[HIPS] and [GRIND] please :>
Finn has been busy, and Oliver’s been clingy.
Every morning was made difficult when he would refuse to let them leave his arms for the first few minutes of the day, only relenting and letting them leave the bed when she promises to come back as soon as they can. When they’ve come back home at late hours, they barely have time to sit with him to have dinner before cleaning up to lay with him again.
Not only that, he’s been needy.
Of course, he didn’t miss them solely for lustful reasons, but it’s difficult to make himself feel good when he’s got all the ways Finn makes him whimper engraved into his memory. So as desperate as he may be, he refuses to lay a finger on himself unless they’ve told him to do so.
Perhaps that’s why he gives in so easily as he does at that moment, when Finn is pulling him in closer by the hips and encouraging him to grind against their thigh on a day he finally has them to himself.
Oliver’s got Finn boxed in against the kitchen counter, but there’s no real authority or command behind it as his grip on the counter tightens with each roll of his hips. His face moves to hide in the crook of their neck as he groans brokenly, the sound ending in a whine as more pressure is added against his cock through his trousers.
“That’s it, so good for me, always so perfect, my beautiful boy…” Finn praises next to his ear before they latch onto a patch of skin above where his pulse would be, his hips twitching and faltering at their words. Her hands untuck his dress shirt and slip underneath it, roaming the skin of his back and making him shiver.
Their teeth lightly graze his neck and he whimpers pathetically, an arm moving to wrap around their waist and press them closer against him. It’s been too long, he’s nearly painfully hard as he ruts against them like some desperate animal, and Finn isn’t helping him hold back from coming in his pants at any moment.
“Please, please, I need you,” Oliver quietly begs, sounding like he’s one rejection away from shedding actual tears. At any other moment of any other day, he would’ve at least felt some form of mortification from giving in so damn quickly, but he could care less right now. Just their hands on his skin get heavenly in and of itself.
“Please, mommy, I missed you— please make me feel good…” He breathes out in between panting breaths, a feeble sound getting stuck in his throat when he feels the hand on his waist tighten from the title. One of their hands moves to brush through his curls, making him whine as she coos at him.
“Shh, it’s okay, sugar. You really do need it, don’t you? Poor thing… mommy’s going to take care of you, I promise.”
They gently shush him again, pulling back enough to gently hold his chin with the same hand that had been in his hair and guiding him to rest his forehead against theirs. Oliver moves forward to brush their lips together, but not closing the distance just yet. He wanted their permission.
He was Finn’s good boy, after all.
