The little space left between them drove him mad.

James wanted to kiss him with a sort of desperation that he hadn't felt in a long time. Being locked in campus does that to a man used to a particular type of… lifestyle. He swallowed the knot in his throat. His heart was pounding. His eyes darted from Oliver's full lips to Oliver's round eyes, to Oliver's body.

"Why are you still wearing that uniform?" James asked, moving his hand teasingly under his shirt. Oliver laughed and pushed James on his back. He straddled him. James smiled.

"I can take it off myself," Oliver said, stripping his burgundy jacket. Then, he started unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly. So fucking slowly, James thought he was going to explode.

He grabbed Oliver by the waist, feeling him up. Oliver pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and leaned in. He didn't kiss James.

"What a tease," James said, lifting his head from the pillow in an attempt to close the space between them. Oliver placed his hand on his chest and pushed him back.

"No, no," he started, "I said I could be persuaded into liking a tough guy." He wiggled just a little on James' lap. It sent all kinds of feelings into him, and by Gods, he was hard. He was needy.

James had to touch Oliver's stomach. He had to touch his chest and collarbones and neck. He reached his face and touched his soft, wonderful lips. Oliver opened his mouth and sucked on his finger. His eyes were big and round and green, and they were watching him so intently it was maddening.

"I think we can figure something out." James watched him suck on his finger, allowing his imagination to run wild. He wanted a fucking picture with that. Then, he pulled his hand away, grabbed Oliver by the waist, and threw him on the bed.

He moved on top, holding his weight on his elbows. Their faces were close again. James licked his lips. They were dry. He was craving a kiss. He was frantic for one, but he liked the little game they were playing.

"Take your shirt off," Oliver said. "It's only fair."

James didn't think to argue with that. He peeled off the old, black t-shirt he was wearing and leaned over Oliver again. He kissed his neck and started leaving a trail of pecks down his chest and stomach. He reached his navel.

"Is it working?" James looked up. Oliver had his mouth slightly opened.

"I might need a little more convincing." He smiled widely.

James touched the outline of Oliver's member thorough his pants. At least he wasn't the only one struggling with a hard-on. He opened his mouth and pressed it over it.

Oliver gulped and closed his eyes. James was just about to start unbuckling his belt. 

Then Victor started coughing.

It was so unexpected that James jumped up. Victor continued coughing until he woke up and started patting his pockets. He was wheezing.

James remembered his inhaler. 

Victor found it, placed it in his mouth, and pressed it. He breathed in slowly, for a couple of seconds, then held it in.

"Fuck," he cursed and rubbed his face. Oliver was looking at him, open-mouthed, still on his back, still shirtless.

James was just glaring. Of course, the thing that woke up the dead body from his usually unperturbable sleep was his fucking asthma! 

And Victor seemed completely and hopelessly unaware of the situation. Or he just couldn't be bothered. James suddenly had an urge to punch him. 

"Are you ok?" Oliver finally asked. His concern was genuine. Endearing even. 

That was the moment Victor looked in their direction. He was frowning, and his eyes were still a bit puffy from sleep. He was piecing together the scene, James realized. He also noticed the exact moment when it clicked in his head. 

Victor's eyebrow went up, and his overall blank expression changed into amusement. He started to laugh.

"How indecent."

James was horny beyond belief, and this guy had such a nice laugh. It went right to his groin. It did all the right things for him, for all the wrong reasons.

It was loud, booming even, and just like his voice, it sounded clear. It sounded oddly honest.

"Well, don't let me interrupt you," he said and looked towards the floor, right next to his nightstand. "Did any of you steal my pack of smokes?"

James snorted. Oliver looked offended.

"You want to smoke?" Oliver asked. "No. No, Victor, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Morales, someone stole my cigars. Are you paying attention?"

"Don't be fucking rude." James threw a pillow at him. It was the only thing he had on hand. "Nobody took your junk."

He did, James remembered. He was the thief, but he wasn't about to confess to that, not when he was still sporting a boner and was half-naked.

Victor sighed, complete disappointment written all over his face. He dropped his head back and groaned.

"Great." Victor checked his watch. He got up, grabbed some spare clothes from the closet, and walked into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he walked out, all nice and fresh. James didn't know if he looked better than usual, or he was just overwhelmed by hormones. He remembered what Oliver had said about fucking Victor. Yeah, he'd probably do it too. 

Victor somehow knew where an unopened can of Coke was, amid the terrible mess that was his side of the room. 

"I'm out," he said, looking at them both. James had no idea how to feel about this whole situation.

"Where to?" Oliver asked, with sudden interest.

"History," Victor answered. "You have about two hours to finish your... indecency?" And he left.

"What a cock-block," James said, frustrated. Oliver chuckled and sat next to him.

"I think he took it very well, actually," Oliver said. "I mean, he didn't even twitch. Not a little."

"Yeah, I don't think he's physically capable of that," James said and laid his hand on the back of Oliver's neck. "Can I at least get a kiss?" he asked.

Oliver chuckled. "What? You think you've done enough convincing?"