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Farleigh jolted awake from a rattling of his bed and a sudden pressure in his lap. He blinked his eyes open to see Oliver, shirtless and blank-faced, looming above him. A rush of fear shot up his spine and he asked—
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Oliver’s voice was low and even—relaxed, almost.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I think you’re in the wrong fucking room,” he huffed, unsure how to process what was happening. Suddenly, Oliver crowded into his space, hovering over him—nose-to-nose— breathing hot across his lips.
“Am I?”
Fuck, Farleigh wasn’t going to let this happen. It didn’t matter how blatantly Oliver had been flirting with him early, or how fucking huge his dick was, or how sexy he looked dressed in a well-tailored suit. He wasn’t a hypocrite. And he definitely wasn’t going to roll over for a manipulative asshole like Oliver.
Somehow, Ollie managed to move in even closer, nearly brushing their lips together when he purred, “Are you going to behave from now on, Farleigh?”
The heat was building up in Farleigh’s hips where their bodies were pressed against each other and, yeah, he was, admittedly, super turned on by this whole situation, but once again, he was absolutely not a hypocrite, nor a pawn in Oliver’s silly games.
“No,” he responded—his voice shaking a bit from the electricity buzzing around the room. Before he had a chance to push back harder, he felt Oliver’s hand slip under the waistband of his boxer shorts and press against his flaccid cock. He flashed a devilish smile when he asked again—
“Are you going to behave?”
Farleigh could feel his resolution slipping away, dying to turn himself over to Oliver’s commands, but he wasn’t quite done making his point yet.
“No,” he answered, once more, but with more firmness and just a hint of desire seeping through.
Oliver’s hand wrapped around Farleigh’s swelling dick, pushing him right over the edge he’d been struggling to tiptoe away from. So when Oliver told him, “Don’t make me ask again,” Farleigh was hungry to comply, so he nodded back at the man he was trapped beneath.
Farleigh broke when Oliver told him, “Say it.”
“Yes,” he choked, embarrassed by the desperation in his voice.
He was quickly rewarded with the friction he’d been craving as Oliver began to work his cock in earnest. There was no reason for Farleigh to be doing this. He fucking hated Oliver, but the heat of his breath and the press of his body won over.
“What the fuck,” he said, more like a statement than a question, and Oliver pulled his hand away from his cock and to his mouth and obscenely spit into it. Farleigh had to bite back a moan at the gesture. When his hand returned to Farleigh’s hard dick, the new slickness felt groundbreaking and he attempted to buck up into the touch.
“Be patient,” Oliver commanded. His voice sounded softer—a little bit gentler than before. Farleigh hated himself for it, but all he wanted was to be good for Oliver, keep him sounding sweet. Finally, something let loose and Oliver pressed his lips against Farleigh’s, and Farleigh kissed back, nipping at his lower lip as his breathing picked up from the delicious friction on his cock. He opened his mouth and let Oliver lick at his teeth, let him grind down on top of him in search of his own pleasure. With his cock free from Oliver’s tight grip, they rocked together as Ollie licked and sucked at Farleigh’s neck. Eventually, he rolled off his hips and put his hand against Farleigh’s cheek—kind and comforting.
“I’m going to put my fingers inside of you,” Oliver stated plainly and casually as if they were discussing the finer points of Walt Whitman or Robert Frost like they had that whole first semester of school. Farleigh wondered if Oliver had always seen him like this—had always wanted to fuck him like this.
“I have lube in the drawer over there, I can go…”
“No,” Oliver told him and when he opened his mouth to protest, Oliver roughly pushed his middle and index finger into Farleigh’s mouth, deep into his throat, causing him to gag. Oliver smiled a sinister smile.
“Good boy, just like that,” he praised. Farleigh wanted nothing more than to keep Oliver happy, so, dutifully, he sucked at Oliver’s fingers until they were dripping with thick spit.
“Take your underwear off and spread your legs,” he told Farleigh, as he settled between his long limbs. “I don’t want you to come until I tell you to, okay?” He asked as if there was any option at this point. Farleigh was in too deep to turn back now.
“Okay,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as Oliver slowly pushed a wet finger into his tight hole. He moved around inside Farleigh with patience—almost trepidation—gently pumping into him at a forgiving pace.
“Look at me,” Oliver demanded, “tell me if you can take another.”
His eyes flew open, desperate not to disobey. “Yeah, please,” Farleigh choked out, trying not to beg.
“Good boy,” Oliver cooed, as he pulled his one finger out and returned with a second. Farleigh’s spit had nearly dried, and the rough press of his fingers sent a rush of pain and pleasure straight to his core. “You look so good like this, so obedient. You’d do anything to come, wouldn’t you?”
Farleigh bit his lower lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood, and nodded his head.
“I’m going to get that lube and you aren’t going to move.” The dark tone in his voice sent chills through Farleigh’s body.
“Yes, please, Oliver.” Those seemed to be the only words he could remember. When he returned, Oliver prompted him to budge up on the bed slightly.
“I want you to watch,” Oliver whispered against his ear, “Watch how I can make you come.”
The slide of his fingers, now slicked with proper lube, made Farleigh groan. As Oliver sunk deeper into the heat of his body and he watched as his digits disappeared into his wet hole, he could feel himself working up to the edge. It wasn’t quite enough to put him over until Oliver found the magic spot deep inside of him that made him nearly scream.
“Yes, don’t stop,” he begged. Oliver looked smug and satisfied, picking up his pace and coaxing gratuitous moans from Farleigh’s lips. Farleigh could see his large, hard cock hanging heavy and untouched between his legs, even through his underwear.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands like that, are you?” His dark eyes burned into Farleigh’s core and he pulled his hand away from his stretched hole.
“No,” Farleigh yelped, dying to have Oliver back inside of him, “I’m sorry.”
Oliver reproduced the bottle of lube and poured a healthy amount into his hand.
“And what are you sorry for?” He asked as he put his cool, wet hand around Farleigh’s aching cock. The sensation was nearly too much.
“For misbehaving,” he answered, desperate not to upset him.
“Good,” Oliver affirmed, “and what else?”
Farleigh searched his mind, terrified that the wrong answer would take Oliver’s tight fist away from his cock. He threw his head back into the pillow and chased the sensation of Oliver's slick touch.
“I’m sorry for tricking you, for making you sing that song,” Oliver tightened his grip, pleased with Farleigh’s confessions. “And for being a dick to you.” The pace picked up slightly and Farleigh groaned with the satisfaction of doing right by Ollie.
Oliver pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. “I forgive you.”
He released Farleigh for a moment so he could peel off his bottoms and swing his leg back over Farleigh’s hips. Finally, he took them both in hand and moved his fist up and down their combined hardness.
“I need you to come for me, Farleigh, can you do that?”
The permission to submit to his pleasure was all he needed and his orgasm quickly ramped up inside his belly. They groaned in unison as Farleigh spilled across his stomach and Oliver’s fist and his body shook from the intense release. Oliver quickly followed him, pleased with Farleigh’s restraint.
“So good, so behaved,” he chanted like a prayer as he painted white across Farleigh’s body, mixing their fluids across his stomach. They breathed heavily together and Oliver leaned down to kiss into Farleigh’s mouth.
“So well behaved for me,” he continued to coo as he dragged his fingers across Farleigh’s body, covering his fingers with their come. Farleigh gasped when Oliver’s fingers returned to his mouth—the same way they had when this whole horrible thing started—and coated Farleigh’s tongue with hot spend. He unquestioningly accepted it, savoring the taste of Oliver and himself combined. Fuck, maybe he was a hypocrite, but there was something about Oliver that made him terrifying and irresistible. When Oliver put his mouth on Farleigh’s, he happily pushed his tongue past his lips, lapping down the same fluid he’d placed there. It was probably the hottest thing Farleigh had experienced in his life thus far and, in that moment, he knew that Oliver Quick had him absolutely fucked.
They came down together, running their hands along each other’s bodies and luxuriating in the lingering taste of their sweat and come. Farleigh felt sick to his stomach when he remembered that they would have to face the morning after—pretend like nothing happened.
“Do you want to stay here?” Farleigh asked, thinking it was the nice thing to do, hoping they could share warmth just a little bit longer.
“Sure,” Oliver whispered back to him, and he settled against Farleigh’s side as he drifted off to sleep.