Play It Again, Charlie (34 page)

“I'm going to,” Will said, or repeated, all panting disbelief until Charlie's cock nudged at his ass and Charlie pushed inside.

No matter what Will said, Charlie still went slow, aching but stopping when Will seemed to cease breathing altogether. He set his jaw, shut then opened his eyes, waiting while he could barely breathe either. It felt... more than good... more than amazing. It was... .

“So fucking good,” Will moaned lowly, and then he reached out, his hands sliding around the sink, the counter. Charlie grabbed his hip without thinking, yanked him back though he was already in to his balls, and Will moaned again, his hands curling. “Do not stop,” he ordered, as though Charlie
wanted
to stop after that. He moved, back and then in, up, and clutched at Will's hipbone at how sweet it was, how Will met him.

His palms were still slick with lube, slippery. They slid over so much skin, hot but nowhere near as hot as the tight heat around his cock, and Charlie opened his mouth.

“Will,” he breathed out without stopping, without slowing. Will's hands hit the counter again, then held it tight as Charlie dragged himself back, thrust in.

“Yeah,” Will agreed, shifting to meet him again, as much as he could, pinned as he was. He still hadn't complained, but his voice was getting husky, and he was stretching himself, halfheartedly trying to get free and then going still whenever Charlie eased away. “Yes,” he hissed and then tossed his head. “More.” He wriggled again, pushing back as Charlie pushed in, and then arching up. Charlie swore and urged him forward.

Charlie's vision went white, and Will made a strangled noise, pleased and loud when for a moment his feet were barely on the floor. “That's it.” He jerked, pushed again immediately, greedy and smug, and Charlie scowled as he shoved back, thrust until his world was white again, and his hands were sliding from Will's hips to his thighs and back again, keeping him up, keeping him still, when he slipped and slid hard inside that perfect ass.

Will only groaned, hands flying out again before he renewed his hold on the edge of the sink. He gripped it only to let go, had to clutch at the counter again as his feet left the floor. It was probably just his toes on the ground, not that Charlie wasted time looking.

“Fuck.” Will didn't stop his dirty mouth, possibly didn't try, but Charlie didn't smile. He breathed out, and Will shivered, trying to rock back against him and lay himself out for the taking at the same time. He was shameless and sexy, and his voice was as rough as how fast Charlie was thrusting inside of him. It seemed desperate, but with each push and slide, Will was getting louder, hungrier. His skin was salty, delicious, and he moved for Charlie's mouth, trying to follow that too.

“That's it, Charlie, please.” His need rose and fell as he did, and Charlie closed his eyes at the sound of it, eager to hear it again each time. It was too rough, or should have been, even with the lube making everything glide, even with Will hot and squirming as though he couldn't get enough. Under that he could hear their breathing, could
feel
Will's, and his rapid heartbeat against his chest, around his cock. Will was moving almost frantically now, as though there was more, or he couldn't take it any longer, but when Charlie finally moved one hand over his stomach, down to his dick, Will arched his back and gasped.

“Fuck, Charlie, that's it. Get it, Daddy, oh
fuck
, yes.” The words streaked, red hot and quick, straight to Charlie's cock, though he opened his eyes. His palm was wrapped tight around Will's cock, drying lube wet again with a steady supply of pre-come, and Will's ass was
pounding
around him. “You quiet, sexy freak.” Will couldn't be still, his movements getting jerky until Charlie tightened his grip on his hip, his cock, thrust until he was up against the counter and nearly bent over it, panting.

The way he said it, like it was true. Charlie petted over his skin, stroked his cock, his fingertips digging for a few moments like he wanted everything, but Will only groaned and said it again, giving it to him again, and then more. “Fuck, you're so good.” He felt beautiful, amazing, sliding against him, thrusting with him.
Charlie
had him like this, his head down, obscene things leaving his mouth. For a second Charlie almost couldn't stand, and then Will whined, and he had to move to answer him, hold him up. Charlie was trembling, but it wasn't from his hip. Will just continued to lean into him, to need him, saying those things. “Say it, Charlie, say what you're doing to me.”

As though he didn't know. Charlie didn't clear his throat, didn't stop despite the burning in his face. He answered because Will wanted him to, and Will demanded and begged with the same sweet urgency in his voice.

“I'm fucking you,” he bit out, and it brought another surge of heat, need, at hearing it like that. He wanted more. “Will,” he murmured, everything in him pushing closer, and Will met him.

“Yes. No. So much more, please.” There was so much wrong in hearing Will on fire for him, in how his body reacted, blood pumping faster, his vision sparking. God. He liked it, even the rest, couldn't resist when Will made more demands, his movements getting unsteady. “Again, Charlie, more.” He groaned when Charlie complied and whispered, “I'm fucking you,” sliding forward with his head bent. Will's shorter hair made him seem more exposed, vulnerable.

“Yes.” Charlie's body felt as strong as his answer.

Charlie pictured his face almost to the counter, his eyes closed, and bit his lip when he wanted to hear it again, to
make
Will say it again.

Charlie's hand went from Will's hip to his back, sliding, soothing, but holding him still as he fucked him, fast and rough, until Will was coming and the muscles of his ass were clenching around Charlie's cock and Charlie was panting and coming hard too.

Will was talking, low murmurs as his body stopped moving, Charlie's name, other words as well, and the idea of some of them, that he could be saying that
Daddy
again, made Charlie clutch at the body beneath him, hold him tighter until he was still too.

There were so many sparkles that it took Charlie a few moments to realize his eyes were open, but by then the glittery cloud at the edge of his vision was fading.

The light around them said it was afternoon. In his kitchen. He'd almost forgotten where he was, or at least what room he was in. He was fully aware of his position, that he had one arm wrapped around Will, that the other was down so he could continue to stroke over Will's stomach. He was still inside of Will; there was no forgetting that part. Not at all.

He should move before it got uncomfortable. His left side was giving an occasional twinge, and his right side felt shaky, as though he'd overcompensated and now he was going to be sore on both sides. But that had to be nothing to what Will was feeling. He'd been pressed— pushed— against the counter with every one of Charlie's thrusts, and Charlie had... it wasn't possible to blush at the moment, he was already hot all over, but he wanted to. Because he'd thrust hard, harder with every insane thing Will had said, and then with what he
hadn't
said, not stop or slow down, just yes and more and... the rest.

His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed. Will's words were indistinct, sort of breathless, but he didn't move until Charlie did. He raised his head when Charlie put both of his hands on his hips and sucked in air loudly when Charlie pulled back and out.

“Charlie.” He didn't move until Charlie was bending to dispose of the condom in the trash, turning around in time to catch Charlie's wince. “Are you okay?” The rasp in his voice drew Charlie's eyes up to his face, away from his stomach, the red lines from the counter's edge that might be bruises by tomorrow. He could see the traces his mouth had left on Will's neck as well.

Evidence of this would be all over Will for days. Charlie straightened up with another flinch at how his hip was starting to get irritated, but looked away from Will's concern. He leaned over to the drawer full of towels and then reached around Will to turn on the hot water. Will shook his head, then shivered and closed his eyes when Charlie swept the damp, warm towel over his chest and stomach, then down to his cock.

Charlie shut his mouth and wiped over the red marks that weren't going anywhere, gentled his touch when he got to Will's ass and Will made a slight hissing noise.

There was cold uncertainty twisting Charlie's stomach. He'd hurt Will, even if Will hadn't complained.

Christ. If anything, Will had wanted more, as though Charlie was the sort of man who bruised other people on purpose on a regular basis.
The kind of man someone would call Daddy
, a part of Charlie whispered.

Charlie tossed the towel into the sink before looking back up, slowly moving his gaze over Will's body.

“You... you really... .”
Have daddy issues
, he wanted to say, but didn't. That wasn't what it had been, anyway, and he knew it, not exactly. Not the way Will had used it. He'd already called him other things before, like papi. And if not that, then there was always the memory of Will's friend Chris, intimating that Will called anybody who fucked him hard enough that name, and Charlie was reading too much into it.

Will's eyes were narrowed, and pink was splashed across his cheekbones.

“What?” he demanded, heat in his voice, and then he frowned when Charlie shook his head.

“Nothing. I... .” Charlie made himself move, facing the sink to wash the mess off his hands. “I didn't realize what time it was. I need to feed Sam.”

“I can do it,” Will volunteered. Charlie turned with his hands dripping wet, but Will was already in his small dining room, heading toward where Charlie kept the dry food.

“You really don't have to— ” he started, grabbing another towel and then freezing at the stare Will gave him over one shoulder.

“It's just cat food. I think even
I
can manage that, Charlie.” His voice was tight with anger, or embarrassment, or both. Charlie didn't want to think that he'd upset Will, but Will wasn't looking at him now, focused on shaking some dry food into Sam's bowl. “If your leg— your hip— if your
hip
hurts, why don't you sit down and rest?” He said “hip” like the word itself was bothering him.

Charlie held still for that, for everything, really, then slowly dried his hands. He was, he realized, still partially dressed, and removed his tie, at least, pulling it off his neck without untying the knot that Will had tightened. He dropped it over his coat, next to the box that Will had bought just for this.

“I didn't think that. My hip is— ”

“Fine, right?” Will muttered something as he put the cat food away. He took a deep breath before turning around. “I know I only do hair, that I'm not a detective or whatever, but I'm not a kid either, Charlie. Really.”

“Will... .” Charlie took a few steps toward him. He had messed things up again, and it hadn't taken him long either. Will didn't move when he spoke, so Charlie hurried, stopping by the table. When he rested his weight on his foot, something must have flashed across his face. Will's eyes went wide, then his mouth thinned out.

“You know, just because I said... .” He stopped and threw up his hands. “I can take care of myself, unlike
you,
apparently. Just"— he waved at the chairs, or the living room—"
sit down
, Charlie.” He exhaled, looking surprised before he scowled. “Never mind.” In a minute he was going to be talking to himself again, Charlie guessed, and was proven right when Will slid past him and started to pick up his clothes off the floor. “Who does he think I am?” he asked himself, then he looked over.

Charlie's heart was beating so fast, his skin so cold, that he wasn't even aware that he'd pulled out a chair and sat down until his ass hit the seat a little too hard. He grunted. Will shut up. He was holding his shirt, and the thought that he was going to put it on and then leave made Charlie's face burn.

Charlie blinked at the floor, then his table, before shifting the chair to face outward, where he could at least watch Will. Sam's fur tickled his legs as he walked beneath the chair to go get his food, and Will's gaze left Charlie to watch him.

“Do you feel better?” Will asked quietly.

Lying down for a while would be best, but it was far from painful, honestly. Charlie could have fed Sam. When he didn't answer, Will focused back on him.

“You were always lugging home wild things. Once it was a hawk with a broken wing... and another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg. Remember?” he remarked, not seeming surprised when Charlie didn't know how to take
that
. Then he shrugged, too tense for the gesture to appear relaxed, and shook out his shirt. “It's a mistake, isn't it?”

Will was going to leave. Charlie wet his lips. He shook his head automatically at Will's silence, knowing that it didn't just mean anger, it meant he'd hurt Will, too, and this wasn't the kind of pain that Will could dismiss so easily.

“Charlie.” There was a line between Will's eyes.

“Will, I... .” At least it made Will look at him, though he didn't take back his earlier statement, or quote, whatever the hell it had been. Charlie had known it was a mistake when Will had first appeared on his doorstep, but hadn't stopped himself. “You offered before... I was wondering if you would cut my hair. Sometime,” he added, when Will didn't answer. Then swallowed. “Or not. I don't want to... .”

“Now?” Will asked. Charlie blinked. He hadn't expected that and didn't answer. Will was regarding him with a thoughtful, if pissed, expression, his arms crossed around his shirt, his head to one side.

“I can pa— ” He really wasn't sure if he was supposed to offer to pay, and his hesitation made Will tap his bare foot.

“Stay right there.” Will waved a hand, then knelt down next to his case. It was still open, Charlie's pants and shoes in front of it. Will dropped his clothes on top of the pile. There were a few drawers as well as a felt-looking black wrap that Will unrolled to reveal scissors and a comb. Next to those was a small spray bottle. He grabbed them all. “I only have a few that are clean right now. Busy day.”