The Struggle For Love ✔

Chapter 6.5 - Curiosity [MATURE]

- Friday, March 16th, –

Right after the front door slams shut behind Oliver, I attack him in a kiss. I don't want to think, I want to feel. I don't want to wonder, I want to experience. And most of all, I want what he wants too; to feel loved again.

Besides, Oliver kept teasing me in the cab, constantly touching me in way too sexual ways while seated in the backseat.

It's not that I'm horny – though I am aroused – it's that I like Oliver more then I previously would accept or admit to myself, let alone towards him.

And therefor, I guide him towards my bedroom, towards the bed, and let him throw me onto it with a devilish hot smirk on his face. He takes another swag from the bottle of whiskey, which is nearly empty by now, and allows me to drink the rest.

I throw the empty bottle aside, hearing it bounce on the bed and stop against the wall, yelping in surprise as Oliver pulls me back to the edge of the bed to again unbuckle my jeans, this time also zipping it open.

I help him to get rid of it by pushing it down my hips, him pulling it off swiftly in one movement.

"Someone's excited." He drawls with a drunken slur in his words.

"Says the one who's in a rush." I chuckle for a bit but stop as soon as he slides his hands over my upper legs, towards my hips, his fingers sliding under the fabric of my boxer short. He squeezes my legs, grabbing hold of my hips, his fingers dinging into my skin as he stares down towards me all hot, bothered and getting a bit impatient. Finally, he moves to get rid of his own jeans and allowing me to pull him on top of me by his shirt, slamming his lips onto mine a bit hard. I think I taste blood, but it's not stopping him from continuing to kiss me, repeatedly rubbing his member against mine. I curl my legs around his waist, following his movements until we're moaning too much to keep kissing, grasping for air in between. Both of us every so often try to restart the kiss, but there's simply not enough air in our lungs to keep it going.

Oliver stops moving, sliding my shirt up, rubbing his hand over my chest forcefully, taking in the outlines of my toned muscles, humming appreciatively. I pull the back of his shirt over his head and he helps me by taking it off and tossing it aside. So far, nothing new to see.

At least, not in physique. The atmosphere is completely different from what I'm used to when I'm with him, even in bed.

He sits back on his knees, pulling me up to pull off my shirt too, staring at me with a lust-filled glaze.

"Top, or bottom?" He whispers with a smirk. "I know you're great at fucking someone senseless. But rumour has it you're really hot when you're bottom."

"Don't gossip about me with Stan." I roll my eyes, but Oliver shakes his head and smirks.

"Little bird is called Liam, not Stan." He cups my face with one hand, locking his lips with mine for a gentle kiss. "Pick."

"Isn't it obvious that you're the dominant one out of the two of us?"

Oliver can't fight back a smug grin, nodding. "Was just testing to see how far I could take this..." he drawls with a chuckle, cutting my ability to respond by kissing me again. He forces me to lay back down, his hands moving to push down my boxer shorts, finally freeing my leaking and throbbing member.

He gets rid of both our underwear, pulling me in his arms afterwards, resolving in kissing, and touching for that matter.

It's all we do for a while; kiss. We share deep kisses, we share superficial pecks on the lips. We stare at each other and suddenly I start wondering if my growing feelings for him might be mutual feelings.