Kyle couldn't believe Oliver actually showed up.
He said as much and was treated to the always entertaining display of flushed heat creeping up Oliver's neck and wished to hell it didn't somehow make all of this even worse. Or better.
"You said two-thirty, right?" Oliver's voice carried with it a thread of apology and, unless Kyle was only hearing what he wanted to hear, excitement. "Sorry I'm late…had a meeting with my advisor, then I had to move everything into the house and I didn't eat lunch and then I remembered you said two-thirty, at least I think you said two-thirty and my blood sugar gets low when I don't eat and it's easy for me to totally forget even important stuff, n-not that this isn't important, I mean—"
"I'm still here," Kyle interrupted easily, used to the hurricane of information that came spilling out whenever Oliver was remotely unsure of a situation. He sank farther into the cushion of his chair, adjusted the brim of his ballcap and sent the younger guy a quick, harmless grin. "It's all good, man. Pull up a seat, grab a drink, and tell me who you got stuck rooming with."
"Paul Matkis, but I'm pretty sure he'd say it's the other way around." Oliver laughed a little and took another few steps that put him within range for Kyle to wrap both legs around his thighs and force him closer.
If he'd had the balls to do it.
"Paul's only good company for an empty room," Kyle agreed. He watched Oliver closely from under the shield of his cap, drinking in every blond hair and dark freckle and nervous tic. After a minute of silent worship, he realized Oliver was clearly uncertain of what to say or do now that they were alone.
"So, " Oliver drawled, "this isn't, uh, some kind of…?"
He caught on quickly, and laughed. "Relax, Oliver. This isn't a secret hazing ritual…bring the newbie out in the middle of nowhere, fill him up with food and beer, then dump his body in a lake somewhere?"
Amazingly enough, Oliver did seem to relax. A sheepish grin lurked at the edges of his mouth…that gorgeous mouth, pink and pretty and meant for all of the things that plagued Kyle at night. "You said it, not me."
Kyle shifted in his seat, then cleared his throat to get the sudden and shocking – perfect – image of sweet, dependable Oliver Fish on his knees with cock in his mouth out of his head.
"I just wanted to hang out with you," he said honestly, and couldn't even be sorry about the husky tone he delivered it in. In a way, he looked at this as an opportunity, sure…and Oliver wasn't stupid. Maybe they'd only known one another for a couple of weeks at best, but they'd gravitated toward one another from the beginning. They got along great, better than some of the longstanding KAD brothers, and when Kyle found himself looking too much or too often at Oliver, he always found Oliver looking right back.
Something just kept him thinking about Oliver Fish, obsessing about the glimpses of possibility lurking in those pale green eyes. Something that weighed hot and heavy in his belly, his heart, between his thighs, and had him inviting the kid for an afternoon that meant much more than two Pennsylvania fratboys shooting the shit.
He'd felt it when he'd made the offer, and Oliver hadn't hesitated before agreeing. Those same green eyes blinking wide and black with pupil. With something.
"Well, I still feel bad," Oliver said, pulling Kyle back into the present. "And I brought a little something to make it up to you." He tossed Kyle a familiar brown sack from the liquor store down the street from the university.
"And you wanna be a cop." Kyle ducked his chin to hide the delighted, stupid grin threatening to break out across his face and pretended to ponder over the contents of the bag.
"What's that supposed to mean?" It came out exactly the way Kyle imagined it would – adorably flustered, with just a hint of defensive pride that was Oliver Fish. Kyle had never really cared for stubborn, gorgeous dorks, but he already cared too much for this one.
Instead of answering directly, Kyle simply let the smile melt his lips. Looked up and caught Oliver's gaze. "I probably shouldn't be contributing to your delinquincy, you know."
The mishmash of expressions that managed to cross Oliver's features in the split-second it took him to catch on had Kyle laughing out loud. "Six months," Oliver huffed, reaching over to sock Kyle in the shoulder even as he sank into the chair beside him.
"And then you'll be a real boy," Kyle quipped, cracking open a bottle of his favorite locally brewed lager and taking a grateful sip. Licking his lips, he slanted his eyes in Oliver's direction and found him looking quickly away from his mouth. Kyle smirked, even as his blood raced from the combination of alcohol and temptation. He pulled out another longneck and held it out. "You want?"
"N-No thanks." Oliver's voice was seemingly shot deeper with husk, and he held up a second, smaller sack with the same logo. His fingers were practically shaking. "Felt like something a little stronger, tell the truth."
Kyle pretended not to understand. "So, Oliver Fish…do you drink like one, too?"
"Like a fish," Kyle said, knowing the joke was lame, but the words they were saying were merely a cover for what was really going on. They both knew it, and the sooner Kyle figured out how to approach the simmering tension in a way that wouldn't send Oliver running for the nearest bus stop would—
His thoughts scattered like the wind when Oliver's shadow abruptly filled his vision. Strong fingers took the beer from between Kyle's fingers and set it between their chairs; Oliver's mouth was a pressed line, his eyes too big in his face as he stared at Kyle for a second that seemed to go on forever. Then, he was just there, and Kyle could touch, feel, and hear their mingled breathing.
"What are you doing?" he whispered against Oliver's mouth. God, Oliver's mouth…and he could catch just the faintest tang of soda on Oliver's lips. That small taste did more to screw his equilibrium than an entire afternoon of sun and liquor had ever done.
Oliver still hadn't answered, but his hands were slowly creeping up the inside of Kyle's thighs. Uncertain, awkward…it was completely Oliver, and everything Kyle had dreamed about for months. Dark, dirty, ideas of corrupting the sweet golden boy and dragging him down and inside out. Just like Oliver had done to Kyle himself from the moment he'd shown up and shrugged those big shoulders and grinned.
"Hey," Kyle murmured again, swallowing at the sight of those long fingers just inches away from his inseam. "Hey, slow down….Oliver, look, maybe we should--"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
The words came out jumbled and nearly desperate; Kyle had only another second to react before spit-slick lips caught his in a fumbling first kiss. He opened his mouth into it – in caution, acceptance, submission, hell he didn't know anymore – and a groan slid out of his throat.
That was all it took, and then Oliver was all over him.
"You make me crazy," he kept saying between small, almost angry bites at Kyle's mouth. "Wanna…what are you doing to me?" His voice hitched, breathless, fingers clawing at Kyle's cheeks to keep him from moving away. As if Kyle could even think of it. "I can't get you out of my head. Keep trying, know it's-it's wrong."
"It's not wrong," Kyle said, and his chest clenched tight when Oliver's eyes slowly blinked open and he caught the flash of anguish along with the heat. He wrapped a hand around Oliver's neck and held him in place. Neither one of them was trying to get away, not from this, this moment.
"Not wrong," he said again, softer, reassuring, and stroked his thumb along the pulse-point throbbing at Oliver's throat. "Look at me. I…" He bit his lip, the full weight of that nervous, hungry gaze trained on him. A small shrug of the shoulders, and, again, the simple truth. "Yeah. I feel it, too, Ollie."
A rush of breath, relief, frustration, hands climbing under his shirt, over his heart. "Then you should let me kiss you, Jesus, please."
"Maybe I should kiss you instead." Kyle's fingers found the hem of Oliver's shirt and tugged them even closer together. The sun was setting, sending shadows and gold across Oliver's face.
Mine, he thought with fierce, youthful determination, and Oliver's lips sealed the deal.