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Sometimes, Oliver would get caught staring.
He would be caught up in how the shitty multicolor lights of a party would reflect on Felix and forget to look away. He'd almost always start by looking at the sharpness of his jawline, as it was always the most prominent thing whilst he leaned in to whisper dirty things in whichever flavor of the night’s ear. Rarely was Oliver positioned well enough to see the full movement of his kiss-bitten lips, but he was almost always able to see the movement of Felix's cheekbones and able to imagine that whatever he was whispering would be said into Oliver’s ear instead.
Usually, that would be the moment that Oliver would turn his head and find a ginch of his own for the night, but sometimes, Oliver kept watching.
He’d watch as Felix would inch his fingers into her bottoms and start touching her, right in front of everyone. The spread of her legs to allow for better access, the cant of her hips when his long and thick fingers finally inched their way into her and she couldn’t help but react. He would study the way she would cling onto Felix’s broad frame and claw his neck and back in pleasure while her panicked, low-lidded eyes would dart around before closing and hoping that her moans were swept up in the loudness of the music and chatter.
Oliver would watch, all the while wishing she was him.
He would feel his arousal like a tangible thing, the feeling of the heaviness in his pants and the need for Felix to be the one to take care of it, even while he would be bringing whatever tart to completion for the first time of the night, in front of her friends and in from of him . Oliver wouldn’t pull his eyes away, not once, even while tossing the rest of his bevvy back, allowing for it to temper some of the rage within.
Then Felix would pull his hand out while leaving his other hand on her waist, helping her keep balance and pretending to help her catch her breath and get her bearings like the perfect gentleman, but then—
Felix would pull back and smirk and lick his finger clean , like her flavor was the finest delicacy and it didn’t matter who knew, all before giving her a positively filthy kiss that would drag whoever watching to the brink of release themselves, Oliver included.
And right after such an eye-catching display of pure wonton carnality always ended with more than half of the partygoers averting their eyes and adjusting and acting as though they weren't watching, Felix would start dragging the unsteady girl to the exit that Oliver would always be standing closest to.
He’d lift his eyes from hers and start pushing past people, even though everyone naturally moved out of his way, and his eyes would inevitably catch on Oliver’s.
It was always obvious that Oliver was watching, too. He’d look Felix up and down with intent, no smile or frown, but pure lust radiating from his figure, with his blue eyes eventually meeting brown ones.
And every time, Oliver would always be the one to look away first—not wanting to see Felix’s expression of confusion or maybe even disgust—and would disappear deeper into the party to find someone to use.
He would settle on someone shorter than him and slightly intoxicated so if [when] he said something crazy or incriminating in the heat of the moment, he could play it off on her being a bit too squiffy and ask if she was okay with fake concern in his voice. He’d sweet talk her in front of whoever she was with but let the words out of his mouth devolve into filthier and filthier talk, before snagging her mouth with a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything, but just enough to leave her panting for more.
Then Oliver would pull her a bit closer, grinding against her so she could feel just what he was offering and understand just what would come next, no surprises. He’d whisper in her ear, asking if she could handle it like a good girl , and when she inevitably said yes or nodded with that shiny and hungry look in her eyes, he would tell her to lead the way.
He’d take her against the door of the lav or in a bed or in a hallway that wasn’t as populated, as Oliver wasn’t picky and was down for whatever location she chose as long as he could get off. He would drag it out, flicking her clit until she was sobbing while pistoning in and out of her and telling her that she could take it. He would tell her about all the things he could do to her in the morning and have her gagging for it, about how he’d make her come over and over all while gripping her hips just tight enough to make her feel secure but allowing him to leave handprints behind.
After she would come the first time, he’d play with her tits instead and mark up her neck while moving gently yet still powerfully, just until she was ready to really go for it again, then he’d focus on his pleasure. He’d focus on her moans, hiking up one of her legs to change the angle and pound into her, forcing her to be just a bit louder. He would keep going until he had his own release, quietly moaning Felix’s name, and would crawl down onto his knees to bring her to her final orgasm of the night.
He’d eat her like it was his last meal, vigorously and sloppily, sometimes allowing her to feel a quick drag of his teeth against her clit while allowing her essence to drench his face and mix with his saliva. His moans would fill the space, never overpowering her own whines and keens, until she finally came loudly with his mouth practically glued to her cunt.
He would lean back and catch her eyes before licking his lips and rising to sloppily kiss her and bid her goodnight.
Oliver would make his way back to his college and strip before dropping into bed and reaching under his pillow for some lube and a shirt of Felix’s where the scent was slowly fading, fingering himself until he was whimpering and wishing the boy was there with him instead of doing exactly what Oliver had just done, cursing the universe for not making him into Felix Catton’s image.