Black Velvet (81) (Patreon)

Ok guys!  I know I had been slacking on Black Velvet updates before I took my break, but I was so burnt out on this book that it wasn't even funny.  Low and BEHOLD, I reread it over the weekend and decided that Tobias and Oliver are top tier soulmates so I need to give this book more love.  💖 (and they need to kiss more. hello.)

Sorry but this will get a little NSFW before it gets back to slice of life and comedy 🫣

Warnings for: Oliver being embarrassing. Mildly NSFW content towards the end (it's just kissing ok! Sort of! Not really!) tobias has been deprived of affection, so sorry that the sweet scene went steamy, my bad, 🤧 (aka tobias' bad)

—

"Um."  I realize that I'm gripping his pants leg with an absurd and possibly painful amount of strength, just so that I don't find myself being thrust out of some alternate dimension where Tobias loves —

No.

I may have fallen into some unending well of self-doubt if Tobias had said this months ago, but now, it just feels like he's stated a truth.  He's told me water is wet, elephants can't jump, or — or it's impossible to lick your own eyebrow or,

I mean, sure, the conversation that preceded this topic was about me stealing a sixth grader's cheesy chips for sneezing on me, but possibly, that's very endearing,

"Oliver,"  Tobias' hand drops, startling me back to the present, and he leans back onto the weight of his palms to eye me, brows raised in a way that says he's partially concerned but mostly uneasy,  "you okay?"

"Yes, very okay,"  I assure him.  Still, I must sound at least a little panicked because Tobias is making a face like I might dive into the water and swim back to Jameson, which is a valid concern at this point.  If I could swim, "it's just that I think I misheard you — and if I didn't mishear you, I've definitely ruined the biggest and best moment of my life.  That's all."

Tobias' brows finally settle before they gather, and his lips go crooked with well-deserved arrogance,

"The best?"  He echos, while I'm still replaying what exactly it is I've said to make him look so smug.

Oh.  Those two words are it.

With burning ears, I nod, eyes averting to the swaying cattails, the water — and then back to him,

"The best." This timid confirmation softens Tobias' smirk into seriousness, and I kneel forward into where he's leaned away, my knees against his crossed legs. "I mean," I push my palms over my thighs, embarrassed, off-key, and two minutes too late.  "What I mean is, that I know you already know, but still,"

Tobias sits up slowly, staring with a strange mix of severity and caution — like he's afraid to miss something.  There's the rustle of his movement, birds in the trees, near and distant, and the stillness of the lake beside us.  It's neither grandiose nor inspiring.

It's another simple moment, between the two of us, that feels monumental.

I squeeze my eyes shut.  For something so true, and likely already known, I feel vulnerable to saying it out loud.  But Tobias was brave.  Tobias, given everything, was brave enough to say what we both already know, so,

"I love you too."

The back of my head doesn't hit the soft earth, the long grass, or the longer cattails because Tobias cups his hand behind it right before my shoulders touch the dirt.   And before I can complain, he kisses me.  I open my eyes in surprise, just to be met with his black, heavy lashes — beauty marks that are growing less clear the darker his olive skin grows in Huxley's sun.

Tobias inhales like he's breathless — like this was some sort of chase, and he's caught me. He presses his lips against mine just a bit harder on the second and third kiss — and I return them, my own eyelashes fluttering shut, and his weight settles between my open legs.

"Sorry," he whispers, and it must be his desperation that he apologizes for, because his hands slip underneath the fabric on my back. He ducks his head, brushes his lips against my jaw, my collarbone, and I can't ignore the way that my stomach flips.

"Don't be sorry," I push up onto my elbow to kiss him back, just as desperately — and watch him as I pull away, eyes lidded. Tobias retrieves one hand only to pluck up my fidgeting arm, wrapping it around his shoulders, and he trails his lips to my nose and kisses me again. My hand twists in the fabric on his back.

I can feel him kiss my cheek, staring at the trees over the broadness of his hunched shoulders. I tug his shirt when his lips trail to my neck, my nerves suddenly and acutely aware — goosebumps on my arms, and then he kisses me harder near where my jaw meets my ear.

Tobias pulls back just a bit — his arrogant smirk gone, his gaze heavy with the weight of a burgeoning desire, and it strips the innocence from the air.

"This is why you shouldn't wait so long to kiss me," he chides, pushing me back against the banks.

I can feel small, stray rocks dig into my spine, but I don't care, latching on tighter to him when he presses his mouth against mine — nearly too harsh, my breath startled out of me, arms curling around him in belonging, and his hands are on me, up the tops of my arms, squeezing, down my sides.

He tilts his head downwards to deepen his kiss and raises both hands to cup my face when my hands move to the top of his chest. There's a quiet sound that comes from one of us, and I'm not really sure who. I can feel his heart under my palms, and it thunders quickly.  I can feel my hips pushing against his stomach — his eyelashes against my cheek.

Eventually, Tobias pulls away.

"We're outside," I say, for him, breathless and covered in dirt. "We probably shouldn't..."

"Yeah." Our gaze holds like this, in a way it hasn't in a while — between exhaustion, school, everything,

And I realize, pulse frantic, that I miss it.

He starts to drag himself away from me, like he's taking my timid observation of being outdoors as a polite rejection, and I don't think before I reach out and grab him because, despite what we should be doing, I want him to kiss me,

So I say that.  It sounds a lot like a plea.

Tobias tugs me to him, presses back into my space harshly, too earnestly, wants too much.

I'd give him anything.

He kisses me again, slides his tongue into my mouth like it's where it belongs, trails his hand up the back of my shirt — under where my thin work cardigan is buttoned, and breathes out something harsh, something heady, I don't know what he's saying, and I don't even know if he wants me to —

Because Tobias kisses me silent, runs his hand over my backside, and squeezes the backs of my thighs before he leans back far enough to lift me into his lap.  I grasp at his shoulders in surprise, and gasp as his teeth snag my lip.

I let out a softer sound as the pain dulls, and he's grinding up between my legs, so I reach, either bold or stupid or totally situationally unaware, and snag the button of his jeans.  Tobias groans in anticipation, and I falter, flushed and hot, our kiss turning clumsy, wet, and desperate.  My hand slips inside his boxers, long fingers not enough to reach all of him,

"Fuck," he mutters, unashamedly seeking friction with two bruising palms to my side, and I don't know why I nod to that — hazed and following his movements, my chest against him, my lips seeking his again. I moan into his mouth, the hand at the back of my head is pushing me closer as he thrusts upwards into my clumsy fist, precum dribbling over my fingers— his tongue sliding against mine,

"Tobias — Tobias, the zipper,"  I'm squeezing my thighs around him eagerly, my hand rewrapping snugly around the weight of him as he peels down his zipper with a sharp breath through his nose, "thank you."

His chuckle is cut off by a squeeze of my hand, and I shudder as a low sound forms in the back of his throat.

"We should,"

We startle when we hear a dog barking in the distance, my request lost to the unfortunate dose of reality — and that reality being that we could be registered as sex offenders —

I still long enough that Tobias' thumb trails my cheek as he pulls away.

"Oh, um," I tug my hand from his pants awkwardly, and myself off his lap with shaking legs, laughing quietly as Tobias reaches to situate my rumpled clothing. "That got — less romantic."

I don't feel too out of place — for once, regardless, because I'm thinking, Tobias loves me.  Anything embarrassing or inexperienced melts into that simple fact.

"I — dogs, I wasn't sure if,"  I start again, breathless, before glancing back at his textbooks, and changing my mind,  "guess you got a break in, huh?  What do you have to do next?"

Tobias exhales unsteadily as he stands, leaning into my ear as he plucks a piece of grass from my curls.

I can feel his chest against my back as he refastens the button of his jeans,

"...You have work in the morning, yeah?"

I nod, brows gathering at the out-of-place question — Tobias' voice rough and different and somehow so familiar.  But Tobias' fingers gather in my hair before they slide down my neck,

"Isn't my house closer?"