Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Going to pick up the rest of your things from your ex’s house: top of the list of most awkward activities ever.

“Connor -“ Oliver answers the door, surprised.

“Hey Ollie, i’ve just come for the last of my stuff.” Connor stands in the door, looking at Oliver guardedly.

“You could’ve just used your key,” Oliver shrugs. “But…i get it.”

“Ollie - “ Connor realises he has made it more awkward.

Oliver heads towards their (his Connor corrects himself) bedroom. “Let me just get your lacrosse stick.”

“Did i really leave that here? I don’t know why i still have that thing, it’s not like Law School allows time for hobbies, or anything.”

Oliver looks away. “Yeah i guess. “

Connor looks at Oliver quizzically.

Oliver looks up to Connor’s intense gaze, “you know, your job….and its associated extracurricular activities.”

Connor curses inwardly. It was easier to be in denial about how much Oliver knew about, That Night, when he was busy packing for Stanford. Seeing Oliver in real life, in all Oliver’s unashamed honesty and earnestness, well, that reminds Connor he is unworthy of Oliver’s love.

He attempts to deflect. “So, how’s your summer been going?” He’s desperate to distract himself from wanting to kiss Oliver as well his own self-hatred.

“Hmph.” Oliver isn’t fooled, but plays along. “Pretty sad actually, been working, mainly.” He gulps slightly. “You look good Connor. That red really suits you.” Oliver blushes as Connor tugs on his red sweater, running his hand through his curly hair.

“You changed your hair Ollie,” Connor notes appreciatively, quietly stoked that Oliver still finds him desirable.

Oliver wanders over to the living room curtains to close them. Anything to not have to look at Connor. At Connor’s lips. At his shoulders in that red sweater.

Despite Oliver’s best efforts, pale moonlight continues to peek through the windows, making a little halo over his hair. Connor’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, i’m letting it grow out. It’s not quite to your perfectly coiffed standards, but then we can’t all be beauty queens.” Connor rolls his eyes at Oliver’s words. “There must be some hair product of yours somewhere,” Oliver continues.

Despite himself, Connor smirks. “You know me too well.” Remembering just how well Oliver does know him, murderous tendencies and all, quashes any cute thoughts he’d been having about running his hands through Oliver’s curls.

Oliver twitches the curtains a bit, then moves to the couch. Sitting down roughly he kicks of his shoes and asks “did you want a cup of tea?”
Connor’s eyes light up. As awkward as all of this is, being in Oliver’s apartment, looking at him lustily whilst hiding what he’s really thinking, it’s all very familiar, very comfortable. Oliver makes Connor feel more, feel like life is worth living.

Which is a scary thought considering Connor is about to up and move to California. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Ohmigod, Oliver thinks, really?! I was just being polite. “How about a proper drink?” What? Oliver berates himself silently.

“Ollie you’re the best.” He thinks twice before spurting out “it’s really nice to be able to drink around you again.” Fuck fuckity fuck! Connor can’t believe he brought his fake drug addiction up.

“Honesty’s a bitch, hey.” Oliver feels the tension rise, but he’s loathe to stop it. Hostility and Connor feels so normal, and…can so easily become sexual. And dammit, his summer HAS been sad. Oliver pushes himself off the couch and strides in to the kitchen to make the requested drink. He reaches up high for the whisky.

Connor’s eyes sizzle. He knows what Oliver’s doing, baiting him, upping the tension. And that ass, those shoulders…He’s missed this. The fire lurking behind Oliver’s amenable demeanour.

“Honey, don’t hold back now.” Connor goads him.

The air between them heats up. Oliver pours two tumblers of whisky and stares back at Connor. He takes a sip out of one before he remembers to offer the other to Connor. He refuses to go to Connor. Fuck it he can be staunch. “You don’t scare me.”

Suddenly all Connor wants to do is feel Oliver all around him. “Not even knowing i’m a murderer.”

Oliver laughs a little bitterly. “I’m the one who said i wanted to know everything about the guy i’m with…”

“The good and the bad.” Connor finishes his sentence.

“Kiss me hard Connor.”

Connor didn’t need telling twice. He briefly wonders how the hot summer apartment air went from tensely awkward to tensely sexual. Two sad lonely humans, he muses, then crashes his lips against Oliver’s.

Oliver moans, his hands still clutching their drinks. Connor’s hands roam across his face, down his neck, and finally grab onto his shoulders as the whisky spills.

“I just want you to know how much i’m going to miss you.” Connor whispers into Oliver’s mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. Oh god he tastes smoky, like the whisky.

Oliver’s hips twitch. “Why are you so good at making me feel so good?” he moans helplessly. He pushes Connor off briefly to bang down the drinks on the counter and then grabs back at Connor desperately.

“Fuck you’re the best” he groans as Connor’s body thrusts flush with his, hips already grinding into his.

“My summer’s been sad too,” Connor starts sucking on Oliver’s neck.

“I’m glad i can help with that.” Oliver starts undoing Connor’s jeans and simultaneously pulling the hem of his red sweater. “Though this red sweater makes you look far from sad.” He’s breathless as Connor licks a stripe along his throat. His hands are desperate to touch Connor’s skin, he can’t quite get his hands working properly. He takes to digging his fingers into Connor’s hips, then running his hands underneath the sweater and up Connor’s back. Oh daaaaaamn his skin is sizzling.

Connor peels his mouth away. “The only sad thing about this sweater is i haven’t had you rip it off me.” Connor’s voice is husky, guttural, growling. Oliver yanks it off over his head, relishing the static he’s feeling from the fabric. It matches the electricity between the two of them, his heart is racing and they’re both desperate and

Connor smirks at Oliver, his pupils already blown, panting at 99mph. Sin. That’s what he is. Oliver watches his chest heave. God he is so fucking bad for me, and pushes Connor against the counter.

The two mindlessly rut against each other for a few minutes, until Connor attempts to unbutton Oliver’s work shirt. He gives up and, like Oliver before him, just runs his hands underneath Oliver’s shirt instead, moaning as he feels the sizzling skin of Oliver’s back. He kneads his back, this feels like heaven.

Oliver palms Connor’s cock through his jeans. Connor presses his forehead into Oliver’s shoulder, pulling his body flush with his own. Connor thinks he might die he’s so hard. Oh well, at least i’ll be happy, one last fuck with Oliver, he thinks.

Oliver applies more pressure, then changes his mind, undoing Connor’s belt, his hands finally getting it together and yanking off his jeans. Connor moans in sweet relief as his cock springs free. Oliver gapes at his lack of underwear, so used to seeing Connor’s signature black boxers.

“What the…Connor?”

“Summer’s been so hot so i’ve been going commando.” Connor is shameless, Oliver thinks, he’s so unembarrassed. Boldness is in the air as he drops to his knees and catches some of Connor’s pre-come on his tongue. He raises his eyes to Connor’s face and bats his lashes.

“Oh my god. Oliver. Ollie. God. Ohhhhhh…” That look and the feel of Oliver, Connor raises his hands above him, above them, letting his head drop back. His skin is sizzling. Oliver is sizzling. He‘s snared in Oliver, in his scent, in his mouth. The air feels thick, viscose, like honey. His cock is on fire and that’s just from the feel of Oliver on him. He’s been starving for Ollie all summer. Skin hunger.

Oliver starts licking a stripe on the underside of Connor’s cock., allowing his nose to nuzzle along his length as he does so. Connor bucks his hips and Oliver swallows him whole.

Connor can feel him EVERYWHERE. He starts fucking into Oliver’s mouth and they find a rhythm together, both far too gone to be scared of what this means. But then sex between the two of them has always taking precedence over actual communication, and was always incredible.

Oliver eases his mouth up and down, up and down Connor’s cock, grabbing at his arse to keep himself steady. Connor is mesmerised by the curve of his mouth and the beads of sweat trickling down Oliver’s back. He bends himself down to kiss the sweat off, curling in like a pretzel so Oliver’s hard word isn’t disturbed.

Oliver slips off with a pop. “Are you really licking up my sweat?” he asks incredulously. It comes out more like a rasp, his breath hitching.

“I’m the sad sack who’s been celibate all summer” Connor defends himself.

“Why?!” Oliver snorts disbelievingly.

Connor pleads “my cock needs the best fucking like you wouldn’t believe.” He doesn't want to tell Oliver that no-one could live up to him. Or that he doesn't think anyone could deserve him.

Oliver pushes his bewilderment to the side and goes back to servicing Connor’s pulsing cock. My god he’s enjoying himself, he sighs. He kneads Connor’s arse, thinking he must’ve been running a lot instead of sleeping around, his butt muscles feel amazing. Such a sweet arse.

Connor’s whole body shudders pleasure. “You said that out loud baby.” Connor gasps. His orgasm is building, Oliver deep-throating him whilst massaging his arse like it’s some treasured object, Connor’s feeling overwhelmed.

He truly hasn’t been having sex, no-one has turned his head, all he can see everywhere is Oliver, so instead he’s been running. Running desperately. Sprinting the summer away. The sadness away. It had almost worked…

Connor’s whole body is tingling, sizzling, he can feel the pressure mount. “Ollie, I’m so close!” He cries out.

“I know baby; you can do it” Oliver soothes Connor through it. “Come for me” he moans along Connor’s cock, then hums nonsense as his own straining erection becomes known. He concentrates on leading Connor to his sweet release.

Suddenly Connor screams and Oliver feels his come pumping down his throat. Oliver drinks it all, “Oh oh oh oh” Connor is still crying out.
Oliver knows he’s going to miss the sounds Connor makes. He’ll miss the incredible sex for ever. He’ll miss waking to Connor’s insatiable kissing.

Oliver eases off Connor’s cock as he rides out the orgasm.

“Oliver, I” Connor sounds wrecked. He looks wrecked but he’s still a beacon of light. Oliver slowly climbs to his feet, unsteady, his own cock making a damp stain at the front of his work trousers. “Oliver, can I?” Connor smiles lazily and gestures to Oliver’s thrusting cock, dazed on the comedown from his own orgasm but his gaze desiring and pulsing.

Oliver blinks rapidly and stares down to where Connor is looking. Connor’s smile was like the sun, distracting Oliver from his own physical desire.

“Oliver, are you okay to, I want to –“

“Hmmm?” Oliver is a bit dazed himself.

“May I ride you hard?” Connor finally growls.

Oliver snaps to attention. “Fuck yes, Connor. You can do anything to me, Connor as long as you, just, make sure you kiss me hard before you go.”

Connor kisses Oliver so passionately it takes his breath away. Oliver hasn’t ever felt Connor feels so desperate or needy. They both spring apart, gasping heavily. Then Connor hoists Oliver’s legs around his waist and carries him to his (their thinks Connor angrily) bedroom.

“Such a gentleman,” Oliver teases, his cock bobbing against both of their bellies.

“Better late than never huh.” Connor tosses Oliver onto the bed, all thoughts of chivalry lost as he stares hungrily at Oliver’s dick, straining at his trousers.

“Will you be okay? That was some epic blowing. Your mouth, Ollie, fuck….”

Oliver blushes, then his eyes sparkle. “Bring me that hot arse.”

Connor kisses him hard before he complies. Summertime sadness be damned.