Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ilias
Oscar was definitely trying to kill me in cold blood. Or maybe it was hot blood, considering the subject. But either way, he was ruthlessly mean and teasing, and I loved every second of it.
Trying to focus on afternoon tea was really fucking hard when I was… really fucking hard. I was half tempted to ask the staff to box the food up so we could take it upstairs and enjoy it after I’d stripped Oscar down and spent the rest of the afternoon dissolving him into a puddle of goo.
But unfortunately, this was a work thing, and while Oscar could easily write a short review of the hotel without experiencing every single aspect, we were still representing The Traveller , and the weight attached to that name was so heavy it could easily drown us.
“I have a question,” I said as I reached for one of the enormous, fluffy scones on the top of the cake stand. I was hoping a change of subject would help divert my train of thought. “Do you have particular ratings standards you have to stick to when you review places? Certain things you have to look for? Is there a secret list of Traveller dos and don’ts?”
Oscar nodded as he took a tiny patisserie piece made of meringue and cream off the stand. I tried not to watch him lick cream off his fingers.
“We do have things we look for, and we’re supposed to try to stay impartial and not let our own feelings get in the way of things. Like if a hotel has a great restaurant but it mostly serves fish and seafood, and that’s not your sort of thing, you have to try to review it from the point of view of a guest… and obviously, Marcus, or whoever, isn’t going to expect someone to review a seafood restaurant if you’re allergic, but you get the idea.
“We’re looking at the whole package and how it feels as a guest. We don’t have a tick-box list or anything, and we’re slightly less rigid than something like an international hotel review guide, but there are standards places have to meet—mostly borne out of the fact that The Traveller is a luxury travel magazine, so places have to meet certain requirements for our readers.”
“Couldn’t suggest anyone stay somewhere less than four stars,” I said with a wry smile. “How would they cope?”
Oscar snorted. “Perish the thought! Although, we have actually recommended hostels and small budget hotels. Things don’t have to cost a fortune to be nice.”
“Then how come I always end up staying in the really shit ones?”
“That’s all on you.” Oscar laughed. “Don’t you research places?”
“Mostly.” I shrugged and pulled my scone apart before reaching for the dish of clotted cream. “But sometimes it’s fun to say fuck it and just book somewhere random. I wouldn’t always recommend it, but I’ve stayed in some interesting places.”
“Like?”
I thought for a second. “The love hotel in Tokyo was an interesting one. I mean it was very clean and pretty comfortable, but I hadn’t anticipated the amount of porn on offer. Or the amount of neon.”
“Seriously? I feel like it had to have been a lot of porn to surprise you,” Oscar said with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin. It was the sort of grin that did funny things to my insides.
“Rude! But accurate.” I reached for the raspberry jam and began to pile mountains of cream and jam onto my scone. “Another interesting one was this little hotel I stayed at in Berlin. It was down a slightly dodgy-looking alley, and I had no fucking clue where I was—turned out I’d used completely the wrong entrance. The place was a little run-down and there were some weird stains in the shower, but the interesting part was realising the bar was full of a group of German leather daddies on tour. Really funny guys and pretty cool to talk to. They taught me how to talk dirty in German.”
Oscar was staring at me, then he burst out laughing. “You know, I’m really not surprised. Do you remember any of it?”
“No, sadly not.” I shook my head. “I got quite drunk to be honest. But I do follow a couple of them on Instagram, and one of them still sends me a Christmas card from him and his husband every year. They keep trying to get me to visit them in Frankfurt for the Christmas market. I should really try to go.”
I shoved half my scone into my mouth, realising too late that it was too big and now I had cream and jam all over my face. If I’d been going for sexy, I’d failed miserably. Oscar handed me a napkin, giving me an amused look.
“That isn’t the sort of white stuff I’d envisioned seeing on your face,” he said. I’d have snorted with laughter if I wasn’t suddenly staring at him while trying to chew frantically. “But it is good to know that if we fill your mouth enough, you’re quiet.”
“You know,” I said, finally swallowing, “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or horrified or turned on at that utter cheese. Gotta be honest, I think it’s a little of all three.”
Oscar laughed. “I’m glad I amuse you.”
“You are actually quite funny when you’re not grumpy or acting like you have a stick up your butt.” I wiped the cream and jam off my face.
“I’d argue with you, but even I know it’s true.”
“I like your grumpy side though,” I said, reaching my hand across the low table to brush against his. “It’s cute.”
“Not sure I like being cute.”
“Shut up and take the compliment.” I threw the napkin at him, and Oscar caught it, giving me one of his rare, warm smiles I’d come to crave.
The ones that felt like they were just for me.
Later, after we’d finished afternoon tea and pottered around the grounds under an enormous golf umbrella we’d borrowed from reception, Oscar and I found ourselves back in our room.
The rain that had slowly eased off over the course of the afternoon had suddenly returned with a vengeance, accompanied by a wild wind that rattled the windows and whipped the late-spring blossoms off the trees.
Our bedroom didn’t have a fireplace, which I was grateful for because the last thing I wanted was the wind howling down the chimney while I was trying to seduce my man.
Not that I really had to do much seducing.
Ever since our earlier conversation, there had been a palpable tension between us. Both of us had tried to divert it with conversations about work, or food, or the merits of David Bowie, but none of them had worked. I had already decided that unless he asked for something different, I was going to let Oscar take charge.
He knew his body, his desires, and his limits better than anyone, and it would be better for him to communicate what he wanted rather than me trying to guess.
Oscar was lying on the bed next to me, looking perfectly relaxed and oh-so gorgeous. My heart was racing, and I was trying to pretend I didn’t want to jump his bones more and more with every passing second. I’d been with guys who had wanted to take it slow before but not for a while.
Recently, my romantic trysts had amounted to nothing more than a couple of gratuitous fucks with whoever was interested, and although they’d been satisfying and fun, they were a world away from what I was doing with Oscar. And that wasn’t a bad thing. It was just different.
But deep down, the part of me that craved soft touches and romantic gestures… the part of me that wanted to feel loved again… was rapidly escaping any and all chains I’d weighted it down with and was rising to the surface of my consciousness.
“What are you thinking?” Oscar asked.
“Not much,” I said because now wasn’t the best time to tell him about my past flings. He knew enough about them already. “Just about how handsome you are… and how much I want to kiss you again.”
“I’m sure I can help with that.” Oscar reached out with one hand and cupped my jaw, drawing me towards him. My body moved instinctively until we were pressed together, my hand gripping the front of his shirt as our lips met in a deep kiss.
This time there was no initial softness; there was just heat and want. Oscar’s tongue caressed the seam of my lips, and I moaned as they parted to allow him access. There was a natural power in his touch that sent shivers down my spine. Oscar’s hand trailed down my neck to my chest, gently rolling me onto my back. I pulled him on top of me, spreading my legs around him and silently cursing the tightness of my jeans.
Oscar nipped at my lip, and I gasped, need bubbling under my skin. He followed it up with another kiss that had me melting into the bed. My cock throbbed in my jeans, pressing against the stiff material. I shifted my hips, trying to find some relief and moaned as my erection brushed against Oscar’s.
“Fuck,” I said, pulling back. My heart was already racing, my chest rising and falling faster than it should. I didn’t know how Oscar had managed to undo me so quickly, but it was both delicious and unnerving.
Maybe it was because I’d wanted this for so long, or maybe it was because there were other feelings involved, not just my desire to get off as fast and filthily as possible.
“You okay?” Oscar asked as he looked down at me, his eyes searching my face like he was looking for something to be concerned about.
“Yeah.” I grinned and tugged his mouth back to mine. “Don’t ask ridiculous questions.”
“It’s not ridiculous. I want to know that you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Yes. The answer is yes,” I said. “Less talking, more kissing.”
The sound of Oscar’s laughter vibrated through his touch as he kissed me. Fuck, we were wearing too many clothes. I wanted to be naked. Now. Or at least released from the confines of my fucking jeans!
Oscar had said he wasn’t ready for penetrative sex, and that was absolutely fine with me, but I was really, really hoping our epic make-out session ended in orgasms because I was a greedy, needy man who wanted to know exactly what Oscar looked like when he came.
I groaned as Oscar moved his mouth down my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.
“You should unbutton your shirt,” he said when he reached my collar, looking up at me with eyes full of heat.
“You could do it,” I said teasingly.
Oscar tilted his head in acknowledgement, his lips curling into a wry smile. “Okay. I will.” He knelt up and leant over me, running his fingers slowly down my body until he reached the bottom of my shirt. He popped the buttons open easily and flicked the sides of the shirt wide. “Much better.”
“Do I get to see you do the same?”
“I suppose.” He smirked and reached for the buttons on his own shirt. “It’s only fair.” As he slowly stripped off his shirt, I wiggled out of mine and tossed it onto the floor, not taking my eyes off the miles of golden-brown skin that were being exposed. I wanted to run my tongue down his chest and see what happened when I sucked on the dark nubs of his nipples.
“What about my jeans?” I asked, pointing casually to my bulge in the hope that Oscar would take pity on me and give me an excuse to get naked. “Can I take those off too?”
“No. Not yet.” He stretched out over me, his lips millimetres from mine. “I want to explore first.”
“But—but… that’s not fair!”
“Don’t pout, baby,” he said. “I promise to make you feel good.”
I opened my mouth to fire off some witty rejoinder, but nothing came out except another moan as Oscar trailed his lips across my chest and flicked my nipple with his tongue, his eyes locked on mine.
There was something about the way Oscar was lavishing me with attention that unleashed a hurricane of fiery butterflies in my stomach. Usually, my partners and I had an unspoken agreement motivated by selfishness that we’d make the other person feel good under the understanding that they’d reciprocate. It was all about getting ourselves off and our own pleasure.
But with Oscar… I got the feeling he wanted to make me feel good purely for the enjoyment of it. And that was weird. Because I hadn’t experienced anything so selfless in a long time.
“You okay?” Oscar asked, pulling back and frowning at me.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? You seemed to drift off on me.”
I shook my head. “It’s not you. It’s me actually. I, er, I can’t remember the last time someone wanted to take care of me the way you do.”
I felt my skin heat and knew the blush must be spreading down my chest. I hated being so open and vulnerable, but Oscar had made me promise I’d talk to him whenever I was freaking out. And I would. Even if I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was freaking out… yet.
“It’s laughable really,” I said, trying to resist the urge to bury my face in the pillow beside me. “I mean, we’ve barely done more than kiss, but… but everything feels different to me.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“Different good. Just… strange. Like you don’t expect anything from me. Like you’re doing this”—I gestured to my chest—“because you want to, not because you think you have to if you want me to do the same.”
Oscar’s frown deepened. “I’d never expect you to do that. Do most men?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? But I mean, when I have sex with guys, I want them to enjoy it too. I’d be an ass if I didn’t.”
“Okay. But do you want them to enjoy it for selfless reasons or because you don’t want them to think you’re shit in bed? Or a selfish dick?” There was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth now. “Or because you don’t want them to leave you hanging because you didn’t get them off?”
“Probably the second—the selfish dick left hanging,” I said, then sighed. “Sorry, I’m fucking this up. God, I’m so in my fucking head.”
Oscar leant forward and pressed a kiss to my temple. “It’s okay, I promise. You’re not fucking this up.”
“Feels like it,” I muttered. I usually used sex to get out of my head, not to get further in it. Oscar kissed my nose, then my mouth.
“You’re not. Do you want to stop?”
“Fuck no. I think I might explode if you do.”
“Okay,” Oscar said. “No stopping. Do you want me to keep going? Or do you want to do something different?”
I thought for a second, wondering what something different might mean. I was tempted. But I also wanted to see what Oscar would do if he kept going. “You can keep going.”
“Good.” He kissed me again, sliding his tongue into my mouth. He began to work his way down my body again, worshipping every inch of skin. It was a heady experience.
I’d never been worshipped before.
I groaned as he flicked and sucked my nipples, pulling them between his teeth until I gasped before moving farther down my chest. His fingers teased the waistband of my jeans, and I bucked up into his touch. Oscar didn’t say anything. He just smirked as he flicked open the top button.
“Fuck yes,” I said. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please do it. Unless you’re thinking about stopping, then don’t.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Oscar said, his voice as soft as silk. He popped open all the buttons on my fly, then sat back so he could tug my jeans over my hips, leaving me in nothing but my skin-tight boxers that clung to my cock.
Oscar had seen me in a similar amount of clothing in Hawaii, but this felt so much more intimate. He threw my jeans onto the floor and traced his finger over my engorged dick. I let out a little whine, desperate for more.
Oscar slid down the bed so he could stretch out in front of me, his mouth inches away from my cock.
“I’m not above begging,” I said, half in jest and half deadly serious. “Just so you’re aware.”
“If I wanted you to beg, you’d be doing it by now.”
I moaned, and my cock jumped. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t give him a reason.
Oscar grinned and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along my cock, soaking my boxers and making them cling even tighter. My dick was practically visible through the dark material. I spread my legs wider. I knew I wouldn’t get more than Oscar offered, but the movement allowed me to get my feet flat on the bed, which meant I could casually push my hips upward, silently begging for more.
“Do you want something?” Oscar asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. I thought that was obvious,” I said. I’d tried to go for teasing, but my voice came out shaking and desperate.
“I promised to make you feel good. Do you trust me to do that?”
The question caught me off guard. I nodded. “Yes… I do.”
“Good. Then let me take care of you. In my own time. I promise it will be worth it.”
I wanted to argue that promises weren’t really worth that much, all things considered, but that felt pointless. Especially when Oscar pressed another kiss to my aching cock, then reached for the waistband of my boxers.
I lifted my hips so he could pull them off, letting my cock spring free. Oscar hummed appreciatively, his eyes roaming over my body like he was trying to commit the sight to memory.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said quietly. “Did you know that? I could look at you for hours and never be bored.” He smiled and looked away for a second. “That probably sounds creepy. Sorry.”
“No… it’s not.” I sat up, scooting closer to him so I could draw him in for a kiss. I didn’t know how to tell him that his words made me feel cherished in a way I’d never experienced. “You’re very welcome to stare as much as you want. I can take some pictures too if you’d like.” I winked, and Oscar chuckled.
“Don’t tempt me.” Oh, I was one hundred percent going to take some very sexy pictures next time I had a free hour and the house to myself. If only to make Oscar blush. He put his hand on my chest and pushed me back onto the bed. “Now, stop distracting me. I want to suck your cock.”
I groaned, flopping back onto the pillows and grinning up at him. “Got it. No more distractions.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was smiling fondly at me. While I watched, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, discarding them and leaving him in only a pair of olive-green boxer briefs that perfectly highlighted his cock.
After he was finished playing with me, I needed to get my greedy hands on him because I wasn’t leaving here without making him feel good, and this time it would be for purely altruistic reasons. Mostly.
I still needed to know what Oscar looked like when he came.
But any more thoughts I had were driven from my mind when Oscar wrapped his fingers around my shaft and slowly flicked his tongue over the sensitive, wet head.
“Fuck!” I gasped as Oscar began to use his tongue to explore my cock like he was trying to map the damn thing out.
I moaned and bucked my hips as Oscar’s fingers caressed my balls, then swore again as he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked me slowly into his mouth. Jesus fucking Christ, he was going to ruin me. And I was happy to let him.
Another moan slipped from my lips as Oscar sucked me deeper into his mouth, and I gripped the sheets to stop myself from thrusting my cock into his throat. His other hand wrapped around my slick shaft as he worked my cock faster and faster, wet, sloppy, sucking sounds filling the room.
Heat simmered under my skin like my blood had turned to liquid fire. I already felt the familiar pressure building in the base of my spine, tightening my balls as my orgasm threatened to overwhelm me.
“O-Oscar,” I said, reaching for his head. He looked up at me, his slick, swollen lips wrapped around my cock and his eyes shining with desire. “I’m… I’m getting close.”
Oscar just winked at me and hummed his approval, sliding his tongue up the underside of my dick and pumping me hard. I came with a broken curse as I emptied myself down his throat, my pulse thundering so loudly I heard it in my ears. Oscar pulled off with a wet pop, licking his lips as a crease appeared between his eyebrows.
“Something wrong?” I asked, trying not to sound like I hadn’t just run the London Marathon.
“No,” Oscar said. “I’d just forgotten how weird cum tastes. It’s actually kind of disgusting.”
I stared at him for a second, then laughed so loudly I surprised myself. “I’m going to pretend I’m not hideously insulted.”
“It’s not just yours if it helps. All cum is disgusting.”
“Then why did you swallow it? You didn’t have to.”
Oscar shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought maybe that whole absence makes the heart grow fonder shit might be real.” He grinned. “But mostly it was that I’d forgotten how much I don’t like it. It’s… been a while.”
I shook my head and sat up, pulling him into my arms for a kiss. “You never, ever have to swallow if you don’t like it. Just pull off, and I’ll come on myself, or in your hand, or on your body, or wherever you want.”
“Okay,” Oscar said. “But sometimes, I’d like it if I came inside you. And maybe the other way around.”
“Done.” I sealed the deal with a kiss. “Just let me know when and where.”
“I feel like I’m ordering something.” He snorted.
“You are. A very sexy package,” I said with a wink, making Oscar laugh again. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Stop. That was awful.”
“You still laughed.”
“It was a pity laugh,” Oscar said as I kissed him again, tasting myself on his tongue. I didn’t think it was that bad, but my opinion wasn’t important. I was never going to force Oscar to do something he didn’t like.
I slid my hand down his chest, slowly sliding my fingers over his half-hard cock. Oscar groaned, and I felt his dick jump inside his boxers. “You still want me though.”
“Of course,” he said. His hands were resting on my chest, his skin hot against mine.
“Good. Because I want you too.” I pushed Oscar gently onto the bed, settling myself between his legs. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say.”
“Okay.” He nodded, and I trailed kisses down his neck and onto his chest, spending as much time on him as he had on me. It still didn’t feel like enough though. I wanted to spend hours, days, weeks even, exploring his body and unlocking all Oscar’s secrets.
Oscar made such sweet sounds that my dick was considering a second round of its own, but I ignored it in favour of stripping him naked and pressing soft kisses along his inner thighs.
Oscar groaned and spread his legs wider, giving me the briefest glimpse of his puckered, furry hole. It made me want to pull his cheeks apart and dive between them, working the sensitive skin with my tongue until Oscar was nothing but a puddle in the middle of the bed.
I pressed a kiss to his taint, loving the way he moaned. I spat into my hand and wrapped it around his cock, jacking it slowly as I teased his balls with my tongue. Oscar moaned and cursed, making something spark in my chest. There was something delicious about the fact that I was bringing him pleasure.
“M-more,” he said. “I need more.”
I dutifully obliged, sinking his cock deep into my mouth and tightening my lips around him. The scent and taste of him filled my senses, and I moaned, desperate to make him come.
Oscar’s hips jerked, and I let him thrust into my throat. My eyes watered, but it made another zip of delight thrum through me.
“Ilias, I’m… fuck, I’m getting close,” Oscar said, his hand finding my hair and tilting my head up to look at him. “Fuck! Wow… you look…”
I returned his earlier wink and teased his shaft with my tongue before pulling off with a pop. “You can come in my mouth. Or my hand. Wherever you want.”
“Can I…” Oscar’s expression faltered for a second, and he bit his lip, his eyes closing as another wave of pleasure washed over him. “Can I come on your face?”
“Mmm, yes,” I said. “You can definitely do that.” I jacked his cock faster and faster, not willing to tell Oscar that he’d accidentally—or maybe deliberately—stumbled onto something I absolutely loved.
The idea of being marked up by him ticked so many boxes that I could easily get hard again. I sucked the head of his cock, sending him closer and closer to the edge until Oscar grabbed my hair and pulled me off.
“I’m going to come,” he gasped, a fraction of a second before his cock pulsed in my hand and painted my face with ropes of hot cum.
I closed my eyes as it splattered on my skin, feeling it dripping off my nose and catching on the edge of my eyelashes. Some of it landed on my lips, and I stuck my tongue out to lick it up. I didn’t mind the taste as much, but I’d always preferred salty to sweet.
“Shit,” I heard Oscar say. “Let me get you a tissue.” I felt him move and bit my lip to suppress a laugh when I heard a crash.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Here.” He shoved a towel into my hand, and I lifted it to my face, carefully wiping my eyes. “I probably need to aim better next time.”
I snorted. “Can you aim cum?”
“I don’t know, but I can try,” he said as he leant down to kiss me.