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Under Your Hand

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Slade grumbled under his breath as he hiked back towards the plane, cursing the rain and his luck to have been caught in the sudden downpour while out hunting. The rain had of course forced him to turn back. He knew nothing would be moving, that the game was doing the smart thing and seeking shelter from the rain. His clothes were soaked and he silently hoped that Oliver had had enough brains to get a fire going. Reaching the plane he was glad to see the faint flicker of firelight through the hole that served as an entrance. Kid had some brains at least.

Without a sound he stepped through the entrance, about to speak, to let Oliver know he was back only the words stuck in his throat and his mouth went dry as he took in the sight before him.

Oliver was laid out on the rough blanket that made up his sleeping space, his shirt had been raked up, exposing his chest, the scars that Billy had given him, and his pants had been shoved down to mid-thigh, body on display like a damn model. One of the kid's hands teased his nipples while the other was stroking his cock, which was leaking heavily, precum dribbling over the kid's knuckles and between his fingers.

Slade knew he should step back, go back outside, make some sort of noise and give Oliver a few minutes to right himself but he couldn't seem to make his body move, his gaze remained fixed on Oliver, on the way the kid's hand moved, the twist and slide, the kid clearly lost to his pleasure. Looking at Oliver's face revealed the kid's eyes were screwed shut, mouth hanging open slightly as soft little pants fell from those pale lips, a moan now and then when he rubbed his thumb just under the head of his cock.

It was just all too much to ignore, especially when Slade had been stuck on this godforsaken island for nearly a year and a half.

Careful not to make any sound, he stripped out of his wet gear, until he was only wearing his pants, mindfully placing the soaked clothing near the warmth of the fire, before he slowly, methodically, made his way to where Oliver lay. Silent as a shadow, years of training his advantage, he settled down next to Oliver, watching the kid work his cock for a moment or two before he leaned a little closer. He couldn't help but smirk as he ran his hand down Oliver's chest, watching as Oliver jerked in surprise, eyes flying open and that wide blue gaze fixed on him.

"Wha..." Oliver stuttered, starting to pull his hand away from his cock, but Slade quickly grabbed his wrist, leaning in to nip lightly at the kid's ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and worrying it, his smirk widening when Oliver gasped.

"Don't stop," he whispered as he moved his hand over Oliver's, slowly guiding the younger man to continue. "Jerk that pretty cock."

Oliver made a soft sound and he looked for all the world like he wanted to say no, to stop, but his hand began to move again, slower now, clearly uncertain what game Slade was playing or how far it was going to go.

"Come on, kid," Slade murmured. "Show me how good it feels. Show me how much you enjoy it."

A soft whine fell from Oliver's lips as he picked up the pace ever so slightly.

"That's it." Slade praised even as he dipped his head, nuzzling at Oliver's neck. "Feels good doesn't it? Best feeling in the world, short of fucking or being fucked, isn't it?" Oliver's hips bucked and Slade took a moment to nip and suck at the skin of Oliver's neck, leaving a red mark. "Keep stroking that cock, kid. Stroke it like you're getting ready to fuck some pretty little thing."

Oliver groaned, thumb pressing just under the head, precum oozing down over his knuckles. "Slade...oh fuck..."

"Or maybe," Slade pressed on, sliding his hand up Oliver's arm, fingertips dancing over bare skin, making Oliver quiver. "Maybe it's not the thought of fucking someone that's got you so fired up, hmm? Maybe you're stroking your pretty cock imagining a nice, thick cock splitting you open. Filling you up and stretching that tight little arse of yours." Oliver moaned and arched, hand moving faster, his eyes falling shut again as Slade's fingers grazed his nipples, rubbing one and then the other.

Slade made a low sound, deep in his chest, as he sucked and licked at Oliver's neck, darkening his mark, fingers twisting and playing with the kid's nipples, enjoying the way it made the younger man hiss and arch, hips bucking up to shove his cock through his fist. It was an intoxicating sight. And the sounds, God the sounds the kid made, it was better than any porn Slade had ever seen.

"Yeah, that's it." Slade lifted his head a bit, watching Oliver's hand work his cock, watched the way those long fingers stroked and rubbed at silky hard flesh. He reached down and grazed his knuckles over the head of Oliver's cock, smirking when the kid bucked again, moaning loudly. "You lay here, thinking you're all alone, stroking this pretty dick, imagining how much better it would be if you had a cock in your arse, fucking in and out of you, hard and deep. Taking you apart, inch by inch, until all you could think about was how good it felt.

Tell me, who would it be, hmm? Who would get the privilege of having you beg for their cock? Who would you beg to fuck you senseless?"

Oliver whimpered and shook, his eyes slowly opening by some force of will, locking with Slade's nearly black gaze. "Slade...please..."

"Tell me." Slade bit at Oliver's neck, making the kid squirm and cry out. "Whose cock do you want? Come on, kid, tell me while you stroke yourself."

Slade gliding his fingers down, pressing the tips against Oliver's balls, making the kid cry out again and his hips leave the ground, fucking his fist faster.

"I..." Oliver gasped, biting his lip for he threw his head back, a wanton moan slipping from his mouth. "Slade, I..."

Slade slipped his hand lower, passed the fabric of Oliver's clothes to rub his fingers against the pucker of the kid's hole, feeling it quiver. Oliver gasped, hips reflexively pushing down, seeking more, but Slade slowly withdrew his hand, sucking on his fingers for a moment before returning them to Oliver's hole, rubbing and pressing until the tip of one slipped into the writhing body. Oliver gasped and arched.

"Slade!"

"Tell me."

"You!" Oliver bucked, pressing as close to Slade as he could all while stroking his cock faster. "Fuck...I want...you...want your cock...please...Slade please..."

Slade growl, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of Oliver's shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that there would most certainly be a bruise. It caused Oliver to cry out, hips bucking, his hand working faster and Slade, with a careful twist of his body and stretch of his free arm managed to grab a small bottle of oil from a discarded nearby pack. With ease learned over years Slade had his fingers slicked with the oil and was pressing one then two into the younger man's hole.

"Oh," Oliver gasped out, hand slowing as Slade's fingers, blunt but thick, twisted inside him, pressing deeper and deeper until finally..."FUCK!"

Slade grinned against Oliver's shoulder, pressing his fingers against that little bundle of nerves, watching as Oliver jacked himself quicker with every inward press of his fingers. He could tell when the younger man was ready to come by the way Oliver panted, his motions becoming more erratic and, once again with practiced ease, Slade pulled his fingers from Oliver's hole, earning a groan of disappointment from the kid.

Before Oliver could fully process what was going on, Slade had caught his wrist, tugging his hand away from his cock, which flopped to lie, hard and an angry red, against the kid's belly. With a wicked grin he quickly had the kid's pants stripped from him and was positioning himself between Oliver's spread thighs. He slicked his cock up with some of the oil and pressed the head to the kid's hole, pressing the head in before stilling and leaning in over Oliver, who was gasping and panting and writhing.

"Slade...Slade..."

"Shh." Slade pressed a quick kiss to Oliver's collarbone even as Oliver's hands gripped his shoulders tightly. "Just relax, kid. We're getting to it."

Oliver let out a whine, which he would forever deny, which turned into a shout of surprise and pleasure when Slade's hips snapped forward, burying himself balls deep in the younger man. When Slade began to thrust inside with long, hard strokes Oliver cried out, the head of Slade's cock pegging his prostate with every inward thrust and then dragging back over it with each outward pull.

Rough gasps escaped Slade's mouth, groans and growls, and Oliver shivered in response. He whined loudly when Slade's stubble brushed against his neck when Slade pressed in close, hips snapping sharply, grinding their hips together and making Oliver cry out again.

"Fuck...Slade...oh my God!"

Slade grinned as he grabbed hold of Oliver's hips, using his grip for leverage, watching as Oliver writhed and all but fell apart. "Come on," he hissed as he felt the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, the way his stomach tighten and pressure build up low in his gut, knew he wouldn't last much longer, and judging from the sounds Oliver was making the kid was just as close. "Come on, kid. Fuck...jerk that cock...show me...show me how much you love my cock."

Oliver panted, eyes half closed as he did what Slade said, jerking his cock in time with Slade's thrusts. The angle just right. The pressure just right.

"SLADE!"

Oliver all but screamed as he came, spilling his load over his hand, over their bellies.

With a half a dozen more thrusts, Oliver's body quivering around him perfectly, Slade came. He shuddered against Oliver with desperate jerks of his hips, hand tightening almost painfully around the kid's hips, until he finally came down from the high of his release. He slumped against Oliver who, surprisingly, rubbed a hand lightly over his back. After a few minutes of basking in the rather pleasant afterglow, Slade slowly, carefully, pulled out. He knew he should get cleaned up, should check his clothes, but as he slumped down to lay next to Oliver, who'd removed his shirt at some point, he just honestly couldn't be bothered.

When Oliver's fingers found their way into his hair he just rolled his eyes, glancing at the kid's face, finding those bright blue eyes, still half closed, watching him warmly.

Slade made a low sound and let his own eyes slip shut as he slung an arm over Oliver.

He'd worry about his clothes later.