The shower-streams poked on Oliver's back, and the water felt chillingly hot on his skin. Oliver let his hand rub through his arm, his chest, his neck, where he closed it to a fist. He could feel the heat seeping through, yet deep inside there was still this cold emptiness he couldn't quite reach.

Oliver let his hand run down, and stroke his half-erect member. He let out a soft moan and then let his hand return to his neck. It would be a lie to say Oliver wasn't excited. He was. But he was also scared. This would be their first, and Oliver wouldn't want to mess it up.

Suddenly as the shower surged the floor quaked. Oliver held his hand onto the wall but before he could secure himself the tremor had stopped. In the next few moments, the shower grew silent.

Oliver wondered what it was, then he thought about where it came from, but after a while, he just shook his head and turned off the tap. Oliver came out of the cubicle and stepped onto the mat, grabbing his towel then looking up as he dried himself. The edges of the mirrors were fogged, and the puffs of steam were swirling and eddying, filtering the light like thin mist.

Safe, but lonely.

Oliver ruffled his hair with the towel again before returning it to the hanger. He looked at the door, down, then to the mirror. He looked at his red eye, then to his yellow. Then he looked at them both.

He felt the cold creep in again. Shivers. And as the anxiety snaked back in he looked away. Not because he saw himself ugly; he knew he was at least somewhat attractive, but he still couldn't bear to watch himself.

When it finally disappeared, Oliver looked back the at the door. He reached for it, and when his hand touched the handle, he turned it open. He walked to the edge and looked in, and saw Len sitting on his bed, already topless. Then a tingle—cold—as convection blew from behind.

Oliver stepped in, and with his first step he realised the room had been warmed. The floor was heated and the air was just right.

Len noticed Oliver. He had this light pink plush on his cheeks as he looked away, and Oliver found that adorable. Oliver closed the door and the room turned twilight.

Argh.

Oliver approached him. Len looked at Oliver and looked away, and Oliver could see Len fiddling his hands on the bed, like he was nervous.

Oliver sat beside him, and Len shifted away to give him more space, and he moved his hand away to his thigh then back.

Does he—Does he—not want this after all?

Oliver decided to break the ice. "Len..."

He jumped a little, and peeked at Oliver before looking back away.

Who knew someone like Len would be this shy.

"Oli... I'm..."

Oliver waited.

Len blushed, and spread his legs slightly, letting his bulge gain shape through his shorts.

Oliver took it as a sign he was ready and placed his hand on it. He rubbed it lightly with his thumb, and looked to Len, already panting.

"Ah~n—Oliver."

"Len," Oliver said, and looked into his eyes.

Len nodded, and with that Oliver snaked his hand under. Len was already hard, and choked by the tight boxers he was wearing.

Slowly, as Len leaned back, Oliver peeled the piece of clothing off, and his dick immediately bounced up. He was fully hard, and his tip, only barely covered at all, was glistening with pre-cum. And he was a good six inches too, with a healthy shape; it made Oliver hungry.

"Len," Oliver said again. You're beautiful.

Len looked down, and smiled. He then shifted his hip slightly, and thrusted it slightly forward to give Oliver a better look. Though he was still shackled by the pants down his legs.

Oliver felt his erection starting to hurt. He moved it beside Len's and compared it. Len saw the difference and made a disappointed smile. "You're bigger than me," he said.

"Only by an inch," Oliver replied, "Besides, I like yours just the way it is. It looks perfect on you."

Len blushed.

Oliver felt Len's dick with his fingers, slowly, caressing its smooth skin; then he wrapped his palm around him, his thumb slowly stroking over the shaft. Len leaned his head back and moaned, "hah-aah, Oliver."

Oliver stopped, but kept his hand on, and waited. Len returned, and looked at him. His eyes sparkled. You could tell he wanted more. Then Oliver, with his other hand, tugged on Len's arm, and pulled it towards his dick.

Len was shy at first, but then he touched it—and oh how good it felt—and slowly he felt his fingers around it. Oliver loved this—he loved feeling Len roam around with curiosity, loved feeling Len's lust for him.

"Oh, Len."

He looked up, and their eyes connected. Oliver pushed his hip forward, and quickly Len searched around again, stroking gently—Oliver loved how powerless he felt with Len curled around his dick, and how he knew he could make Len feel the same way with just a jerk of his hand.

Slowly, Len found his way to Oliver's tip, and he was hesitant to touch it, but he was adventurous enough to stroke it through Oliver's foreskin. Oliver thrusted his dick forward and moaned, and tried to control himself but he was losing—all he could think was Len, and more—harder—

Oliver clenched his grip on Len's dick and began stroking. Immediately Len squealed, took his hand back onto the bed and arched his back; he spread his legs, and he moaned, moaned uncontrollably, shouting Oliver's name.

Oliver pumped faster, and he watched Len's face, messed up, drooling, his eyes rolled up. He tried to cover his mouth but the squeaking—the hitched panting kept coming. Len was completely powerless, Oliver knew this, and savoured it. He is the one giving Len all this pleasure; he is the one turning Len into this mess of lust—lust and moaning and struggling left and right. With his other hand Oliver directed his tip and let it touch Len's belly. Len jerked and moaned right after—"I'm cumming, Oliv-aah-er, I'm cum-ah." Then as Len's noises paused at a peak, a tremble, and stream of thick white liquid shot up, and Len groaned, as he spouted another two streams, sputtering on his chest and tummy.

Len panted, and panted as he tried to wipe his drool on the bed, then he closed his eyes. Oliver watched this, watched his boyfriend, covered in his own cum, savour the pleasure Oliver had given him. His calm, satisfied face. The rise and fall of his chest. And his dick, throbbing, tucking back in, for comfort.

After a few seconds, Len looked up. His eyes were watery and clear, and his pupils were dilated, cute.

Oliver shifted closer, and Len placed his hand on Oliver's dick again.

"Your turn," he said, smiling, and Oliver could only brace.

Len started slowly, and Oliver moaned and let his knees weaken. He fell back, and then spread his legs, made himself vulnerable.

Len slowly took up speed, and gradually Oliver's vision clouded. His hearing muffled, and all he could feel was Len's hand, Len's smooth hand on his dick—Len pumping him, hammering his base, and stroking his length, rubbing his tip, pressing, pressing, stroking—jerking—

"Nnghmha, Len," Oliver moaned, leaning, arching, supporting himself with only his hands as Len continued, continued—he couldn't stop anymore and as his dick started to numb he could feel it closer, closer, as the tension built up more and more—More!—More!

"Aaah-mm," Building up Oliver could feel it—in his hips, as if he was about to burst—he couldn't hold it back anymore, couldn't stop it anymore—"Len-ah—i'm—hmm~hah—cumm-ah"

Oliver felt a slight tug as Len pulled his erection down and Oliver moaned from the shock—and as the tension peaked, leaked, his dick throbbed, and lust—thick, streamed, shot out—and another throb another stream—

Len—Len—fuck.

Oliver looked down, looked at his cock as it beat again, dripping the last of his seed onto Len's hand. Then he looked at Len, his face covered in sticky white cum—his cum. Oliver could almost feel horny again, but he was too tired for it. For now he just wanted to sleep with Len. Len.

Len let go of Oliver's dick, pearly white liquid dripping down its edge. Len took his hand to his mouth and licked it, and immediately his face lit up.

"This is what I did it for," he said, giggling slightly, "I love it! it's so—" he trailed off before taking some of the cum on his face and licking it up.

"Len," Oliver said, leaning forward, "Len,"

Len savoured the taste, closed his eyes for a second and smiled.

Oliver smiled back, then he looked at Len's abdomen, his release still all over his body, though some of it had turned clear and watery.

"Want to... taste it?" Len asked, shifting his body a bit closer.

"Of course," Oliver replied, leaning forward. "You're—okay with this right?"

Len nodded.

Oliver leaned in, positioned his mouth just before a patch of Len's cum, and licked it up. Slightly salty, with a mellow chloriney smell, a bit sweet and—and it was just nice—it tasted like, like——

Oliver licked up all the cum from Len's body, earning a couple 'hmm's and 'hunn's from his lover, and savoured it all. He closed his eyes and let the flavour permeate his mouth, let every inch of his mouth drench, soak in Len's goodness. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Len, who seemed a bit pleased.

"I didn't know if you were going to like it," Len said.

"I love it!" Oliver replied, still not gulping it down, "Now I'm dying to taste it fresh," he said.

Len blushed, "your fault for being so horny."

Oliver laughed. "Yeah," he said, "but it's also your fault for being horny first."

For a moment, they were silent, and their gazes connected again. Then Oliver lifted the blanket from beside Len, and laid himself down, covering them both from the neck down.

"Eugh I can smell my cum on your face," Oliver said.

Len laughed, "it's great."

"The only thing that makes it tolerable is that it's on your face," Oliver said, "pretty hot—but otherwise I'd flush it down the drain."

Len mocked disbelief, "Have you ever tasted it?"

"Once."

"No way," Len said, "It tastes so good."

Oliver blushed. "Yours tastes way better."

"No way."

"Yeah. And I'm a vampire, I have more experience."

Len tried to cover his face with a blanket. "Experience?"

"Tasting cum duh."

"Ollie!"

"Love you."

"Oliver!"

Oliver giggled, and slowly tugged the part of the blanket between them away. Len was red—it was clear he hadn't had too much experience talking about sex.

"You're okay with this right?" Len asked softly, "I don't have to clean up or anything?"

"No," Oliver scoffed, and smirked, "I don't mind. Why?"

"I—want to sleep like this."

"You're still horny?"

Len shook his head, "well, maybe a little, but I—I—"

"I get it," Oliver said, "I feel the same way. Come on." Oliver wrapped his arms around Len, and Oliver pulled them together. Their lips met, and every part of their body touched each other. Chest on chest, dick on dick, feet on feet. Len's chest was still damp, and their members were still wet. As they rubbed Oliver could feel the remnants of their lust mix together. And their feet, tickling touching, Len held back a laughter through the kiss, and that almost made Oliver laugh too. And then Len's hand reached Oliver's back, and he could feel his soft hand caressing him slowly. Oliver made sure to do the same.

Oliver pulled his head away and as Len opened his eyes he could see inside Len's eyes. Len's blue eyes. Oliver teasingly put his hand on Len's behind, and pressed their parts together, and that made Len moan, laugh, and punch him on the back.

"Ow," Oliver laughed, and Len pulled his hip back.

"You're going to make me horny again."

Oliver rubbed the spot Len hit him. "Maybe that's what I want?"

They laughed together for a while, and slowly, as it became comfortably warm under the blanket, their laughs drowned out, and they connected their hands, watched each other. Len looked stellar, Oliver thought, even with, no, especially with his hair all messy like that.

Finally, "Oliver," Len said.

"Hm?" Oliver replied.

"—I love you."

Oliver took a moment to process the words. Then he snuggled closer, and hugging tightly, he buried his face in Len's shoulder.

"I love you too, Len."

Forever

Forever