Play It Again, Charlie (23 page)

“Just this, Charlie?” he taunted, shivering when Charlie set his jaw and rocked against him. His hands went back to Charlie's shoulders and stayed there when Charlie ground down against him. He didn't seem to remember or care if Charlie could hold him up, and Charlie narrowed his eyes and thrust into him again because he wanted that too.

Will made feverish, sweet noises whenever Charlie's fingers found a new patch of skin, still trying to speak. “Anything. Seriously, Charlie, anything.” He couldn't catch his breath. Charlie pressed more with every hiccupping sound. “I'm clean, I swear. I'm...
holy
... willing. So willing. Please, Charlie. You can do anything you want. Or we can stay like this. Just don't stop.”

The words made Charlie shut his eyes. He bent his head, pushing Will with his mouth, with his body, rough like he didn't do, but Will was moaning and asking for more. He shouldn't... he shouldn't offer that, even if he was clean, even when it drove Charlie crazy.
Especially
when it drove Charlie crazy.

“You shouldn't say things like that.” Charlie didn't know his own voice, but the rumble against his chest was Will's pleased response. Will's hands were all over him, running across his shoulders and then clinging to his hair. Charlie knew he sounded naive, but Will shouldn't risk himself like that. Some men would take advantage of that offer, hurt him, do things he didn't want. “You could get hurt. It isn't safe.”

Will sucked in a loud breath next to his ear. He was all heat and muscle, choked whispers and a death grip at Charlie's neck. There were fingernails in his skin that should have hurt, but it was like Will was barely holding on and Charlie had to make him listen.

“It's not safe.” Will was coming apart under him, shuddering with every firm, clear word. He could barely stand, and Charlie hauled Will to him, away from the door. They were so close, Will wrapped around him, practically on fire.

“Charlie,” he said again, “please,” as though Charlie didn't
want
to see him come. Charlie lifted his head, and Will buried his face against his throat. “Not safe... but f... fun, Charlie. You won't hurt me, will you? Fuck.” Will's voice went up and down, and he grabbed hard at Charlie's shoulders. “Say it again,” he demanded, shaking hard.

“Will— ” Charlie scowled above him, then had to kiss him. Will was begging, and Charlie wanted to make him happy, make him listen. “It's not safe.”

“And you w... want me to be safe.” Will was gasping, desperate. He needed to come. Charlie wanted to make him. Once and then again and again. The way Will kissed, the way he said his name, Charlie wanted more, just like he'd known he would.

“What I want— ” Charlie started, and then he surged forward, pinned Will to the door so he couldn't leave, held every trembling inch, and chose a feverish half truth. “I want you to come, Will, now.” And stared, shocked, when Will instantly gasped and sagged against him, coming with sudden, hot bursts that made Charlie burn.

He fell at the weight, both of them hitting the door, but Will didn't seem to care. He was panting, and Charlie took his last chance, slanting his mouth over Will's as he rubbed his cock against Will's flat stomach, the path hot and sticky now, wet, as close to perfect as Charlie could get.

Will's fingers curled into his skin, slid through his hair to disrupt it as Charlie moved, and he moaned before Charlie did, breathing into him as Charlie came. Between them there was pounding, Charlie's heartbeat, or Will's, desperately trying to slow. There was trembling under his palms, slick skin, and Charlie opened his hands to stroke careful circles. He felt barely able to stand, but it felt good, that simple touch, and Will's small sound of contentment, the hum and twitch of lingering pleasure, made him open his eyes.

Will was watching him, glittering. “Whoa,” he said on an exhale, then he let his head fall back to Charlie's shoulder. His hands, Charlie realized, were curling the hair at the base of Charlie's skull, twirling in small, repetitive motions. Charlie was too exhausted to comment. There was a pull in his lower back that was making itself known, and it must have been too long because he couldn't catch his breath and he needed the door to stay up. Any moment now, Will was going to notice his shaking.

“Well. That was sort of high school.” Will's words were muffled by Charlie's shirt but audible enough that Charlie flinched.

He stopped his hands. Will only turned his head so his lips moved against Charlie's throat. His breath teased places that were damp from Will's mouth earlier, not that Charlie remembered Will kissing his throat. “All that rush, and you aren't even naked.” Will made regretful noises but didn't seem inclined to move.

Charlie exhaled. After a moment he let his hands resume petting over Will's skin, softly, aware that he'd grabbed Will hard and could have actually hurt him, despite what Will seemed to think. Replaying what he'd just done might just kill him later.

“Was that the plan?” he asked, trying to see and ending up with Will's hair in his mouth. His voice still wasn't quite his own, and the question came out gruff. He turned his head again, and Will straightened.

Charlie ducked away from Will's gaze and pulled back, hiding a wince. A noise from Will drew his eyes back, though Charlie kept his attention on Will's chest, his rumpled, wet T-shirt, his opened jeans and stained, shoved boxers, his cock.

Charlie got a good look, a long look, and then scowled when Will snickered. He forced his gaze back up over Will's chest, to his amused eyes and his curving, red mouth. He could see what he'd done to that, licked his own lips at the memory of all those kisses, and caught Will's equally slow study of Charlie's body. Charlie knew he was a mess, seconds away from trembling.

“Don't move.” Charlie couldn't seem to speak above a whisper, didn't even notice that he'd given another order until he was at the sink, letting the hot water run for a moment as he grabbed a towel. He closed his pants at least, tugged at his shirt. His back was stiffening up, probably from the position if not the activity, and Charlie shut the water off sharply once the towel was wet. Will hadn't moved, not at all, not even to pull up his jeans, and Charlie swallowed, but came back to him, letting his leg drag.

Will's eyes flicked to that, to the bare part of Charlie's skin around his waist. Charlie didn't think the scar was visible, but it didn't matter. The moment he touched the warm towel to Will's stomach, Will let his eyes close. They stayed that way as Charlie cleaned him, only opening once Charlie cleared his throat and started to dab at himself.

“Let me,” Will offered, and he looked disappointed when Charlie held up the towel to indicate he was already done. Most of the come had been all over Will, and there was something else to think about later. But when he looked up, that image still strong in his mind and probably on his face, Will gave him a half smile best described as naughty. Charlie's mouth twitched. “Well, look at you,” Will said, in the same tone as “you big, strong man you” and did his eyelash-batting thing. Someone really ought to tell him it didn't work when he did it, except for how it did.

Charlie tossed the towel toward the counter, where there was possibly a sushi explosion trapped inside a plastic bag, and focused on Will.

“You aren't going to get dressed?” He waited for a few heartbeats, and then put his hands back at Will's waist when the man's come-hither expression didn't change.

“Is there a reason to?” Will gave him a head bob and then leaned forward, saving Charlie from having to hide his surprise. Will's hands went right back to his neck and his hair, but this time Charlie could feel him pulling it between his fingers, measuring it. He wasn't going to ask, not about any of it. Not and spoil the quiet around them. He couldn't hear anything other than their breathing, not Sam hopping around, not anyone in the courtyard outside.

He sighed after moments of that, as sweat dried and his muscles mostly stopped threatening to give out in front of Will so he could safely step back. He didn't want to seem too clingy. Desperate. That word had a way of lingering, even when it wasn't said aloud.

“We should probably move.” He wondered if he should apologize for giving those orders.

“Can I do your hair?” Will tossed back, fingers gently exploring his roots, and Charlie frowned. He stepped back, and Will stood up again. He looked serious, his eyes narrowed as he considered Charlie's hair.

“My hair?” Charlie blinked, and Will rolled his hand in a slow, vaguely worn-out sweep.

“You have good hair. You condition well.” He seemed momentarily surprised. “But the way you brush it. It's so... Rock Hudson. Not the slutty man-candy thing.” His tongue came out for that one, and Charlie blinked again. “But for the whole old-fashioned look. But it's too long. When it's down like that, I can't always see your face.” Will stopped, then moved around Charlie, leaving his jeans slung far too low around his hips, not that he cared. He was focused on hair now and reached up to twist some around his fingers. “Silky, but good to hold onto,” he said approvingly, and Charlie looked at him through the strands Will had let fall in his face.

“Maybe later?” Will asked him hopefully, his eyes impossibly round and sad when Charlie hesitated.

“Will you get dressed?” he asked without answering, not sure he could take Will cutting his hair while naked. Will's grin was cheeky, as though he had the same idea, and he opened his mouth only to fall silent and frown at the sound of his pop-star ringtone. Charlie turned away to face the counter and put his hands on the plastic bag as Will took the call and started talking. He didn't get much out.

“But— ” he started in dismay. “I know, I said I would.” Charlie peered inside the bag and saw that the plastic container had stayed closed through some miracle, but the sushi inside it was stuck to the top and bottom and sort of smushed. “He didn't even get a cake?” Will came up next to him, nodding, presumably to the person on the other end of the call. He pulled the bag over to look at the leftovers, too, and then wrinkled his nose for Charlie's benefit. “Okay, okay,” he reassured someone, a line forming between his eyes while Charlie watched him. “O
kay
,” he said again, and he ended the call.

“That thing.” Will rolled his shoulders. “You probably don't remember, if I mentioned it, but I have a party I have to go to.” He jerked his head toward the door, in an “out” sort of way, without taking an actual step in that direction.

“I remember,” Charlie told him and waved a hand at him to let him know it was fine, and Will waved a hand right back in a helpless, liquid gesture. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, then released it.

“It's a birthday party,” he went on, with only a little pause, “at a bar, but still, it's a big one too.” He leaned forward to whisper. “The Three-Oh. And Dani's a sweetie. So I
have
to go. Not to mention that Buffalo, he's, well, that's his nickname, never mind that, forgot to pick up a cake. So now I have to go the store first and get some generic cake and... . You can buy icing, right? To write on the cake?”

Charlie nodded without speaking. Will paused again, watching him, before sighing. He hitched a thumb at the door. “So I should go.”

His eyebrows went up, asking a question, and Charlie tried to smile.

“You should pull up your pants if you're going,” he remarked calmly, and he grabbed the sushi bag. He moved around Will to throw it away. He was going to have to take the trash out tomorrow or it was going to smell. He should finish cleaning up outside too; he'd left the tools by the roses. There were dirty gloves on the counter as well, and laundry he should get done.

“You know,” Will said brightly, startling him, “you could come. It's, um, a nice night.” Will was grabbing his underwear and yanking them up without taking his eyes off Charlie. He fastened his pants in the next second, and Charlie had the fleeting memory of his belt. He didn't look for it, just cleared his throat.

“It's okay.” It really was. He didn't want Will to feel guilty for wanting to leave. He'd never expected Will to stay. “I've had a long day. I should rest.” He didn't indicate his hip, but Will looked down, then hopped forward with a guilty frown just the same.

“Oh, Charlie, I... .”

“Clubs aren't for me,” Charlie assured him, clearing his throat. Will shouldn't be apologizing either. “Remember? You go. Have fun.”

“Okay,” Will said with another wrinkle of his nose, still not moving, but now Charlie was used to Will's sudden bursts of motion. He waited while Will studied him, and then, when Will's phone chimed from his back pocket, Will jumped and stepped toward the door. Charlie swallowed. “So I'll see you later?” Will started to ask, already moving away, and Charlie's chest seized up with a last-minute, stupid panic. He put out a hand, nearly closing his eyes at how easy it was to stop Will.

He kept this kiss short, though Will's lips were parted and Charlie could taste his breath again, still sweet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, hopefully too low for Will to hear or understand, and he stepped back before Will could ask. Will was staring at him, his head slowly listing to the side, his mouth open. Charlie coughed and looked over at the sink. “Have fun,” he told Will again.

“What? No ‘be careful'?” Will's head snapped back up at the demand, making Charlie glance over. Will was grinning, and Charlie shook his head at Will's tone.

“Be careful,” Charlie told him, light until Will frowned and spun around. He twisted back once, just before he flitted out the door, giving Charlie one over-the-top, dramatic sweep of his arm.

“Here's looking at you, Charlie,” he called out, blowing a kiss, then he rolled his eyes as his phone chimed again.

When he was gone, Charlie sighed.

He frowned before going to the door to make sure it was locked, and then turned off the kitchen lights and headed for the other room. Then he licked at the corner of his mouth, at the last remaining bit of sweetness.

It took him most of the morning to call each of his sisters and assure them that he was okay, distract them with questions about their lives, and, in Ann's case, convince her that he had seriously considered her dating suggestions but it just wasn't the right time for him.