moans and kisses. It was pure bliss.
After I came from his expert hand (I still can't believe I manage to get off in the middle of a packed club), and he from mine, we just stood there for a while, regaining our strength and letting the little secret tremors of post-hand-job pleasure wash over us. Oliver cast an unobtrusive cleaning spell on us both to hide the evidence of our actions. Gradually I was aware again of the outside world and felt the colour rising to my face, fuck; this is far more awkward than having Oliver giving me a curtsy hand-job on the Hogwarts lawns.
"Let's get something to drink." Oliver said and took my hand again as we left our little corner of paradise and made our way again through the masses. We barely managed to squeeze in and find a place by the bar and Oliver insisted on pressing me against it, for extra protection I'm sure, and yell our order above my head. We toasted our glasses gazing adoringly at each other before downing the strong liquor. And that was when I discovered my limitation, namely seven vodka-tonics has got to get out somehow…
"I think I'm going to burst if I don't pee soon, as in- right now!" Oliver grinned and checked the big clock hanging over dance floor, counting down the minutes to the New Year in luminous red digits.
"You've got a little less than twenty minutes, think you can make it?" He asked cheekily and I waved him away and turned to shove and push my way to the loo, my bladder seeming fuller with every step I took.
I pushed the door to the men's room and stepped inside. The room was well lit, white-tiled and specious, with a row of cubicles on my right and urinals on the left and mirrored sinks right across from me. Both the cubicles and the urinals looked rather busy, handsome, scantly-clad men moving in and out, trying to relive themselves. I never trusted urinals, I must admit. The thought of having my willie out for the world to see was far from my idea of fun. Not that I'm ashamed of my willie, of course, hey even Oliver said I had a stunning member- and he should know, right?
I headed for a free cubicle near the end of the row, stepping in and closing the door behind me. I have very little faith in muggle latches but Oliver made me leave my wand back home so I didn't have much choice. I was already busy emptying myself with the pleasure of someone who had seven vodka-tonics when I heard it- moans and soft cries from the stall to my left. I gulped and tried to block out the noises while trying to will myself to pee faster. It didn't really work. Soon the moans were growing louder and they were accompanied by strange slurping sounds, unintelligible words and horror of horrors- thumping against the flimsy barrier separating us.
People often refer to Slytherin as the "Orgy house", or the "House of rising sun" from some reason but we do not engage in any more sex than any of the other houses (Well, probably Hufflepuff…) and I've never witnessed any sort of sexual activity above snogging before tonight. Right now I was standing in a public toilet with a couple of guys buggering their brains out less than two feet from me, with only a thin, not even floor-to-ceiling wall as the only thing preventing this from becoming every voyeur's wet dream. Oh, Merlin, I'm not sure which route the vodka will chose to leave my body- up or down…
The noises were growing steadily louder until they reached a gruesome crescendo, nearly knocking the wall down. I bless-fully managed to finish my business and fled the cubicle, heading for the nearest sink. I intended to wash my hands as quickly as possible when I saw from the corner of my eye the "Happy couple" leaving their "Love nest" and ducked my head down, blushing like mad. Damn, I can be such a prude sometimes.
The two exited the room and I heaved a sigh of relief that had been so awkward. I shook my hands to rid of excess water and turned around me to look for a towel. Paper-towel. Anything… the only thing that I could see was a strange box mounted up on the wall. I approached it cautiously; you never know what those crazy muggles will come up with. I looked at it from all sides trying to be vague about it, since the others didn't seem to find it strange at all. On the front of the box there was a little drawing of hands and waves. I gingerly stuck my hand under the little opening in the bottom of the device and hot air began to blow on it. Retreating immediately I realized the little bugger was actually suppose to dry my hands, using hot air, without me having to push any button or anything. How curious.
I pushed my hands forward again and then back, this was a nice game, especially when intoxicated. Ok, only when intoxicated… After a couple of times I noticed some of the occupants of the room giving me a queer look, oops, having fun with muggle stuff is bad enough, having muggles think it's weird is down right degrading- father would have my head for it. I noticed that none of them actually wanted to use the machine; most of them used their own trousers to wipe their hands dry, or toilet paper from inside the cubicles. I could understand them, I've been playing with this little think for over five minutes now and my hands didn't feel any dryer than they were to begin with.
The door banged open, causing me to jump and turn around to see a couple, deep in a kiss entering the room, completely entangled in one another, oblivious to the rest of the world. One of the two suddenly dropped to his knees and the sound of a zipper being pulled down was slicing the air. Alright, this is high time to bolt! I had quite enough sex displayed for one simple piss.
I made my way out of the loo as quickly as I could trying my hardest not to look at the couple who were making noises that made my jaw ache from clenching my muscles together. I shoved my way through the throng back to the bar and back to Oliver. He was sitting on a bar stool, swinging an amber coloured liquid in a glass. I wrapped my arms around his body in thanks and he turned, slightly surprised and smiled at me,
"You sure took your time, had fun?" He asked in a light tone of voice while his eyes promised pain to anyone who might try to have fun with me, I don't know what it is, but I just can't resist goading him when he gets like that, it's just too much fun.
"Quite," I answered licking my lips slowly and then reaching with my thumb to brush the corner of my mouth, Oliver's gaze turned to steel and his stance stiffened, gods he's so easy to work up… "What?" I asked, feigning innocent,
"You little wanker!" He drawled quietly,
"Did you know they have this thing in there that you stick your hands under and it blows hot air on them?" I asked brightly and watched his face transform from wanting to hurt to wanting to laugh,
"You spent nearly 15 minutes in the loo playing with the hand dryer?"
"Of course, what did you think I was doing?" That'll teach you, untrusting boyfriend that you are!
"Nevermind." He mumbled and pulled me closer to him.
"I love it when you go all alpha-wolf on me." I purred in his ear, tracing my tongue lightly on the shell, feeling Oliver's shudder with satisfaction, so easy to work up, so easy to calm…
"You're my little cub, I have to fend for you." I pulled back from Oliver's stupid grin,
"Hey, I resent that!" But he wasn't really listening to me,
"Been wondering, d'you think Lupin goes alpha on Snape?" Well, here's something I never wondered about!
"No way, Snape would never let anyone mount him!" I answered with conviction, fending for my godfather, head of house and the Slytherin way of thinking (that apparently was completely lost on me, the older I get the more I think I've missed my call as a Hufflepuff… disgusting really).
"Yeah, but Lupin is a werewolf, he's literally an alpha wolf." Oliver argued, and that made sense, I guess but didn't really change the fact that the subject of the sexual escapades of my godfather was completely inappropriate for the occasion, or any occasion.
"Who cares anyway," I said and perched myself in Oliver's lap, trying to dissuade him from probing deeper into the subject and giving me eternal nightmares. "I'm going to suggest to Dumbledore to put those hot air thingies in Hogwarts. They're absolutely brilliant!" Oliver tossed his head back with a loud bark of laughter, hey; I'm actually serious about this!
"Oh, you're so cute," he said, looking at my slight pout and added with a whisper that was meant strictly for me, "Pup." Pup, cub, I'm yours. I rubbed my nose against his affectionately and caught his lips in a kiss just as the crowd around us started roaring the seconds from ten down, but we were already absorbed deep in our New Year kiss. If this New Year is going to be anything like this kiss, I could die a happy man.
"Can we go home now?" Oliver asked almost whining and I smiled, yes, home sounds like a perfect plan right now. I nodded and he put me down and stood up. I can hardly remember the mad rush over to the locker room to grab our coats and out into the freezing street. Next thing I knew Oliver was backing me into an alley and kissing me hard again. I melted against him as I felt the tug of apparation behind my naval. When we surfaced back for air, we were standing in Oliver's bedroom. Being a wizard is so cool, not having to waste hours on moving from one place to another. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the vast bed dominating Oliver's room only to see the grate before me…
"Hum, Ollie, I think we missed our destination by a couple of feet…" I whispered seductively, making sure Oliver knew exactly where I wanted to get.
"Do you honestly think I'll let you get into bed smelling like a night-club?"
"Well…"
"Shower!" He allocated and pulled me after him to said room. Once inside the bathroom Oliver started tugging at my top rather viciously,
"Hey, watch it!" I cried, "This is a gift from your mother, you know."
"I knew it!" He cried with a gleeful flash in his eyes, "I knew it was one of Eva's crazy ideas. No wonder it doesn't match anything else in your closet." He laughed and continued to strip me. I soon found myself buck naked, leaning against the shower screen watching as Oliver took off his kit. He did it slowly, deliberately slow and sexy (either that or he really had a hard time shedding those extremely tight leathers…), but he soon managed to get it all off and before I knew it he was all over me, mouth, hands and body, moving me into the shower.
The first sprays of hot water hit us together and I melted against Oliver, when I pulled back he didn't waste any time and turned me over so fast that I had to reach forward and block my fall with my hands on the shower tile. I gulped and tried to look over my shoulder to see what Oliver was doing, it was very unusual for him to turn me around like this. I could feel his hands running down my sides and his low soft moan of appreciation when he landed on his knees and his hands came to rest on the swell of my arse. I gulped and braced myself for what was coming, which I had no idea what it's going to be, truth be told. Oliver spread my arse cheeks gently and my breath hitched in my throat, through the water pelting and cascading down my back I could feel his hot breath on my sensitive skin, Merciful Merlin, he's not actually going to do what I think he is, is he? I bit hard on my lip and tried not to think of Oliver's tongue going there… I wasn't sure whether I should be grossed out or be glad.
When his tongue finally made contact with my skin I shut my eyes tight, breath coming in short puffs, I think I was mostly shocked by the fact that something that seemed so dirty and perverted could feel so bloody good. Oliver continued his ministering on the delicate skin around my hole and I felt like I'm turning liquid with the water and for a second I was afraid I might be washed down the drain as well. And then the tip of Oliver's tongue was darting in there and my eyes snapped open and I couldn't stop the moan that was escaping my lips, oh gods, oh gods, oh my frigging gods!!! I tossed my head back and my fingers curled against the wall, bloody hell… part of me wanted to hit Oliver for keeping such a thing from me until now, but most of me was just shaking and writhing against that sinful tongue never wanting Oliver to stop lapping in me. Of course I soon realized that I needed more, much more than just his tongue,
"Ollie, please…" I begged softly, trying my best to keep myself upright when all I wanted was to drop in a pool of mush on the floor. Oliver withdrew his face, tongue and hot breath gone in an instance and I gave a heart-wrenching moan at the loss.
Before long Oliver was turning me again, pushing me back against the cold tile and kissing me gently all over my face and neck. I nearly sobbed at the feeling of his lips on me, when he planted his hands under my thighs and prompted me to jump up. I wrapped my legs firmly around his waist, exposing myself to him, wantonly and so gladly. My arms wound around his strong neck and my whole body was shivering when I felt the head of his cock levelling with my entrance.
I took a deep breath and clenched the muscles of my stomach in an effort to keep myself up, the only things separating me from a hard fall on the floor were Oliver's strong arms and the wall. I buried my head in Oliver's neck as he steadily and slowly entered my willing body. His earlier ministration left me quite loose and relaxed but it was still quite painful because of the uncomfortable position and the fact that all the lube Oliver was using was a lather of soap on his cock that quickly washed away by the stream of water.
"Are you alright, lovely?" He asked in a low grumbled once he was fully seated inside me and I nodded. I could feel every muscle in Oliver's body tensing with the effort to keep me up and loved it, those rock-hard sketched biceps. Oliver began to move slowly and I tightened my grip around his waist, this was not going to be easy, I though, the wet floor was bound to be slippery and I wasn't the lightest person in the world, but I had faith in Oliver (impaled against the wall I had to have faith in him, I guess), I braced one hand behind me against the wall and wrapped the other more firmly around Oliver's neck as his movements sped up and I was soon lost in that bliss of our lovemaking.
I could feel my own cock hard and bobbing between us and reached the hand that was not around Oliver to tug and pull at myself, looking at Oliver's face I was nearly done over, his eyes squeezed shot and his face etched in a beautiful concentration/want expression. Our moans mingled, muffled by the sound of the shower, white clouds of steam rolling around us as Oliver pounded into me with earnest and brought us both closer to climax with each thrust. I caved first, throwing my head back, arching my back into Oliver as white pearly streaks decorated my stomach, vanishing almost at once by the jets of water from above, I clenched my muscles around Oliver and felt with satisfaction the heavy pulses shutting up inside me, coating my inner walls with what was purely Oliver and ultimately mine.
Oliver's cock slid from me as he buried his face in my chest, breathing hard and encircling my body, drawing me closer so that I could untangle my legs from behind his back. Every muscled in my legs was quivering with effort and I simply let myself slide down the wall to the floor, unable to support my own weight. Oliver slid next to me, both of us leaning against the wall, trying to overcome the amazing experience. The heavy steam in the room was making it a little difficult to get my breathing back to normal but eventually I managed and then I tried to scramble to my feet, muscles screaming in protest.
"Fuck…" I breath out and Oliver is chuckling softly by my side, standing up as well.
"You can say that again, gorgeous."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I lean against the wall, head tilted down for the water to massage my scalp as I feel the lethargy of the post-orgasmic glow washing over me and all I want to do is fall asleep, right there and then, safe and warm in Oliver's arms. Oliver was yawning hugely against my skin and I chuckled, guess we both have the same idea. We pulled each other up, sluggishly and slow but determined to get out of the shower and into the bed, it's the least we can do, otherwise we'll end up sleeping on the cold tile, with the cooling water still streaming.
I'm not sure how we did end up in bed, and more so, dry. Well, mostly dry, anyway. I curled against Oliver under the warm blankets, feeling like the New Year couldn't possibly be bad.
A/N: "Sanctuary" is a name of a real club down in the London Soho, but I've never actually been there (found the name on the net). So I hold no responsability for any of the descriptions.
I love hand dryers, they're fun. And quite helpful in winter.
I'm so tiered of apologizing every time I post a chapter late, so I'll stop (apologizing, that is. I'm currently experiencing a rather hard case of writer's block, so I can't promise to post faster), but I am sorry. Hope you won't give up on me yet...