Black Velvet (76) (NSFW - EXPLICIT CONTENT) (Patreon)

(A/N:  NSFW.  Warnings for explicit content, penetrative sex, lots of cussing from Tobias.   Honestly, this is as explicit as it can get in Oliver's POV (but OG readers know Oliver isn't innocent just because he's a giant goofball) also should give a warning for very mild masochism, mildly rough sex.

 I thought of making their first time awkward, but even if it was actually awkward, neither would know because they want each other so badly, so here it is 😇 (I also have just never imagined Oliver being shy)

P.S.  this is unedited so I'm so sorry if there are mistakes but I am dying from a cold and this took me DAYS to write)

—

"You know, I'm not one of your old ladies back in Jameson. I'm not going to swoon for your flirting." I try to laugh it off, but my nose wrinkles with nervousness. "I'm — Uh, totally hard to get."

"Uh.  You sure?" Tobias mimics, rolling his eyes when I nod, then uses the arm he's propped on to lean over me and kisses the side of my head. Then, he kisses me softly.  It's then that I realize I've missed it. "...What was that at Edmund's?"

I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"It was the moon."

"Yeah?  Then we can skip the flirting and open the curtain,"

He lifts the blankets enough to slide between my legs and kisses me again, lazily, a rough slide of his mouth that mine opens in response to. The room is quiet.  I can hear the crickets just outside.  Tobias runs his tongue against mine, hands slipping up the loose cotton of the shirt of his I'm wearing, hands-on the overheated skin of my back.

"When you asked to stay over," Tobias arches my back to him and kisses under my ear, then runs his teeth against my neck, "you had no ulterior motives?"

I swallow, vision giving into sensation.  His teeth, his lips — and the weight of him.  It's less rushed than Edmunds, and he takes advantage of it.   He presses his thumbs into my shoulder blades, slips them downwards, grips my hips in his hands,

"Well..."  I breathe, feeling his palms pressing, kneading the lower side of my hips, then the tops of my thighs.  He pulls them up impatiently, spread against his lap, and keeps kneading them down, pressing me against him with each tug of his hands like he's already searching for friction.  My eyelashes flutter when he leans back to kiss my knee, "Were you thinking about this?"

"We can't all be saints, Oliver."  Tobias raises his eyebrow, trails his lips upwards, tugs my leg again, so I'm further up against how he's crouched between my thighs.  He rocks his hips forward as he runs his finger down the dip of my hipbone, rubs small circles like he's chasing away an ache, but I know better — I can feel how hard he is through the soft fabric of our sweatpants.

"... Well," I swallow, blinking away the fog of lust, "I might have."

"Sure you did."

"I...  I'm serious."  I flush as he curls over me, rakes one hand through my hair, and I feel his hips rock into my inner thigh harshly,  fingers in the strings on my pajama bottoms — loosening the bow I tied a few hours before.  "I studied.  I — Uh.  I prepared."

"You expect me to believe that?"  he presses his mouth over mine, kisses hard in the way that suggests he does, "all that shyness about the condom," his tongue slides in briefly, overriding his need to talk, "and you...?"

I nod, even though I'm lost to the rock of his hips, body starting to react, tiredness lost in the feel of muscle shifting under my palms.

"Yes," I can feel his teeth graze my neck a second time, his fingers under my sweatpants slip over my boxers with intent, and I buck against them, grind into his palm, "Ah.  I prepared." and he responds with a rough roll of his hips against my thigh again.

"You seem impatient." I gasp, clutching his shirt for purchase.

"Do I?" Tobias hums, slips his hand further between my legs, cups the skin of my backside.  "That's because you're riling me up."

And I almost don't notice how his hand reaches for his bedside drawer, slips inside discretely from the corner of my eye,

"I have my own condoms,"  Tobias informs me, a soft chuckle accentuating the dig towards my brother and the confirmation that he's prepared too.  "And lube, which is likely an anomaly to some."

"You would drop a word like anomaly."  I'm blushing, nodding my head in embarrassment as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to my throat, down my collarbone, sucks a dark patch into the top of my chest —

and when I'm almost quivering, he lays me back on his sheets,

"So you've...?"  He whispers, his fingers sliding through mine to carry his insinuation. I hardly hesitate before I nod my head, too embarrassed to verbalize a yes — and too desperate for the feel of him to ruin this, more so when he leans back on his knees to twist the cap off the container in his hand, "you think of me?"

I inhale — and nod.

"Want the real thing?"

I nod again.

"I need you to say yes."

"Are you going to...?"  I mumble, but I know exactly what he wants, flushing harder when he pulls my pajama bottoms off with ease, situating himself between my legs, "I mean.  Yes."

"But.  If you don't want to — I mean.  Listen.  Um.  You don't have to..." I start, but Tobias levels me with a dark look, hooks his fingers in my boxers, and yanks them down too,

"I want to," he mumbles, unabashed, "I want this.  You on my fingers," I feel my eyes hood, and he's pressing a soft kiss to my lips, a kiss that quickly becomes more tongue than innocence, "I want you to want it too."

But, in the end, Tobias is patient.

His kiss turns rough, his hands sliding under my shirt, the last piece of clothing he's left me.  I'm grabbing at his hair, and he's rocking his hips forward again without shame, our hips sliding against the thin fabric of his sweatpants, moans fluttering from me and out into the air like loud snaps of reality in the quiet bedroom, Tobias' hand kneading at my ass, grasping it, fingers sliding against spread skin.

With our bodies pressed flush together, my mind wounded between each arch; I can feel every inch of Tobias.  I can feel the way his dick kicks as it brushes roughly against the inside of my bare thigh, swollen and straining against the confines of his pants.

"Tobias,"  I inhale, rocking up, shoving at the fabric, seeming friction of a different sort.  "Take them off — please."

Tobias groans in response, nods as he shoves them down just enough to free himself, thick and full and leaking, drooling against my abdomen as he jerks it roughly —  hands pushing at my hips, commanding — herding them against the mattress as he presses himself against me.  I moan, soft and stricken by the sight.

"Please,"  I repeat.  I don't know what I'm begging for, but I'm pulled tight, arched like a bow, desiring more.

"Fuck,"  Tobias gasps, wild, as he shoves himself up, his weight balanced against his knees.  He pins me with a hand to my sternum when I try to follow, and I shudder as fingertips slide underneath my t-shirt, roaming up over ribs before they drag from my shoulder blades to the base of my spine. His mouth slips down, tongue slipping over my neck, teeth ungentle,

"You want me to fuck you?" and then I feel the heaviness in my stomach roll with pleasure, the cap to the bottle of lube snapping closed, loud in the quiet room,

"Yes."

I jerk upwards against his weight, as Tobias' slicked hand wraps around my length and drags slowly upwards, again, again, until I buck upwards — cry out, and then there's a pressure at my entrance, a force that feels slick and foreign,

"Relax,"  Tobias' doesn't sound relaxed, though. His voice is so low it chimes through my skin like a bell's echo, and I'm reacting to the sound of how uncontrolled it is, reacting enough that Tobias has pushed one finger slowly, up to the knuckle, and slides it back out just as easy — his breath shaky as he pulls back to watch my face,

"Tell me if it hurts," he's pressing off-center kisses against my lips, but I deepen them quickly as his finger re-enters, trying to focus on how the burn melts to a quick swipe of pleasure, how he's still rocking himself against me — and I rock back, humming with the burn,

"You kind of like the pain of it, don't you?"  Tobias is wrecked, I can hear it, but I can't even bring myself to speak — worse off than him, unable to appreciate his awareness, desperately trying for friction with my hips up against his bare, hard stomach, taut with restraint,

"Feels so different,"  I mumble, and he's slicking up another finger, testing how far he can push them with a quaking hand,

"God," he's clenching his jaw, and I'm bucking in slow increments against his hand, "look at you."

"Faster,"  I mumble, trying to get used to his fingers, pressing against his stomach, "please, please," he pushes his finger further, and I buck against it, flushed and reeling from it, mouth opening in a silent sound,

"Your fingers feel,"  I mumble, starstruck and trying to find where he had pressed against again, "so different."

Tobias curls the digits, and I push my forehead against his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut, holding another moan hostage.  It breaks free with a,

"More."

"Be patient," Tobias  groans, kisses me, and then he's steadily rocking his fingers, rocking another when he can, stretching me until it doesn't hurt as bad, and I can't find it in me to be embarrassed when he just seems to truly want me,

"When — when will you put it in?"  It's nearly irritable, but I'm digging the bluntness of my fingernails into his back with abandon, "I'm not — I prepared."

I — I realize that I want his hands on me, want to watch his waist flex when his hips are between mine.   I can't get his dark-eyed look out of my head, and I don't think I ever will be able to, because I want to know more about how he thinks — what he wants, and he likes —

What he feels.  I wonder what I could hope to make him feel.

I realize that he may have been wrong, that he may be Saturn, and I may just be every particle — every thought and desire circling him.  I hike my shirt up, out of the way, biting my index finger, lips dragging on the pillow cover that's rucked up beneath my head.

My desire is loud, I think, and I need to quiet it, but how do I quiet this?

He fucks his fingers forward, hard, almost like a scolding and I'm letting go of a whimper in my throat — one that's been lodged there, comes out desperate, and he pushes again,

"Yeah? Do you want to cum?" he breathes, and half of the offer is probably his own desperate need for release. I can feel him rocking into the crook of my hip, bruising in his intent, "fuck, I want to make you cum — if you could see the way you look."  He empathizes it with a quick curl of his fingers, and my eyes squeeze shut — another moan of his name shaking through me.

Tobias gasps,

"Tobias, now," I mumble, and Tobias' gaze snaps up, his pupils blown, "Tobias, if you make me come without — without fucking me,"

"Oliver."

"I won't forgive you,"  My face is hot, I can't keep myself from rocking down on Tobias' fingers, and he's reeling at the sight.  I feel my toes curl against the sheets — reach to tug my shirt over my head,

"Please?  Please.  You like that word, right?"

Tobias' teeth grit.  And what's pride?  I don't have it.  I need something, I need Tobias to feel how I feel, and he's showing no objections, but a forced smirk on his wild features,

"Tell me exactly what you want."  He's withdrawing his fingers, and I buck down at the loss, tugging the band of his sweats down further with quivering hands,

"I — I want you."

"You want me to do what?"  He's in my ear, and there's more lube trickling down his fingers, inside of me, dripping over his length.  I hear a package ripping, and I shy into myself for about two seconds — before his fingers are pressing back in and I'm losing dignity, gasping,

"Fuck me, now, Tobias!"  I wrap my legs around him, "damnit, I said please!"

Tobias looks hellbent.  I should not react with rocking down against his curling finger, but I do,

He groans, and he's bucking his hips into his curled fist.  I think he means to laugh at my irritation, but he's too distracted.

"Oh yeah?"  He laughs, but it's thick and low with want. "Whose impatient now?"

It's the confirmation he needs because he's pulling off his sweatpants quickly, kissing the bare skin of my inner thighs with more tongue than anything, huffing as he pushes them apart.  I bend upwards enough to shove the heap of blankets off his bed with my foot, ignoring the embarrassing moan that crawls out of my throat when his tongue trails over soft skin, but he doesn't.

Then, unashamed, I'm reaching for him, curling my hand over his dick, admiring how thick it is between my fingers — because it's not as hurried as the times before, I can see it slip upwards as his hips buck, precum beading at the tip of it as he huffs, and the way he jerks quick and hard when I can't help but touch myself too.

He grabs my hips, suddenly rolling to where his back is against the headboard and pulling me over on top of him.  I spread over his lap, stunned and exposed,

"What are you...."

"You're gonna need to ride me,"  He hums, but his words are spoken against the corner of my lip.  I can feel his fingers slip in again before he withdraws, and I buck down against nothing, but he's pushing my hand away and pulling me further into his lap.  "You control how much you can take."

"I don't know how!"

"I'll help you," Tobias whispers, voice raw and low, so close.  He's got one hand behind me, one hand guiding himself against me.  I can feel the press of him, can feel the warmth and heaviness there.  His tip pushes against where his fingers were, pushes as he strings his hand through my hair and pulls.  I gasp, gasp and then rock when I feel him stretch me,

"Oh, fuck."  His quiet utterance is drawn out, beneath his breath, a man starved for touch.  He's already trying to restrain his hips from pushing too fast,

"I'm," I inhale, pushing myself down a little further, feeling a tiny bit of pride with his startled breath. It's hard to string coherent thoughts together when I'm face to face with the pleasure that's clouding his expression, but eventually, I muster the words,

"I like this, and — when you're rough with me, Tobias."  his brows gather as he yanks my hair again, fingers curled close enough to my scalp that it's a dull pain when he bucks his hips —

when he pulls me down in a slow, arduous, shallow thrust, the tip of him burying inside and then pulling away just as slowly.

"Tobias," I moan, blissed-out, teased from Tobias' earlier ministrations — and curl my arms around his neck, nails digging into his shoulder blades.  "More, just — just fuck me already?  Why won't you...?"

"For fuck's sake,"  Tobias rocks his hips up hard, bottoming out, and I slam my hips down to meet him a second time, feeling complete, feeling good,  "you and your mouth,"  he rolls his hips up again and holds them there, and I feel my legs shaking, clawing into his back, "you're so fucking warm."

I know what he means. I can feel the heat of him stretching me, inside me.  I can feel him, his bare skin, pushed up against mine, and my nerves are a live wire, and it makes me feel wild — carefree, unashamed, and maybe it isn't the sort of sweet story of a first, but it's us, it's us,

"Stop teasing me,"  I rock my hips down against his, and when he stays rooted in place, I grab his hands and push them next to him on the bed, lifting up — rocking my hips down without help from him, and he grabs at them, holds them and tries to roll upwards, but I'm greedy, sounds leaving me that I'm still not entirely used to.

"Like that," his voice is tight, grip hard on my sides, "just like that."

I lift my hips and try to rock down again, but his hands wrap around my thighs and hold me up,

Tobias lays himself down against the bed, and I feel more exposed than with him against me, straddling his thighs and upright above him. I don't have time to feel self-conscious. He's already rocking upwards, upwards again, shoving up inside me without restraint, hard — the sound of skin slapping against the skin, the way I have to flatten both my hands against his abdomen to stay upright,

"Oh my God,"  I mumble, don't mean it to be as loud as it is, but he's pressing against something that's lighting my nerves, and he knows it, his eyes wild and dark, neck arching every time he thrusts.

"Tobias, it's too much,"

He closes his eyes every few seconds, like he feels the same, and spills out a string of cusswords before he pulls out and flips me onto my stomach,

I'm so desperate for him that I rock against the comforter, can feel him pulling my hips up from behind, and I don't even feel embarrassed when I'm on my knees because I'm too concerned with how to get him to hurry up.

"Come on, come on,"

then he's pressing in again roughly, with a palm in the center of my back, and I yelp because I haven't felt something so good, haven't felt so full, arch my back and press back against him when I hear him moan, when his hand hits the sheets next to me, and he starts to rock his hips, starts to fuck me with some sort of vengeance,

"You're so goddamn bossy," he mouths the tip of my spine, kisses it, bites the skin where my collarbone meets my shoulder.

He uses both his hands to pull me back into his thrusts, and I don't know if he sounds like I do, but the noises he makes make my legs shake — makes my vision blur at the edges,

"Mm, fuck,"  Tobias mutters, pulls my hips hard enough that his length hits deep, "What do you have to say now?" he rocks again, and I'm panting, trying to push back in time to meet him, but I'm a puddle.

"Want more?"  He taps my cheek and pulls me back to meet his kiss, and I crane my neck back enough to meet him, feeling him crouch lower to thrust upwards — chest flattening against my back,  his hand running along my chest, wrapping itself over my oversensitive length,  "not enough?"

"Tobias, now — it's really — too much,"  I whisper, bucking hard into his hand, "like this,"

He's pressing harder, faster, keep nudging his hips up into mine,

"Good," Tobias' voice comes through his teeth, low and unsteady, "you look like you love it," he's arching. I can hear him pant, listen to him — too far gone.  I reach between my legs as his hand falls away because I know he's close, and I jerk myself quickly, groan when Tobias' hips start to stutter when he pushes me down and pulls out — tells me to lay on my back.

But I push him down on his, and he lets me. I climb to straddle him with as much confidence as I can muster — because I'm growing petulant with his taunts,

"You told me to ride you."

I'm the one who pushes down on him this time. He rocks into me with a sharp thrust, eyes flickering up to my face when he starts to meet me off rhythm, too rough, and I feel him grab my hips a little too hard. I gasp — rolling my hips off-kilter into my fist and then down against him, reaching back to hold onto his knee — to let him hit deeper, back arched.

"Holy shit."  I feel the same build of warmth in my stomach when Tobias pulls me roughly to him, pressing in so deep and holds me there — and I watch him fall apart, watch his eyebrows crease, watch his mouth fall the slightest bit with a cut off groan,

and I know he's cumming because I can feel the jerk of his hips, the pulse of him.  I latch onto the sound, to the sight, feel it drive me over the edge, and I clench around him, finishing against my hand and his chest underneath me.

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter   |  First Chapter