He felt his mouth dry. Oliver was straddling him, touching his chest and he never had enough will to say no to a pretty face. He groped his thighs.

Oliver was smiling, expectantly.

“You’ll have to undress me, first,” James teased, his hands finding their way to Oliver’s waist. There was a desperate need to touch him more and to feel naked skin against his.

“Lazy,” he said, but peeled off his shirt and grabbed his belt. He undid it painfully slow, deliberately slow.

James couldn’t hold back a smile as Oliver finally pulled down his pants. He was free! And it felt great. He rolled on top of his boyfriend and buried his head into his neck. He kissed him and sucked on his skin. Oliver laughed and wrapped his arms around his back.

James' hands liked to travel over a body, he enjoyed touching someone. Oliver’s fingers ran over his head and he knew why. Sadly, he didn’t have long enough hair for someone to tug on. James chuckled and pushed his hands into Oliver’s curls.

“I love you," He muttered, lips against lips.

“Prove it.” He felt Oliver’s smile. He was more than eager to please him. He took off Oliver’s shirt and kissed his way down his chest and stomach.

James wanted to enjoy every single moment, every single peck, kiss, and touch. He wanted to be aware of each time Oliver gasped for air.

“Let me on top.” Oliver smiled wickedly. “Please?”

James agreed, he was certain there wasn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t be willing to give Oliver.

Oliver was – energetic – to say the least. Oliver was inquisitive and Oliver was far more dominant than he would’ve anticipated. James loved him more for this.

“So...” Oliver rolled over and sighed from the bottom of his heart.

“So?” James chuckled. His head was still cloudy.

“I don’t know, I love you.”

“I love you too, heathen.”

They took a shower, together, enjoying the passing hours they had without Victor. For the first time, James was actually glad Arlington wasn’t around. He knew Victor enjoyed reading, he had a ton of books lying around their room as proof, but he never expected him to be the type that spends that much time in the library.

He was too sleepy to think about that now. And Oliver was right there, the focus of his love and attention, the guy that ate all his snacks and snatched his heart.

They went to bed soon. He was exhausted and sleep came the moment he closed his eyes. 

James woke up. At first, he wasn't certain why. It took him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. It was late, probably past midnight and the weather turned sour. It wasn't rain, it was an aggressive prelude for a flood. 

James grunted, he didn't mind the rain, but he hated the way the branches outside smacked against his window. He was never one to sleep through loud noises, unlike Victor. 

He looked over at Arlington's bed and found it empty. James got up and glanced around for a few seconds. He checked his phone, just his regular missed calls from his parents and the flashing 1:00 AM that burned his retinas. 

He put on his shoes and walked out of the room. This was the first time he went to the library ever since he stepped on those pretentious grounds. Even the doors looked snob-ish, tall, and made out of solid wood with intricate baroque design on the edges. It was frankly just a gross display of wealth. 

James opened the doors and stepped in. The shelves surprised him the most, big, thick, dark, and screaming under the weight of thousands of volumes. Never-ending rows upon rows of books. 

He turned towards the reading areas, with the round tables and plush, velvet chairs. Being there made him feel like he was in a prestigious private institution more than anything the school had to offer. 

He dragged his eyes around the room until he spotted Victor with the light above his table still on. James sighed. A ton had been lifted off his chest. 

"Victor?" 

No answer. James approached the table slowly, not wanting to startle him. The last thing he needed was to get into an argument with Victor over God knows what. 

The library smelled like old books and ink. 

It smelled like a cabin in the woods.

The rain screamed against the windows. 

"Victor?" He stopped next to him. Victor's cheek was pressed against the hardwood. He was still holding a pen pressed onto a half-finished sketch. There were books opened all over the table along with his phone. Victor had a headphone in his ear and was deep into his sleep. 

James sat down and looked at him. 

The warm light above his head made him softer. Or maybe just the way he was when he wasn't being a defensive asshole. 

He looked at his face, at his hair, at his hand that still held the pen. There was a tight knot in his throat and an even tighter one in his stomach. It was as if someone was squeezing him from the inside. 

Victor Arlington was undeniably handsome. 

James sat there feeling like an idiot. He thought about Oliver and a familiar warmth filled his body. He loved Oliver. But if he was so head over heels for him, why was Victor a parasite in his mind? 

This seemed too much like cheating. 

This seemed wrong for him to do. 

There was no way he could like two people like that without being disloyal. It ate him from the core. 

He reached over and touched the back of Victor's hand with the tips of his fingers. It was cold.

"Victor?" 

Victor was a heavy sleeper, thunder nor war could wake him. A part of James didn't want to do it either. 

"You're a pest," he said. "You insufferable brat." 

He pocketed Victor's phone and picked him up in his arms. He was a tall guy, but he was lean and he could carry him easily. It seemed sinful to leave him alone in the library, head pressed against a cold table. 

James walked back into their room and placed Victor on his bed. He hadn't stirred once. The urge to touch Victor crept over him, but this time it was gentler. 

Touch his cheek, touch his hair, touch the side of his neck. Touch his lips.

James didn't cave in. He was in a relationship and Victor was out cold. It was all quite amusing, standing over a guy's bed just to be able to look at him, like a creep. He took a step back, then another one, and got under his own covers, next to his own boyfriend. 

"How did I get here?" Victor's voice was thick, deep, still half asleep. Victor's voice was hot. 

"I don't know." James lied. 

Victor coughed and rolled on his side. James could only see his outline in the dark but he could guess how his face looked. His eyes, narrowing at him, gunmetal gray and cold, his sharp mouth pressed into a thin line, annoyed and suspicious. 

Victor coughed again and James wanted to rush and give him his inhaler. He didn't move. He heard Victor take in a long breath. 

"I didn't walk here by myself and you're up. What time is it?" 

"I don't know, go to sleep." He remembered he still had Victor's phone. 

"James, how did I get here?" Hearing his name spoken like that made him hard. It was a sudden reaction, a rush of blood. 

"Go to sleep," he said again. Victor sighed and turned on his other side. James opened his fists, feeling the tension in his fingers turn into a soft numbness. 

"You were in the library," James muttered. Victor didn't move. "And I was worried, so I went to look for you." 

"You were worried?" James had no idea what emotion resonated in that question. Curiosity? Confusion? Amazement?  

His throat closed around his words. "Yes. I... carried you here, you seemed... deep into sleep. I didn't want to disturb you." 

A long pause. James wanted to slap himself over the face. 

"Ok," Victor said, after a painfully stretched out moment. 

"Ok," he repeated, his voice clearer now, more awake. "Ok." 

James was glaring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the branches hitting the window. 

"Thank you."

Everything was drowned out. His heart ached. There was no question that he deeply cared about Victor.