Now that he had his nose practically buried in Oliver's hair, Harry thought he smelled familiar. Oliver's scent was comforting and warm, touched with a bit of wildness if Harry breathed in deep enough. It stirred him, made him want to burrow into Oliver's chest and let the other man's strong arms hold him down while Oliver continued doing wicked things with his tongue-
And then Oliver spoke and part of Harry was more than all right with this, wanted it to continue to its logical, probably mind-blowing, conclusion. Oliver had figured out how sensitive Harry's ears were, and Harry leaned into the gentle gnawing, but his ears were suddenly full of laughter, the voice high-pitched and full of derision the way a certain blonde's could be. Then there was Faelan to consider, what would he say if he woke up and found Harry and Oliver like this?
Oliver's rough keeper hand covered the small of Harry's back, making him arch into him even as it caused Harry to realise how completely wanton he was being. Oliver was a friend, Faelan's brother, what was he thinking?