USUK ONESHOTS!

Blood

Oliver hummed giddily, spinning and bouncing in the kitchen as he baked away, a soft tune set as background noise to completely drown out the pleas for freedom beneath his feet.

Oliver gasped as the front door slammed open and shut. "Matthieu! How many times have I asked you not to slam the door!?"

Oliver puffed his cheeks and placed his hands on his hips as he exited the kitchen. He then blinked and blushed, arms falling to his side. "O-oh! Allen!"

Allen grunted, shrugging off his bloody bomber jacket before tossing it into a nearby hamper full of more bloody clothing. "I need that washed soon," he grumbled, setting his sun glasses down on the coffee table.

Oliver shook his head and patted his cheeks. Stop it! You're married to François and Allen is practically your child! Oliver nodded. "I'll make sure to clean it first thing in the morning, but you should get in the shower and clean off, poppet. You're covered in blood more than usual."

Allen hummed and nodded. "There was more than expected, and I had to get out real quick. Police nearly caught me so I had to get close and personal with the last one."

The Brit nodded, then peeked back into the kitchen. "Well, all my batches for today are done, so let's get you cleaned up before Matthieu and François return." Oliver took off his messy apron and hung it before shooing Allen into the hallway bathroom. "Off you go into the shower, poppet. I'll clean up the mess you've made in the entry."

"Yeah, yeah." Allen grumbled, stepping into the bathroom.

Oliver skipped into the front area, grabbing his own cleaning set before getting to work. In just a few moments, the floor was as good as new. He set the basket of cleaning supplies on the coffee table and into the hallway, prepared to ask Allen a question, then paused.

The small Brit's pinkish-blue eyes widened and he gasped, heart skipping into a hard pounding and stomach twisting harshly, yet pleasantly. Oliver's mouth went dry as his eyes stayed glued to the American.

All Allen had left on was his dog tags and black boxers. His back was slick with sweat and his arms were thick with muscle. Oliver tried to swallow as his body heated up and his pants became constricting.

"Hmm?" Allen glanced over his shoulder, then smirked at the older man. "What is it, Ollie? Like what you see?"

Allen turned so Oliver could fully see Allen's bare chest and chiseled abdomen. A soft whine tumbled from Oliver's parted lips and his knees started to shake. Allen stepped closer until Oliver could feel his hot breath fanning over his forehead.

Oliver's arms were held up against himself as he trembled, eyes locked on Allen's smirking lips. Oliver jolted as the door shut and locked behind him. "Allen!"

The younger man chuckled and firmly gripped Oliver's hips. Oliver gasped, eyes flicking up to meet Allen's dark, red eyes. "François hasn't given you any in a while, has he?" Oliver went to protest, but the words caught in his throat. It was true. Too true. It's been over a year, actually, because François had taken a liking to young, sultry girls and has been spending his nights with them when he wanted some. Allen smirked. "Just say that magic word you're always pestering Matt and I about, and I'm all yours."

Oliver swallowed thickly, eyes unable to leave Allen's. "... Please?" He whimpered softly, his body yearning for that touch, for that feel.

Blood still dotted Allen's smirking face and was smeared over his torso from his shirt, his hands still bloody, too.

"Why the hell not?" Allen dove forward, crushing their mouths together. Oliver gasped and moaned, their bodies pressing together as their mouths battled. Allen's tongue easily took control over Oliver and snake through his mouth. Allen hated sweets, but he was sure he could get used to this taste Oliver had. He grabbed the hem of Oliver's dress shirt and yanked both the shirt and the sweater vest at the same time. Oliver yelped, then shuddered as the cool air wafted over his skin. "Good thing you took off that damn bow tie."