Olli had meant that Christian was done talking. And if Olli was honest with himself, he'd admit that he wasn't much more of a conversationalist than Christian was, not really. Not when it came to emotions as deep and as complicated as all this. Somewhere between the failed drug career, the failed cruise ship career, and more failed relationships than he cared to admit, even to Christian, he'd realized talking had rarely truly resolved anything in his life. And more often than not, solace was sought in the comforting plainness of action. He was a natural, to be sure, at drawing things out of his others. Their secrets, like so much rain upon the starving earth of his compassion. He drank it all. But as for himself, more often than not, he was silent, sentinel, waiting and understanding. But it was hard.
There was no one in his life he'd ever understood better than Christian. So Olli knew exactly how costly it had been for his partner to tell him everything. To loosen the weight of his concerns, in their bed, in this shroud of darkness that didn't quite conceal the slight tremor in his voice, or the agonized cast of his sky blue eyes. To do this, was astonishing, and appreciated, so very much appreciated. The Christian who lay beneath him was at his most vulnerable, and most beautiful, and he would tax him no more, not tonight. He'd gotten most of the important answers anyway. What was needed now were assurances, a delicate marriage of words and action.
He rose, suspending himself above the prone form below him and waited, sentinel like again.
"Olli?"
He could hear it now, and how much clearer, how blatant, the soft tenor tinged with fear. It would soon be replaced, transformed.
He shushed Christian with a barely - there brush of his lips, and already the action soothed so he moved to apply the balm elsewhere, everywhere.
"I do love you, you know," He whispered, working his way down the supple throat,
smiling at the slight catch in Christian's breathing, before he wound his way to the smooth strong chest.
"I love your honesty," he said, sweeping over one nipple, and grinning at how it elicited a squirm and a sigh.
"I love your strength," he murmured, suckling and biting the other nipple until he heard a quiet moan escape Christian's lips.
"I love your loyalty," he sighed, as his tongue traced patterns along his lover's taut midsection, and glanced up, watching the rapid rise and fall of Christian's chest, and he marveled at the infinitesimal smile gracing the boyish face. Something in the wry twist of that sensual mouth made him ache. It had been months since he'd seen even an inkling of Christian's true smile, and he wanted to be the one to paint it there as long as possible.
"I love how you let me see you like this," Olli said, clasping one of Christian's hands tightly in his own, and using the other to divest him, finally, of his boxers.
"You mean, weak?"
"Unguarded," Olli answered quickly, before the thread of uncertainty could wind its way tighter around Christian.
"Incredible" he uttered, gossamer - soft, as he pressed a soft sweet kiss to the head of Christian's erection.
"Gorgeous," a long swipe of his tongue. "Mine," and he made sure to meet the azure eyes unflinchingly before relaxing his throat and swallowing him whole.
When he heard the "Olli" this time it was unchained, divested of doubt and ripe with want. He tightened his hold on Christian's hand, as he felt greedy fingers take root in his scalp; anchors, points of connection or perhaps salvation. At any rate, it needed no definition. The gasping desperate sighs, the steady mindless thrusts were, exactly as he'd wanted, beyond the pale of conversation, and rapidly approaching the outer bounds of sanity
He could feel the muscles clenching and releasing beneath him, could feel how Christian strained to keep some measure of control, and really, Olli had had enough of this. He'd had his fill of this holding back, enough of the brooding eyes and half-a Christian. He'd bound the man to the bed earlier, but now he knew it was time to irrevocably bind Christian to him. Before even an inkling of protest could be uttered, Olli shot up lightening fast, grabbed the lube from the nightstand and obliterated reluctance with one well - placed and unerringly accurate finger, before devouring Christian again. He didn't say Olli's name this time, didn't say anything remotely coherent. He just shouted, some passionate exhalation that seemed to home in on Olli's dick with the sole intent of making it harder. Olli wasn't quite sure he'd make it to two digits if Christian made a noise like that again. He didn't need to tell Christian, but he loved this too, sort of thrived off of it, really, and he moaned in tense sympathy, when Christian let go of his head and hand and fervently clawed the sheets instead, unconsciously circling his hips, pushing back into Olli, begging for more with every shred of his being. This, this is what Olli had wanted, and it was all the sweeter having been preceded by an uncharacteristic bout of true confessions. His faltering breath, his clenched fists, his pulsating tight hole, his head thrashing from side to side; they were all reinforcing everything his words had, and revealing some things they hadn't. Olli was humming so happily to himself, so busy establishing a rhythm with his tongue and fingers he almost didn't hear the whispered appeal.
"More."
He forgot to breathe. He must have misheard. He watched in rapt fascination as Christian continued to flail and fuck himself on Olli's hand.
"Don't stop Olli…" the request was low, gravelly, desperate.
He recognized this. He'd been in this precise state thanks to Christian, so many times, and understood what it was he wanted more of, understood the bone deep voracity of wanting. It had undone him more times than he cared to remember, but he'd never seen this in Christian. Olli felt he could come just watching Christian drown in sensation. And for the first time Olli was afraid. He was afraid of himself, of this monstrous desire that demanded he turn Christian around on all fours and drive himself into that sweet silken opening. That inner demon insisted he hold the man down and give himself the all consuming, fiery relief his aching cock demanded, the harsh possession of Christian writhing inescapably beneath. And why not, Christian was his, solely his for the taking, why on earth not?
I can do that, Olli, I can do that.
The words reverberated, and Olli remembered. Trust, he had this man's trust, and he wouldn't violate that for anything, least of all himself. He shuddered as Christian continued to flutter and throb around his fingers, and inched his way back up, laying flush against the body beneath him. Running his other hand through the soft brown, he kissed his boyfriend again, more soothing, more unspoken promises as he kept his hand in place, kept Christian suspended on the brink of pleasure, rutting and sliding as much as possible against the feverishly twitching and groaning form. He would control himself, he had to, but oh God Christian was making it hard not to give in to what he wanted so desperately to do.
"Olli…Bitte...More."
Maybe it was whispered this time, maybe a yell. Whatever form the entreaty took was irrelevant. Olli groaned as his precarious control shattered.
"Fuck, Christian, yes, yes."
It was time.