An agreement was reached, and with it came the rise of Nikoleta. Ozzy would not be standing, interestingly enough. No, he sat in place while unfastening his belt and trousers. One heel ground against another to slip a shoe off, and the other followed soon after. All the while, his gaze was fixed. Nikki's shirt flew off her torso with haste, while Ozzy saw it as a glorious, slow-motion flourish feeding into his arousal. The same could be said of those sweatpants that he saw collapsing around her ankles. None of these maneuvers needed to be showy or anything of the sort, for Oliver to see them that way. He was never halted from his own progress... until Nikki was partially bent over and removing her undergarments in an obvious effort to tease. She did want him focused on getting rid of his clothes, right? Well, he was still going to get that done, even at a slower pace.

"Bloody hell, if I had a quid for every time you made me stop what I was doing─" he mused. It took nothing for him afterwards to slip out of his pants and boxers simultaneously. They'd be left on the floor not far from Nikki's own trousers, leaving Ozzy with nothing but a pair of black socks and a palpitating erection that seemed to be aiming straight up at his own face. Of course, he also still had that ever-present grin. He sat upon the couch with all the brass of a man who owned the building. Actually, he may as well have been the owner! Nikoleta Corbyn fancied him, and that placed him on a higher podium than any man on Earth could hope to reach!