Scorched Earth

by henry_amargosa

Summary:

Nick Nelson is a hotshot rookie rugby player with a reputation for being an asshole — one his professional achievements don't yet allow for. When an incident with a barista goes viral and threatens to derail contract negotiations, his manager Tara Jones makes Nick team up with a snobby public relations expert named Charlie Spring to rehabilitate his image. It’s immediately clear Nick and Charlie loathe one another. But is that heat hiding something more?

Notes:

My undying gratitude to KitSaidOui for beta reading and for suggesting the title. Please go read his current fic, Blue Line to Foggy Bottom, and of course check out his amazing back catalog as well.

Yep, it’s the Hate Sex fic I’ve been promising for months! Though it’s gonna be a little bit before they actually get to the sex part. Gotta build up the hate first.

If these characterizations aren’t for you, I understand. Nick especially, but Charlie as well, are both significantly angrier people here than in canon. If I craft it well enough, there will be compelling reasons for those personality differences. But I also want to assure you up front: These characters are neither cruel nor bigoted.

This fic is told from Nick’s perspective; keep in mind he is not necessarily a reliable narrator.

Also I can’t be arsed to learn about rugby. If you want a beautifully written fic that is accurate about the sport, I highly recommend Rugby Sweater Weather. If you’re gonna read this fic, here’s how rugby in this universe works.

1. Players start off with a two-year rookie contract that pays poorly (like $100k, so Nick is comfortable, but that sucks compared to the high six or seven figures established players make). Once you prove yourself, you can bid for much better money with any team.

2. Rugby training starts in August, season starts late September and runs through the late spring. Why? Because I don’t know when rugby season actually is and I’m lazy enough to just adopt an academic-style calendar.

3. None of this “teams named after places” stuff, all the teams have names like Blackbirds and Bulldogs and Flamingoes.

Chapter 1

Nick Nelson grunted and groaned as he hauled another box up four fucking flights of stairs toward his new flat. The new place on Walters Street was much closer to the Blackbirds practice center and stadium, close enough he could even walk most days, and it had historic charm and nicely sized flats for the price. One major downside was that the historic charm also meant no lift, leaving Nick to hike up four flights of stairs with all his stuff, of which there was a lot more than he ever thought, and fuck was it heavy.

When he was in a better mood, he would appreciate the four-flight climb. One, because it was a great little jolt of cardio. And two, because the building was only four stories high, so nobody lived above them, meaning no noisy upstairs neighbors throwing loud-ass parties the night before a big game. 

But Jesus Christ. Going up and down to move in was a massive pain in the ass Nick simply did not need right now.

He’d hired movers for the furniture, but by carrying his clothes, kitchen supplies and other belongings himself, Nick saved a little money. Being a rookie rugby star was no joke. Everything he’d ever heard about professional athletes was that they made outrageous money. No one ever mentioned you have to work through an initial rookie period where they paid you like crap. Well, not crap, per se, it was pretty good money for your early 20s, but it was barely even six figures. Certainly nothing like the high six or seven figures some of his teammates were pulling down. 

He heaved down the corridor until he reached door 402, pushing through and stumbling down the short entry hall and rightward into his bedroom. Dropping the box on the floor with a loud thud (sucked to live on the third floor, he thought), he collapsed onto his still-unmade bed. Nick had his own small but private en suite bathroom, accessed via a walk-through closet. He was sharing the flat with Sai Verma, another rookie player on the Blackbirds, who had the other bedroom and bathroom. They had a cramped but functional kitchen, a small eating area, a nice living room with plenty of room for their giant television and gaming systems, and a balcony.

Sprawling out on his bed, Nick breathed hard for a minute from the cumulative strain. He felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead, some dampness caught in the hair around his ears. Nick sat up, grabbed his t-shirt by the hem and used it to wipe away some of the sweat from his face. Of fucking course a heat wave would hit on the day he had to move in. Cold-ass country — he was in the north of England, even — and it was absolutely sweltering today. He had just flopped back down onto the mattress when a short figure blocked his doorway.

“You all done moving in?” Sai asked from his doorway.

Nick looked up at his flatmate and best friend. Well. Basically Nick’s only friend. He got along well enough with the rest of the team, but their conversations were mostly about either the sport or tits. Those were both topics Nick liked talking about, but sharing opinions on sport and tits didn’t a friend make. 

Sai was different. He never joined in the tits talk, for one. Just sat there silently while the rest of them let their inner horndogs out. More importantly, he never seemed to be bothered by Nick’s… abrasiveness, as his one ex-girlfriend had charitably put it. Or his assholery, according to another ex. Or his standoffishness — well, no need to rehash every customer comment card. 

There was a clear pattern, and Nick had decided not to care. These two years as a rookie were critical, and he didn’t have the time or energy to look for love, as if that mattered at all. He was here to play well, dazzle the scouts and land a fat contract for a Premiership team after his second rookie season was over. Frankly, it was going swimmingly. Even in his first year, his skill was obvious, and earned him outsized amounts of game time and media attention, much to the chagrin of the more established players. 

By midway through his first year, Nick had been christened by the local press as the Blackbirds’ “rugby prince.” Sure, the praise rankled some on the team, but most of the guys thought it was funny. And his agent, Tara Jones, had managed to parlay that nickname into a small line of merchandise available online:  T-shirts, water bottles, rally towels, fidget spinners for some reason… all bearing Nick’s smirking face wearing a crown. That merch sold all right, brought him a little pocket change, and set him up for real income once he got onto a Premiership team and gained more than local notoriety.

Nick had tried dating in his first year, courting half a dozen women. Every one of them was more than satisfied in the bedroom, let it be said. But each eventually walked away from him when they realized he always put rugby first. He had to. It was his ticket to a better life, the life everyone expected him to lead someday. Women would just get in the way.

Men, too.

Men, especially.

Nick was bisexual. He’d realized it in sixth form one weekend when he was watching Titanic and found himself sporting a half-chub looking at both Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio. (He had thought about that steamy Coupé de Ville many a night as he reached below his waistband, imagining the scene from both directions.) 

Some awkward Google searches on incognito mode and a hard reckoning with himself later, and Nick was officially bi.

He wasn’t out. Not to anyone but Sai and his long-term (and largely live-in, not that she paid rent) girlfriend, Imogen Heaney. And even then, only because he’d slipped up one night after one too many frozen margaritas (damn Imogen and her frozen margarita machine!). 

If women endangered his rugby aspirations, men were ten times — no, a hundred times — more dangerous. Even in this progressive era, queerness and professional sports mixed like water and oil. So he’d always suppressed any attraction he felt to men, at least outside of the occasional late night session on his phone in bed.

Besides, that was the beauty of being bisexual. He could just choose to be with a woman someday, once he was established, he would be perfectly happy and no one ever had to be the wiser. Easy peasy.

But anyway. Back to the diminutive puppy-turned-person standing in Nick’s doorway.

It’s not like Nick was particularly nice to Sai, compared to other people. But for reasons surpassing Nick’s understanding, his boorish and curmudgeonly behavior only seemed to endear him more to Sai. No matter how grumpy he was, no matter how many curse words he dropped, no matter how many indignant and off-putting looks he would aim at Sai — the shorter man just smiled fondly and carried on like Nick had made a funny. It was baffling.

Over the past year, as he’d failed to form more significant bonds with other teammates, Sai had somehow entered Nick’s orbit. Or, more accurately, Nick had been pulled into Sai’s gravitational well. At first he’d felt like a… well, like a pet? Like a toy poodle who could piss on the carpet and everyone would just laugh and clap. But as he became more used to their friendship, it was weirdly comforting that he could be as dickish as he liked and Sai would still be there.

For example…

“Yes, I’m all done moving in,” Nick said, not bothering to sit upright. “No fucking thanks to you.”

Sai ambled over, maneuvering around the various boxes and bags littering the floor, and sat beside Nick, after a moment flopping down next to him. The two of them stared up at the smooth white ceiling.

“You should have come yesterday, I could have helped then,” Sai replied. “I told you I had plans with Imogen today.”

“What happened to bros before hoes?” Nick asked grumpily.

“Well… you’re not sleeping with me, that’s what happened,” Sai replied lightly.

“You wish,” Nick fired back.

“There are my boys,” they heard from the doorway. Filling the frame was Imogen, the personification of effervescence, Sai’s ride-or-die and exactly like Sai — never put off by Nick’s… Nickness. She was dressed in a perfectly matched and cleanly pressed outfit — Imogen invariably looked like she had just stepped off the pages of a catalog — and as always she sported twin strands of blonde in her otherwise brown hair.

Nick sighed. “Hello, Imogen.”

“Oh, you sound like you’re in a mood,” she replied. “I didn’t, uh, interrupt anything here, did I?”

“Jesus Christ, no you did not,” Nick said, his tone dripping with annoyance as he sat up to face the wench.

“Nicky—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Some days I think I’m never going to get that threesome I’ve been wanting.”

Nick turned to look at Sai lying on his mattress. “You okay with her talking like that about another guy?”

Sai sat up. “Nick, I’m not the obstacle to us having a threesome. I told you I picked you as my choice for a devil’s threeway. Say the word and we’ll make it happen.”

“Oh cripes,” Nick groaned. “You were serious about that?”

“Nick, I mean… I’m straight, but I’m not that straight.”

Nick stood up, stepping well clear of both Sai and Imogen.

“Okay, we’ve had a touching moment as new flatmates and you two have done a little foreplay with me as your unwilling puppet,” he said tersely. “Now go into Sai’s room and get down to the uhh-uhhhhhh-oh-god-yes-uhhhhHHHHHH and leave me in peace.”

Sai’s hip game was legendary among the Blackbirds, particularly since he looked like a short, glasses-wearing nerd. The trouble had all started when Imogen went to a brunch organized by the wives and girlfriends of the players… they plied her with half a dozen mimosas and she apparently spilled like the Exxon Valdez. Of course, even if Nick hadn’t heard about Sai’s prowess through the grapevine, he had firsthand knowledge. There was the time he fell asleep on Sai’s couch after a team party and was awoken by something he vaguely recalled was termed “scroaning.” Or the time Sai and Imogen had snuck off to the bathroom during a cheeky Nando’s and returned with mussed hair and some stains that definitely weren’t caused by peri-peri sauce. And the worst of all, the time Imogen meant to text Sai directly with a review of his performance the prior night — but accidentally texted their three-person group chat, forcing Nick very much against his will to learn precisely what that mouth do. 

Nick had only agreed to lease this flat after learning that the bedrooms didn’t share a wall — the living areas were in between them. A much-needed buffer between the nightly antics of Saimogen and… well, Nick and his hand. But he also wanted to move out of the shithole studio he’d been in for his first year, and Sai was the only person on the planet other than his mother who could put up with him, so up he would put with the scroaning. 

Sai chuckled and stood. He walked to the doorway, wrapping one arm around Imogen, but she spoke up before they left.

“Nick… you’re so high-strung. When are you going to find someone to fuck you?”

He crossed his arms angrily, flexing his muscles. “In 12 to 15 years when my body is broken and I retire from professional rugby.”

Imogen’s eyes raked up and down Nick’s muscled frame as Sai watched with amusement.

“With that ass? Such a waste,” she said. Then she turned to Sai. “Your ass, on the other hand… let’s go put it to good use.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled as they both pranced off. 

Nick surveyed the room. He started unpacking, but just a minute later he heard a loud thump, then another. Great. He looked up and realized that even though their rooms were apart, Saimogen sex noises traveled through the vents. He rolled his eyes and looked around for the box with all his electronics in it. Slipping on his noise-canceling headphones and hooking up to a playlist on his phone, Nick blocked out the noise and focused on unpacking and setting up his room.

An hour later, he’d finished. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, wondering whether it was safe, when he noticed something delicious in the air. He breathed in deeply — dinner. He ripped off his headphones and stepped out into the living area, where Sai and Imogen were making some tikka masala. 

With his flatmate and his girlfriend sexually sated for the time being and no longer casually trying to pick him up in his own bedroom, Nick slipped back into the relatively easy throes of friendship. As they ate, they discussed their summers: Nick had gone back to home to stay with his mother, and sharing the details of his day-to-day didn’t take long. Sai and Imogen had taken a road trip around the UK, although when Nick asked basic questions about famous sites they had allegedly seen they hemmed and hawed enough to confirm to Nick that they hadn’t seen the sites so much as the interior of various hotel rooms up and down the country. Probably a few motorway rest stops and petrol station loos, too, the horny bastards.

After dinner, they roped him into watching a few episodes of season two of White Lotus — Aubrey Plaza and Will Sharpe, now that was a threeway Nick would be on board with — before the tiring day caught up with everyone and they retired to their respective rooms. Imogen technically lived nearby, but Nick suspected she’d be here almost as often as he was. He didn’t mind, really, since she loved cooking and had promised to make dinner regularly.

The next morning, Nick found himself hitting his alarm multiple times as he struggled to start his day. When he finally cracked his eyes open and rubbed out the gunk that had caked in their crevices overnight, he was startled to find more sunlight than expected streaming through his window. A look at his phone revealed that his first pre-season event — an appointment to take new headshots and other promotional photos around the stadium before afternoon practice, their first of the pre-season — was only — FUCK! — half an hour away. 

He peed quickly, tried to find some clean clothes before giving up and donning the sweat-stained outfit he’d worn the prior day, threw his kit into a bag so he could change once he arrived and ran out the door. As he hustled down the block, Nick realized he was dragging. He generally tried to stay away from coffee — as a stimulant it was messy for his athletic regimen, and he really didn’t like the bitter taste, either — but he figured urgent circumstances would allow it this once. He had very little time.

He was just passing Cuppa’s, a cutesy-looking cafe halfway between his new flat and the stadium, so he ducked in. Nick immediately rolled his eyes at the line as he checked his phone. Eight minutes until his appointment, and he knew the stadium was another five-minute walk even at hustling pace. Being late would only cut down on the time to get good photos, and he didn’t want the Jumbotron to have some photo of him looking like a zombie twat displayed all season.

Of course, waiting behind the half-dozen people in line wasn’t going to get him the coffee he so desperately needed. Time to bank on that “rugby prince” magic for some special treatment.

“Excuse me, excuse me, in a bit of a rush, pardon,” Nick said as he made his way up the line. Nobody seemed to react to him either way — maybe they were all just stunned to run into a local sports hero on their morning coffee run — so he took that as a good sign.

“Could I get a black coffee to go, quickly?” Nick said as he pulled out his wallet and fumbled around for his credit card.

When several seconds went by without acknowledgment, Nick looked up at the barista.

He was a pale, skinny little fucker. Looked like his cheekbones could cut glass, particularly with the way he was scowling at Nick right now. The curly, dark hair piled atop his head was a lot to take in, but it didn’t hold a candle to the man’s wild eyebrows, which at the moment were bunched together angrily. Nick also noticed the man’s sparkling blue eyes were in fact serving him an icy death glare.

Nick used his highly sharpened skills of deduction to figure out the barista was pissed.

“No,” the man said. That was it. No.

“You… don’t have any black coffee? Just make something with caffeine and make it quick.”

The man stared at him incredulously for another few seconds before replying.

“You can’t be serious. This is some sort of joke, right?”

“What are you on about?”

“Do you really think you can just jump the queue? Coffee shops have an etiquette to them, mate.”

Mate? The fuck? 

No, Nick thought to himself. Remember the media training the team gave you. Don’t engage with trolls. De-escalate.

He centered himself and flashed his most winning smile. Had he brushed his teeth last night? Nick honestly couldn’t remember. He just hoped those pearly whites would get things going.

“Listen, mate, I admit not queuing is a bit of a dick move —”

“Oh, well, since you admit it!” the barista replied sarcastically.

Okay, Nick was done playing nice.

“You know what? I’m sorry, but I’d like to speak to your manager…” he leaned in to read the man’s name tag. “Gerald.”

Gerald’s eyes flashed with fear.

“No, sir, wait, please, I’m sorry — I, I’ll serve you now—”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s too late,” Nick replied. “I’d like to speak to your manager about this shoddy treatment.”

Sure, Nick felt like such a Karen right now. But he genuinely was in a hurry today and didn’t deserve or appreciate this barista’s horrendous sass.

“Yes, sir,” the barista said sadly, turning on his heel. He stood facing away from Nick for a second before flipping back around, his annoying face rearranged into a cheap, fake smile.

“You asked to speak to me, sir?”

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Shift supervisor at your service.”

Nick brought one hand to his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. This barista was such a little shit. Being a dick was one thing. But the theatrics? The self-righteousness? Just getting him the coffee would have taken less time, and then he’d be back to serving his precious line. But no, he had to be a drama queen about it.

“Sir, we require patrons to wait in the queue to place orders,” Gerald said. “If you’d like to step behind all these lovely people and wait your turn, I promise we’ll at least consider using clean equipment to make your drink when it’s finally your turn.”

Nick stared at Gerald. He pulled out his steeliest glare in the hopes of cowing the barista into submission. Not that doing so was difficult — he had completely tunnel-visioned on this asshole, ignorant of everything else happening around him, focused entirely on the curly-haired knob who had woken up this morning and chosen violence. But his unstoppable force met an immovable object — namely, Gerald’s complete lack of compassion for a man in need. Gerald’s only reaction to getting the full-blast Nick Nelson stink eye was to curl his lip slightly and raise one eyebrow in challenge.

Fuck.

Nick, red in the face with the sustained effort of looking pissed as well as his boiling frustration, looked at his phone. Five minutes. No time for coffee.

“Fuck this, fuck you, fucking fuck my life,” he growled, turning and stomping off. 

“Have a lovely day!” he heard Gerald call out in a saccharine tone when Nick reached the door. He responded by flashing him two middle fingers before leaving. 

As he stomped his way to the stadium — really, his trainers were making slapping noises on the pavement, he was slamming them down so hard — Nick seethed over the complete arsehole who could have saved his day by slinging up a quick cup of coffee, and instead deliberately chosen to ruin it, and to do it with that fake smile on lips.

Look, it’s not like he’s the one who came up with the whole “rugby prince” thing. It was the media that anointed him local sports royalty. And he didn’t even trade on his fame that often either. He never really asked for special treatment. Any other day, he’d have been perfectly happy to wait in line like everyone else. But he was running late, as everyone does every now and then, and instead of being nice about it, Gerald the barista woke up that morning and chose violence. 

Nick arrived with no time to spare, and had to rush through hair and makeup after changing into his uniform. He summoned whatever patience he’d need to get through this shoot, glad that he had made it on time and would be able to have good photos for the season. 

But in doing so, he’d had to give up the caffeine he so sorely needed to wipe the tired cobwebs from his brain. Even worse, now he was amped up in a bad way, a way in which he was surely flushed red and had crazy eyes. The cherry on top was the fact that Gerald had so thoroughly disrespected Nick for no good reason. Nick was completely ensconced in a bad mood, and it was all because of Gerald the arsehole barista.

Well, fuck that guy.

Chapter 2

Summary:

After suffering through Harry and some inane bickering among the rugby lads at the first practice of the season, Nick is summoned to his agent's office to discuss his image issues.

Notes:

Thank you to KitSaidOui for beta reading. A new chapter of his fic Blue Line to Foggy Bottom is out today, check it out!

“I’m telling you, jam and jelly are different.”

“They’re fucking not, they’re the same thing.”

“Then why are they called different names?”

“I call you Christian sometimes, and sometimes I call you fuckwad.”

“Very mature, Otis.”

“I thought you called it jelly when it’s for kids but jam when it's for grown-ups?”

“Oh Jesus, Kieran, did you really?”

“Wait, wait, wait. Then what are preserves?”

Nick was this close to sticking his head inside his locker and slamming the door a few dozen times rather than listen to the rugby team’s inane chit-chat as they got dressed. Normally, he’d be quietly amused by this conversation, wait for these guys to make complete fools of themselves, and then step in and explain the differences. Jam is made with mashed fruit; jelly is made with just the juice; preserves have chunks of fruit in them. They’d all be wowed, and ask why Nick knows that, and he’d mysteriously say he knows many things, omitting the fact that it was because he’d helped his mum make homemade jams and jellies as a kid. Not exactly the kind of origin story that goes over well with the lads.

But Nick was still too blinded with rage by his encounter with Gerald the Arsehole Barista to be bemused by the jam versus jelly debate. 

Nick would be the first to admit he’s not the friendliest person on the block. Okay, not the first to admit, but he had long gotten past caring enough to deny it. But normally he shrugged off bad experiences. People were rude, and it rarely shook him. But here he was, five hours later, gearing up for his first rugby practice of the season, and all he could think about was that little monster at Cuppa’s. He’d hardly left Nick’s mind all day, though it only just occurred to him that blowing up at a senior employee of the neighborhood coffee shop might make going back there for the next, oh, nine months awkward. Not to mention there was a 100 percent chance that dick would spit in his coffee.

Great. Really kicking off Year Two with aplomb. 

Nick was concentrating on lacing his shoes when a shadow passed over him. He looked up.

“Nicholas,” said the blond bastard standing in front of him. 

Harry Greene. Nick liked, or at least tolerated, most of the guys on the team. But he couldn’t stand Harry. Smug, arrogant braggart with shit for brains and, if Imogen’s intel from the ladies’ group was to be believed, selfish in the sack. Sadly, Harry was in the upper quartile of rugby players. His modicum of skill, combined with his rich daddy’s minority holding in the Blackbirds, had guaranteed Harry a place on the starting line after he’d finished his own rookie season last year.

Harry had almost leveraged that money into being team captain, as well, despite his still junior status. Nick knew it would turn their lives into endless torment to have Harry running the show. But being captain wasn’t anything Nick wanted — the administrative responsibilities, having to actually care about your teammates and help them when they need it, hell no. Nick was focused on one thing: Improving his game and scoring as much as possible to look good for scouts. So last spring, he ran a quiet campaign for the team to elect Otis Smith instead. Otis was friendly and a solid player. Harry tried to buy off the election by paying for a team trip to Manchester one weekend to go clubbing, but thankfully a slim majority decided not to sign a deal with the devil and voted for Otis instead. Of course, over the summer Harry had weaseled his way into becoming “vice captain,” which Nick was 95 percent sure was a made-up title. But whatever daddy’s little boy needed to feel special.

“Harold,” Nick replied. He was pretty sure that wasn’t his real name, but fuck him.

“Listen, Nicholas, did you keep up with your training over the summer?”

Nick scrunched his face in confusion. “Uh, yeah, not that it’s any of your business.”

Harry whipped out a clipboard he’d been holding at his side and appeared to focus on reading some document and checking off something.

“Just confirming, you know, since I heard you had to get a job to help your mum out. I thought maybe that took up all your time.”

Nick stilled, his face flushed red. Who the fuck had gone around blabbing about him having to get a shitty summer job in landscaping to help out his single mum? Sai and Imogen were the only ones who knew that, and Nick trusted them not to share something like that with anyone else. Whoever had found out and spread some shitty rumor had just bought themselves one free orchiectomy.

“Hey, Harvey,” Nick said, deliberately getting Harry’s name wrong again. “Just FYI, but even if I’d sat on the couch all summer eating Monster Munch and watching EastEnders, I’d still whip your ass on the field. So why don’t you fuck off and go pretend to be important somewhere else?”

Harry turned and left, but not, Nick noticed with frustration, without curling his lip slightly. If that bastard thought he’d landed a blow, he was sorely mistaken.

Nick had just finished lacing up when Otis called for the team to hit the pitch for their first practice of the term. They had a lot of work to do, getting back into form as a unit, training first-year rookies — and trying to figure out which maintenance guy had the fucking key to the fucking equipment shed, goddamn it.

A couple of hours later, Nick and the rest of them returned to the locker room, sweaty, grassy — and with huge smiles plastered on their faces. The acrimony and irritation that typically surged through Nick’s veins was always quieted by a couple hours on the pitch. Maybe it was the distraction of his aching muscles, his simple love for the game, or just the fact that on the field, differences were settled quickly and decisively. The Blackbirds may not have been a top-tier team, but Coach Singh gave no quarter to dramatic bullshit. 

Nick stripped down, tossed his soiled uniform in the laundry cart and found an empty stall. Nick wasn’t really attracted to any of his teammates — he tended to go more for smaller, slender folks, not beefy sporty types — but he appreciated being able to avoid those awkward group showers like some stadiums had. He truly didn’t see anyone on the team sexually, but one’s dick was not always on the same page, particularly after leg day… it was always pre-swollen after leg day. All Nick needed was to see one butt and have a dirty thought and suddenly there’s a problem that can’t be covered up when nude.

He scrubbed down, enjoying the hot water streaming over his aching muscles, then toweled off and returned to his cubby. Just as he arrived, he saw his phone ping with a text. It was from Tara, his agent, asking him to swing by her office when he was done. It was far enough he’d need to get a cab, but he texted back that he’d be there in 20 minutes before dressing, telling Sai not to wait up and heading off.

The receptionist at Jones Olsson Management flashed a look of recognition as soon as Nick walked into the small lobby.

“Mr. Nelson! Welcome, Ms. Jones is expecting you, this way.”

Now that was quality service. Gerald could take a note.

The receptionist led Nick down the hall to Tara’s office, although of course he knew the way already. 

“Nick Nelson,” Tara said when he entered. She indicated he should take a seat in front of her desk, and he sat awkwardly while she wrote something down on some form.

“Right,” Tara finally said, looking up. “Good summer?”

“All right.”

“Ready for your second and final rookie year?”

“Yeah.”

“Today was your first practice, yeah? How’d that go?”

“I need to work on my passing.”

Tara nodded like she knew what that meant, leaving a pregnant pause between them.

Nick was increasingly on edge. This was an unusual encounter with his agent, whom he normally talked to over the phone. Something must be wrong.

“Tara, what’s up?”

Tara looked like she was trying to formulate her words.

“It’s about your public image, Nick.”

Nick frowned. His public image was great. The rugby prince, handsome, charming when he needed to be. What could be wrong?

“My image is fine.”

“It’s… not, though,” Tara said. “I’m guessing you haven’t gone on Twitter today.”

“I make it my policy never to go on Twitter,” Nick replied.

Tara smiled wanly. “That would be my personal preference, too, but… it’s my job. And a good thing, too, because this video is going viral.”

She swung her computer monitor around so Nick could see it. On the screen was a video still of him — from Cuppa’s this morning. Fuck. Someone filmed that? 

Tara hit play, and Nick’s face reddened as he watched his encounter with Gerald play out. From the camera’s vantage point off to the side, Gerald was blocked by a cappuccino machine, leaving only his voice, which was hard to hear — whereas Nick came in loud and clear. The video ended with him double-fingering on his way out the door, and Tara turned the monitor back toward her.

“Okay, first, just to verify… you don’t have an evil twin brother, do you?” she asked.

“No,” Nick mumbled, “just an evil regular brother.” 

“Right, right… well this has already been viewed 300,000 times, and #rugbyprincess is trending.”

Nick scoffed. “That’s so sexist!” 

“I agree, and yet Twitter being sexist is like Number 29 on our list of problems for today,” Tara said. “There’s something else. Did you work as a gardener this summer?”

“What?” Nick asked, sitting upright. “Why?”

“A little while ago a sports gossip blog posted a photo of what appears to be you tending to some wildflowers? Is this some sort of elaborate deepfake?”

Nick burned red with both rage and embarrassment. “I… took a part-time job in landscaping. My mum needed help with the bills and… well, you know how much I make. Usually I was driving a riding lawnmower. But I did spend one day planting wildflowers in a city park.”

“So the photo’s real,” Tara said, staring off into the distance. “Well, that explains the newly trending #princesspeachblossom.”

Nick rubbed both hands over his face. This was not fucking happening. Starting his second rookie year off with a social media nightmare was going to sour teams on hiring him. Rugby players could act like dickwads after they made it big, not before. And he strongly suspected Harry was somehow involved in that photo leaking. He doubted Harry suspected he was bisexual, but even a hint that an athlete might be fruity — which in the year of our lord 2023 apparently still included “planting plants in exchange for cash” — could be enough to make prospective teams turn away.

“Okay, so I… what? Post an apology to the barista on social media?”

Tara sighed. “Nick, this has gone way beyond slapping some ‘listening and learning’ BS in your notes app and calling it a day,” she said. “I’ve hired… an image consultant.”

An — an image consultant? A PR jerk? A spin doctor? Fucking fuck, just what Nick needed, a professional nag in his life.

“You what?”

“I have hired the very best PR guy your measly little salary can afford,” Tara said. “He’s going to tell you what to do and you’re going to fucking do it. Okay?”

“I… uh…” Nick was too dumbfounded to really take in what Tara was telling him. This was all happening so suddenly.

She read something off her computer and wrote it down on a sticky note, pulling it off the stack and handing it to Nick.

“Charlie Spring
Hope Public Relations
1104 Library Avenue, Suite 3
Tuesday, 11 o’clock”

“Your first appointment is tomorrow morning, before practice. Don’t miss it. Your whole future hangs on these PR sessions.”

With that, Tara apparently was done. She swiveled away in her chair, tapping away at her computer again, paying no attention to Nick. He continued to sit there, staring at the sticky note for a couple of minutes before finally picking up his bag and stumbling back down the hallway and out onto the street.

He was incensed at the unfairness of it all. But he couldn’t take it out on Tara — deep down, he knew she was doing her job, which was to get him a big contract. Guess he’d have to dump all his hatred on this Charlie guy. Fuck him. Nick hated public relations people, so bossy and mightier-than-thou (and fucking expensive, he could only imagine how much this was costing him, even if Charlie was the bargain option). And Nick just knew Charlie would be laughing at him all the way to the bank to cash his overpriced checks. Fuck Charlie.

He chose to stomp halfway across town back to his apartment, a black cloud trailing above his head the whole time. With each angry step, he became increasingly ashamed that it had come to this, that he was on bended knee because he yelled at a service worker. Okay, fine, it was a douche move. But fuck, Nick didn’t deserve to go down over one little outburst. He was going to have to swallow it, or else.

Sai was sitting on the couch reading a book when Nick came through the door.

“Hey pumpkin… So what did Tara want?” he asked absently, squinting at the page.

Nick ignored his question.

“Where’s Imogen?”

“She got a job at this cafe nearby, Cuppa’s? Apparently her Etsy jewelry store has been slow lately and she needed some extra income.”

Nick stilled. “Seriously, Cuppa’s?

“Yeah, why?”

If only Imogen had been there this morning. She’d have hooked him up with some caffeine. Yes, there would have been sass, but also some bloody coffee. 

“No reason.”

“Riiight,” Sai said slowly. “No, I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?”

Nick breathed in deeply, trying to dissipate the hatred he was feeling for himself and for Gerald and preemptively for Charlie right now. Sai was his friend, his best friend, who knew everything about him. Nick could trust him. He had to trust somebody.

“I… yelled at a barista this morning… at Cuppa’s… and it went viral.”

Sai’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “You yelled at a barista?”

Nick shuffled his feet, staring at the floor. “It wasn’t my finest fucking hour, okay? I was late and grumpy and for once, for once , I tried to cash in on the rugby prince thing to skip the line, and now my chances at a contract are in danger. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Hey.” Sai spoke sharply. “No one talks about my friend Nick Nelson that way. Not even Nick Nelson. You got that?”

Nick rolled his eyes. What was Sai going to do, beat him up for shit-talking himself? But Nick’s incredulity obscured that deeper down, he felt a twinge in his heart. That anyone other than his mother could care about him that much. Would challenge him to be better. Fuck. Nick didn’t realize he was effectively one Sai away from having no one in this world who gave a flying fuck about him.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to,” Sai said. As if he expected Nick to look in a mirror and have a heart-to-heart with himself. 

Nick restrained himself from rolling his eyes again, lest he sprain some critical ocular muscle from overuse. “Sorry, Nick.”

“Damn right,” Sai said. “Now you know what to do.”

Nick eyed the jar on top of the fridge. The “no self-deprecation” jar. Last year, Sai had started making him put a pound coin in it each time Nick said something hateful about himself, and it had migrated to their new place. God Nick hated that jar. It was so heavy at this point it could kill a cat if it fell off the fridge. 

“Jesus Christ,” Nick muttered as he skulked over, fished through his pockets for a coin and slid it through the slot in the top. The cold, clanking noise of metal on glass ricocheted through Nick’s nerves like a gunshot.

“Divine intervention is… unlikely,” Sai quipped.

The next morning, Nick trudged over to Hope Public Relations on Library Avenue after practice. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with, uh, Charlie Spring?” he asked the receptionist.

She received a phone call just then. “Yes, sir, down that hall, third door on the right,” she said, waving in the general direction Nick was supposed to go before answering the phone. Great service, he thought sarcastically. Maybe a bargain-basement PR firm wasn’t the smartest way to go.

Besides, Nick was a client here. As in, paying them? Maybe a modicum of respect was called for. These grievances ran through Nick’s head in an ever-flaming circle as he marched down the hall to the third door on the right. His phone read 11:08 a.m. by that point. Charlie would probably berate him for being late to his own meeting, but, like, it wasn’t his fault this building was so hard to find.

Nick didn’t even bother trying to calm himself before opening the door. 

But maybe he should have, because on the other side of it was the one person in this world he wanted to see even less than Charlie Spring.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Nick clashes with his new PR guy, Charlie Spring. But extricating himself from the situation may not be so easy.

Notes:

Continued gratitude to beta reader KitSaidOui, who amazingly is even smarter than he is beautiful.

Nick was supposed to be meeting Charlie Spring, his new PR guru.

But someone even worse was occupying the room, tapping away on a laptop next to a stack of binders.

Sharp features, skinny twink body, thick, luscious curls. His face was a picture of shock rather than the steaming glares he had shot Nick the prior day, but it was definitely him.

Gerald, the fucking cafe asshole.

Nick frowned, his mind racing for a minute.

“Oh Jesus, not you,” Nick moaned as he stepped into the small conference room, which had a table and enough seating for six. There was a whiteboard along one wall, and the window next to the door had shades on it that could be drawn, and were at the moment, which is why Nick stumbled upon Nelson Enemy No. 1 with no warning.

Gerald’s face contorted in confusion.

“Look, okay, they must have brought you in so I can apologize,” Nick started, rubbing one hand against his clenched eyebrows. “And you know what? I will. I acted like a douchebag and that was wrong. I’m sorry. 

Gerald stared at him, his eyebrows shot up above his hairline.

“Uhh… thank you.”

“I don’t usually treat service workers that way,” Nick continued. Stop there, stop there, stop there. “It’s just that… I was in a huge rush and I had a simple request and, you know, you didn’t have to be so prissy about it, is all I’m saying.”

Gerald’s eyebrows, which had descended back to their normal position, again shot up behind his curly locks. 

“Prissy?” he exclaimed, tilting his head. “Wow. Great apology.”

“Didn’t hear you say sorry,” Nick mumbled.

Apparently not quietly enough.

“Woooooow,” Gerald said. “You’re a real charmer.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry, now would you please clear out? I’m here to meet Charlie Spring, did he step out or something?”

Gerald stared at him, a strange look in his eyes. Recognition, followed by… dread? 

“You’re Nick Nelson.”

“In the flesh,” Nick said, fake curtseying. “You want a selfie or an autograph or something?”

Gerald just kept staring at him, a pained look splashed across his face.

“Okay, no selfie.”

“Nick… I’m Charlie Spring.”

Nick looked around the room as if he expected to find hidden cameras filming him for some new TV show about pranked athletes.

“Nooo… Charlie Spring is my new PR guy. You’re a barista.”

Gerald — Charlie? — clenched his jaw and blushed as he stared at the carpet. “I’m both,” he said in a flat voice. “Being bottom man on the totem pole around here means I need to work some shifts at Cuppa’s to make ends meet.”

Nick screwed up his face. “So the guy I hired to fix my viral video where I yell at a barista… is said barista. What are the odds?”

“With my luck?” Charlie responded sardonically. “Surprisingly high.”

“Why did you take me on if you knew I was the one who yelled at you?”

“Because I didn’t know,” Charlie groaned. “My boss only told me about this assignment fucking ten minutes ago. I hadn’t gotten around to googling your face yet. Oh, fuck me, fuck.”

“Ditto,” Nick commiserated. He crossed his arms tightly across his broad chest, confusion splayed across his face. “Wait, why did your nametag at Cuppa’s say Gerald?”

“I… that’s just some old nametag I put on instead of bothering to make a new one when I was hired,” the other man replied. “Which if I had, would read Charlie. Short for Charlie Spring.”

“Okay, well, this is clearly not going to work out,” Nick said.

“Clearly.”

“So I’m gonna… go.”

“Great. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!” Charlie said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’d say the same but I’m honestly not sure you have an ass,” Nick said, timing his retort so that he was well out the door by the time he finished, guaranteeing him the last word. He was pleased to hear Charlie scoff loudly just before the door swung completely shut.

It wasn’t until Nick was back out on the street that he realized the implications of what he’d just said to Charlie. Probably shouldn’t have critiqued his ass… not super straight behavior. He hadn’t even really meant it. He’d been so upset at the whole situation that he’d tunnel visioned on Charlie’s face. It had just been a throwaway remark because Charlie had lobbed that line about Nick’s ass. 

Eh, fuck it. He was never going to see the jerk again.

Speaking of… Nick checked his phone. He had time to see Tara before practice that afternoon. Nick hailed an Uber and was at her office again in twenty minutes.

“Is she in?” he asked the receptionist as he walked past, not even slowing down.

“Oh! Yes, but, uh, she’s eating lunch,” the woman said, standing up and getting tangled in her headset.

“That’s fine,” Nick called back over his shoulder as he walked down the hall and opened Tara’s office door.

“Tara, we gotta — oh, Christ on a bike!”

On the table in front of Tara’s couch were two salads. Untouched, apparently because their owners, Tara and her business-slash-life partner, Darcy, were snogging on the couch with their blouses half unbuttoned.

“Nick! Fuck!” Tara said, whipping her hair up and back behind her head and pulling her shirt back together to hide her cleavage. Beside her, Darcy just laughed and laid there, aloof. 

Nick had been childhood friends with Tara. They lost touch a bit as they got older, but when both ended up at Leeds, they quickly fell back into being best friends. It wasn’t long before Darcy Olsson fell into Tara’s orbit, and thus Nick’s. And when they decided to start their own management firm right out of uni, Nick signed up as their very first client. In the brief year since, they’d picked up enough other clients to pay the bills. But it was also another reason Nick wanted to get as good a deal as possible — more money for him meant more money for his friends.

His friends had always loved winding Nick up, especially Darcy.

“Hey, Nicholas,” she said with a laugh. 

“Darce,” he replied, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. “Sorry to interrupt your… meeting.”

“What are you doing here?” Tara asked, standing and turning away from Nick to button her blouse back up.

“It’s about the PR guy you hired… I need a new one.”

“Oh Nick,” Tara said sadly, walking over behind her desk. “Wasn’t your appointment like an hour ago?”

“Half hour.”

“So you fucked it up in record time.”

“I did not fuck it up!” Nick replied, emphasizing the first-person pronoun as he slid into one of the chairs in front of Tara’ desk. “I’m guessing you didn’t know but Charlie Spring was also the barista I … had the issue with.”

“What, really?” Darcy asked, plopping into the chair next to him.

“Would you put those things away? Jeez!” Nick exclaimed, holding one hand up close to his face to block the image of Darcy’s still-open blouse.

“What, like you’ve never seen a great pair of tits before, Nicholas?” Darcy said. “I’m still wearing a bra, don’t be like that.”

Nick rolled his eyes and focused on Tara. 

“You have to get me a new guy,” he moaned.

“All right, all right, hold on.” Tara picked up her phone and dialed.

“Hey Ben, it’s Tara Jones… great, thanks… yeah, yeah. Listen…”

As she talked, Darcy leaned over. Nick did his best to ignore her ample cleavage.

“Why does your PR guy work in a coffee shop?” she whispered.

“He said to make ends meet,” Nick replied, matching her low voice.

“Jesus, that’s awful. Aren’t PR people supposed to be rolling in it?”

“Not my problem,” Nick muttered.

Tara seemed to be wrapping up her call. “Yeah… Right, right… Okay, thanks for clearing that up, glad we worked it out.”

She hung up and put her phone down.

“Yup, you’re stuck with Charlie Spring.”

Nick seethed. “What? Why?!” 

“We already signed a contract,” Tara said, shrugging.

“There has to be a way out of it,” Nick pondered.

“I asked,” Tara replied. “If you want to break the contract, you’d still be on the hook for the full cost.” She wrote something down on a sticky note and handed it over to Nick.

When Nick saw the numbers after the pound sign, his eyes bugged out.

“Holy shit, how am I affording this?”

“Truth be told, you’re not,” Tara said, settling back in her chair. “The Blackbirds agreed to cover three-fourths of the cost. They’re trying to avoid an image liability crisis before you really go off the deep end and they have to cancel you.”

Nick was flummoxed. “All this because of one viral video?”

Tara shot an uncomfortable look at Darcy. “Erm, no, not really. That was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were. You’ve had some mounting image issues for a while now. You’ve given a few poor interviews that didn’t do you any favors. That little fight you had when you were on the Sky Sports panel.”

“The bird,” Darcy chimed in.

“The biiiiird,” Tara agreed.

As if it was Nick’s fault that fucking pigeon dove right in front of the ball he had just kicked. As if anyone would miss another flying rat. 

“I know, the bird wasn’t really your fault,” Tara said preemptively when Nick opened his mouth to object. “But your public image was impacted anyway. And in a few months I’m going to be doing my damndest to sell you to the highest bidder, so we need to look sharp, yeah?”

Nick slid down in his chair in defeat. He couldn’t afford not to use Charlie Spring. Look, Nick knew he was kind of difficult to be around. But did the universe have to constantly throw him loss after loss? 

Nick just needed one good thing in his life. Instead, he gets Charlie Spring.

“You need to call Charlie and set up another meeting,” Tara said. “Now, go forth and be angry, Nick.”

He stood and looked at the time. Even walking to the stadium from here, he’d be early for practice, but he could get in some time on the punching bag, which he knew would feel good, physically and emotionally.  

“And Nick, don’t hit Charlie or anything okay?” Tara added. “You can’t afford the lawsuit.”

“Oh come on,” Nick protested. “I would never punch someone, I’m a jerk but I’m not insane.”

He made it to Tara’s door when Darcy called out from where she was still sitting in front of Tara’s desk.

“Hey Nicholas, one thing before you go.”

“What?”

She made eye contact, then glanced down at her cleavage, then back up at Nick, then back down at her breasts, and finally back to Nick. 

“They’re good, right?”

Nick turned red and walked out without a word, one eye twitching as he ignored the cackling sound of Darcy laughing trailing him down the corridor.

He did indeed work out some anger in the gym, then made it through practice without any significant incident, although he kept an eye on Harry Greene, who kept giving him weird looks. Was he behind the flower picture? Or just amused because he saw it and it brought his shitty little heart joy? Nick hoped he wouldn’t find out because that might put his promise to Tara not to punch anyone to the test.

Afterward, he and Sai walked home together in silence. Nick knew it was awkward — Sai usually did a lot of talking, blabbering really, with Nick mostly just grunting in response, but their system worked. 

When they arrived back at their flat, they walked in to find Imogen unpacking a bag of groceries.

“Hey boys,” she said, kissing Sai and blowing a kiss at Nick. “Thought I’d make some Thai peanut noodles tonight.”

“Nice!” Sai said, peering into the bag. Nick trudged over and plopped down in a chair in the living room, wiped from his emotionally turbulent and physically demanding day.

“Nicky—” Imogen started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“— you okay?”

Nick didn’t answer immediately.

“He was pretty checked out all afternoon,” Sai told Imogen.

Nick sighed loudly. “Remember I told you about that pissant little junior manager bitch at the cafe yesterday?” he asked.

“The absolute monster who wanted you to wait in line like every other customer?” Sai said with a twinkle in his eye as he sat down on the couch near Nick.

“Yeah. ‘Gerald,’” Nick said, his voice making the name sound disgusting. “Well, it turns out his name is actually Charlie Spring and he’s my fucking PR guy now.”

Nick was startled when Imogen squealed and started clapping in excitement. Sai also looked at her with mild alarm.

“Oh my god, Charlie Spring! He is soooooOOOOO cute!”

“You know this guy?” Sai asked.

“Yeah, I met him working at Cuppa’s!” Imogen said. “Oh my god, I didn’t know who you meant when you said Gerald… I forgot he wears the wrong name tag. Wait, you hate him? He’s like the sweetest guy.”

“Yeah, maybe if you’re a cute girl and he gives you good service because he wants to bang you,” Nick complained.

Imogen barked out a laugh. Sai and Nick shared a confused look.

“Sweetie, Charlie is, like, super gay. He told me. I mean, he tells everyone. Not that he really needs too… Often wears a gay pride pin. And he’s like vice president of this local queer rights group. He was even in the paper a few weeks ago.”

Nick was surprised. He now wondered if some of the uptight nerd vibes he’d been getting were actually just uptight gay vibes. Either way, Charlie surely had something stuck up his ass. 

“Oh my god! You two should totally go out! It would be a perfect ‘opposites attract’ situation!” Imogen said excitedly. 

“No, absolutely not, no,” Nick said, crossing his arms back and forth over his chest to gesture no. “Number one: I’m not dating anyone. Number two: I’m not dating men. Number three: Charlie Spring is a massive jerkface and I loathe him entirely.” 

Sai’s eyes narrowed. “Was that a Grinch reference, Nick?”

Nick avoided his gaze and fought off a light blush.

“My point is, fuck that guy.”

Sai and Imogen shared a look.

“No, no,” Nick sputtered. “Not fuck him like, fuck him — just, fuck him!”

“So eloquent,” Imogen shot back with a smirk.

“So what are you going to do?” Sai asked. “New PR guy?”

Nick sighed and sank into the chair.

“I already tried. Tara says we signed the contract, so…”

Sai stood up. “Guess you’re just going to have to close your eyes and think of England.” He held out a hand to Imogen. “Come on baby, let’s make dinner. You got about half an hour, Nick.”

“K.”

Nick quickly scarpered for his bedroom as the happy sounds of Sai and Imogen cooking in the tiny kitchen filled the living room. They were extremely sappy together, particularly when cooking, and if you weren’t careful, you’d get some of the sap on you. And sometimes flour if they were baking.

Nick laid back on his bed, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, doing counting exercises and thinking about baby ducks and shit as he tried to calm his mind.

Okay. This was still fixable. He didn’t really want to suck up to that asshole, but Nick apparently needed Charlie. So it was time to be the bigger man. Make nice. Put on his happy face. He could get along with Charlie Spring, Nick knew it. Or at least, tolerate him long enough to get a fat contract.

By the time Imogen came and got him to eat noodles, Nick had formulated a cease-fire plan.

Before falling asleep, he set his alarm extra early so he’d have plenty of time to stop in at Cuppa’s on his way to the stadium for a morning workout.

Notes:

Okay, a lot of you were Suspicious™ that Gerald and Charlie were one and the same. Did I fool anybody?

Chapter 4

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick discovers Charlie Spring and Gerald the barista are one and the same. He nopes out. Tara yups him back in. Imogen says Nick and Charlie would make a cute couple.

This time: Nick grits his teeth and tries to make it work with Charlie. Even though they're stuck together, both men are determined to be thorns in the other's side.

Notes:

Beta reader KitSaidOui is a truly wonderful human being who continues to make Scorched Earth better and better.

Nick didn’t even think until he was opening the door to Cuppa’s that Charlie might not even be there. Just because he worked there part-time didn’t mean he had the same schedule every day. But he was here now, so he might as well shoot his shot. Nick had decided to try for an in-person reconciliation, to avoid the confusion or imprecision that came with texting or emailing.

He spied the curly hair as soon as he was inside. There was, of course, a queue, and now Nick knew he had to stand in it even though he didn’t intend to purchase anything, free to admire the standard coffee shop decorations around the place. He thought over and over about what he was going to say as the line shuffled closer to the counter, though he was temporarily sidetracked with annoyance when a woman apparently placed an order for an entire office, a dozen drinks, each one customized precisely and my god how he hated coffee shops. Tamp down the rage, tamp down the rage…

He watched Charlie interacting with the customers. The woman buying a dozen drinks made him look a little frazzled, but otherwise he was jovially speaking with people, a smile creasing his eyes and the occasional laugh punctuating his sentences. He seemed to be having a genuinely nice time, even if it was kind of early in the morning for joy. It was hard for Nick to juxtapose happy barista Charlie with sassy asshole Charlie. Maybe he was only an asshole to Nick. Great.

Nick’s suspicion was confirmed when he was second in line. Charlie glanced past the customer in front of him and recognized Nick, and when he did, both his smile and shoulders drooped slightly. He recovered quickly enough that the customer didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

Finally, Nick stepped up to the counter.

“What can I get you, sir?” Charlie asked. His voice was flat, uninterested, nothing like the sing-song tone he’d used with every other customer.

Nick swayed nervously. 

“I wanted to… see about rescheduling our meeting,” he muttered. 

Charlie’s left eyebrow raised amusedly. 

“So now you would like to have a meeting?”

Nick placed both hands on the counter, bracing himself as he leant forward slightly. 

“You’re really going to make me beg?”

Charlie’s lip curled up evilly. 

“Considering what a dick you were to me — twice — yeah, I think I would like to hear a little begging.”

Nick fought down the light urge to vomit he felt come up through his throat as this fucking prick stood there smugly and shat all over his olive branch. If he thought Nick was going to roll over and take it so easily, Charlie had a lot to learn.

“Listen —”

Before he could fire off a return shot, Nick was distracted by the door behind the counter swinging open with a loud bang. And who should emerge carrying two jugs of oat milk but Imogen, donned with the Cuppa’s apron and her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Charlie, I got the oat milk but on god I cannot find the pea protein—”

Imogen suddenly stopped talking when she spotted Nick on the other side of the counter. She looked surprised, locking eyes with Nick for a spot and prompting Charlie to look back and forth between them several times in confusion.

“Oh my god, Nicky!”

“Don’t call me that,” Nick groaned. He lowered his head to the counter, feeling the cool marble press against his forehead. Of course he loved Imogen, but her effervescence could be… a lot. Particularly when he was about to throw hands, uh-gain, with his PR guy-slash-barista.

“And how does a delightful ray of sunshine like you know a hulking garbage troll like this?” Charlie asked.

Oh, so Charlie wanted to get choked out, that’s how he wanted to leave this world. Nick had a bit of an urge to grant his wish, were it not for the fact that last time he was in here, his tantrum was filmed for all Twitter to see.

“Oh my god, stop!” Imogen said, seemingly brushing off Charlie’s rude description. “Nick is Sai’s teammate and flatmate.” 

“And here I thought we were friends, too,” Nick huffed, crossing his arms tightly over his bulging chest. 

“I see,” Charlie said, his eyes seemingly stuck staring at Nick’s torso. “I suppose I figured your boyfriend must know Nick when you said he was also a rugby player, but I didn’t realize they lived together.”

“As of last week,” Nick said.

“You mean Sai voluntarily shacked up with you?” Charlie asked, seemingly genuinely perplexed that anyone could stand to be around Nick for more than a minute. Looked in the mirror lately, pal, Nick wondered.

Imogen cooed. “I know Nick looks like a big meanie, but deep down he is the softest, toastiest little marshmallow ever.”

Nick rolled his eyes and groaned. “For the love of god, stop comparing me to sweets.”

“So how is the big ‘please take me back’ plan going, Nicky?” Imogen asked.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “And it’s going just fine.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Ehhhhh… I don’t know about that.”

“Well, you boys better make it quick. That queue is getting longer,” Imogen said. “I’ll get someone else to show me where the pea protein milk is.” With that, she winked at Nick and skipped into the back again.

Nick looked behind him and realized there were indeed multiple people tapping their feet anxiously, waiting to place their order. He hoped no one was filming. “Rugby prince jams up cafe” was not what he needed in his trending column today.

“Can you be at Hope PR at 4?” Charlie said, only rolling his eyes slightly. “We can start coming up with a plan then.”

Nick clapped his hands together.

“4 o’clock, absolutely, you got it,” he said, backing away from the counter.

“Oh, and Nick,” Charlie said. Nick braced himself for another insult. “Nice work standing in line. I knew you had it in you."

Nick felt infantilized by that jackass. Just had to get one last dig in, when he knows Nick can’t retaliate or respond at all or risk going viral again. Charlie was the type to pour salt in the wound. So be it. Once they weren’t being watched by two dozen coffee drinkers, Nick would give back as good as he got, of that Charlie could be certain. 

But for now, he had really just one trick up his sleeve. 

“And since I stood in line politely, could I please have one caffeine-free tea?” Nick even batted his eyelashes at Charlie, hoping it would come across like the low-key bird-flipping it was. 

Charlie just looked at Nick for a few seconds, not reacting. 

Then his lip curled ever so slightly. “Could I get one decaf black vanilla?” he shouted, writing Nick’s name on a cup and handing it to one of the workers behind him.

Nick preened a bit before stepping over to the payment station and flashing his credit card. He even gave Charlie a nice big tip, even though he was paying him what was frankly a gobsmacking amount of money for advice like “don’t yell at baristas, dumbass.” Charlie turned to the next customer, apologizing profusely for the delay and blaming a “very difficult” customer. Nick was pretty sure he was speaking just loudly enough that his voice would carry over to him by the pickup counter. He pursed his lips but kept them shut.

A minute later, one of the women baristas stepped up to the counter. 

“Decaf tea for… uh…” she trailed off and looked over at Charlie, who caught her eye and nodded.

“Decaf tea for Hulking Garbage Troll,” she called out. That was indeed what was written on the cup. He’s gotten Rick and Mick from baristas before, but this was a new one.

Nick consciously unclenched his jaw before he shattered a tooth and picked up the cup. He met eyes with Charlie and shot him the biggest fake smile he could muster. He got the same in return.

Fuck.

This. 

Guy.

 

***

 

At 3:59 p.m., Nick burst through the door of Hope Public Relations, determined not to be late again. He’d gotten off on the wrong foot with Charlie… well, wrong feet, at least five or six of them at this point. And he was determined to put in a little more effort. If only to not waste the gobs of money they were paying Charlie. 

The receptionist sent him to the same conference room as before. When he walked in, Charlie was sitting there, his laptop out and the same stack of binders at his side. Nick didn’t bother with a greeting, he just marched over to the seat across from Charlie and slid in, ready to buckle down. He stared at Charlie, his eyebrows somewhat elevated. Get on with it, he thought.

“First, I thought I should acknowledge that, no, I don’t like you—”

“And I don’t like you, perfect,” Nick interrupted. Douche move. As intended.

Charlie sighed heavily before continuing. 

“...And you don’t like me. But that’s okay. We don’t need to like each other for this to work. This is my job. And yours, too, really, as I understand a promising athletic career is on the line. So all we have to do is use a modicum of respect and we’ll both get through this alive and hopefully better off. Do you think you can handle that?”

It would be easy to just say yes. Too easy.

Nick decided to piss Charlie off, see how committed he was to this.

“I’m an up-and-coming professional athlete, so yeah, I think I can handle that.”

Charlie just looked at him, his lips pursed. Nick was pretty sure he saw his pupils dilating in rage. Score one. Game on. 

The curly-haired man eventually broke eye contact and looked over at the binders. He picked one up and slid it across the table to Nick — harder than was necessary, so it hit him in the chest. Certainly not forcefully enough to hurt, but that hadn’t been his goal, and Nick begrudgingly could respect someone who played the long con.

“I’ve come up with a multi-month plan to address your image issues,” Charlie said. “There are two tracks. One is you and I meeting twice a week.”

“What? Why?” Nick interrupted, this time not out of douchebaggery but just because he was surprised.

Charlie sucked in a breath, clearly formulating his thoughts. “Nick, you… you’re a thoroughbred. A prize stallion.” 

Nick’s eyes narrowed. Those words were superficially flattering, but there was obviously a humongous “but” coming.

“But,” Charlie continued, “you haven’t been trained. You’re still wild. You need a jockey to bring you in line.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “And what? You’re going to be the one to ride me until I break?”

Charlie blushed hard and looked away completely, and after a second Nick realized what he’d implied. Nick had been so stuck in the equestrian metaphor that he didn’t realize what he sounded like. Frankly it was Charlie’s fucking fault for using a hoighty-toighty metaphor like that anyway, the prick.

Embarrassment aside, it was somewhat funny to watch Charlie fluster. Nick knew Charlie was gay since Imogen had spilled, and apparently it wasn’t something Charlie kept secret. But Charlie probably didn’t know he knew that. And of course Charlie didn’t know Nick was bisexual and could theoretically — but certainly never realistically, not in any universe — be attracted to him.

Nick had heard of light bulb moments, but he’d never actually experienced one before. It was all he could do to stop himself from doing that creepy slow grin thing the Grinch did in the cartoon Christmas special. 

He had the upper hand, information he could use against Charlie in their never-ending little tug-of-war. Not enough to end the spat then and there, no. But if Nick could weaponize this — Charlie’s obvious physical attraction to him — acting with surgical force at just the right moment. Well, he could probably manipulate Charlie enough to get some of what he wanted out of this arrangement.

While Nick was having his evil revelation, Charlie apparently recovered enough to plow forward with describing his stupid PR plan.

“You just need some… you know, media training. But also, like. Interpersonal training.”

Nick was lost. “Interpersonal training?”

“You need to stop being a dick all the time, okay?” Charlie retorted.

“Are you shipping me off to finishing school? Learn which bloody fork to use with each fucking course, how to curtsey and do needlepoint?”

Charlie huffed. “One, that’s kind of sexist.” Damn, he had Nick there. “Two,” Charlie continued, “I don’t need you to be dainty. I just need you to not cheese off absolutely everyone you meet. Except apparently Imogen and her boyfriend. Still not sure how they got immunity.”

Nick stewed a bit, but it was hard to deny Charlie was wrong about, you know, basically nobody liking him. “All right, ‘etiquette’ lessons, fine. What’s the second track?”

“The second track is some positive press. Do a little charitable work, attend some fundraisers, raise awareness of issues.”

Nick nodded. He was actually kind of impressed. All the big rugby stars were patrons to charities. It made sense to start building that image now. 

But what was Charlie’s game? Why did he put so much effort in, when just that morning he’d called him a “Hulking Garbage Troll” in front of the entire cafe? It was confusing, which made Nick suspicious and frustrated.

“This really sounds like a good plan. You must have gone to a lot of trouble.”

Shit. He didn’t mean to sound so… soft.

Charlie’s eyebrows scrunched together as he opened up his notebook and picked up a pen. Nick noticed he pinked up slightly. Jesus, one little (totally inadvertent) compliment had that prick blushing? Oh ho, this was almost too easy. Messing around with him was clearly going to be a real pleasure.

Messing with him. Not around with him. What the fuck, Nick’s brain? You can only just barely stand being around Charlie Spring. 

Before Nick could speak again, the door to the conference room swung open. A man who appeared to be about Nick’s age stepped through, dressed in a well-cut suit. He was tall and lanky without being scrawny, like Charlie. His chestnut hair was parted like Nick’s but on the other side of his head, but unlike Nick’s it swooped over his forehead. He was handsome, and looked around for a moment before locking eyes on Nick and flashing a dazzling white smile.

“Nick Nelson!” he exclaimed, jutting out a hand. Nick stood, meeting his reach and finding himself on the receiving end of an unnecessarily tight and enthusiastic handshake that he couldn’t wait to end.

“Ben Hope, CEO of Hope Public Relations,” the man said. Ah, the big boss, then. 

“I wanted to say welcome and thank you for bringing your business to us. We’re going to do everything we can to serve you. Isn’t that right, Charlie?” Ben asked, keeping his gaze fixed on Nick. 

“Yes,” Charlie said quietly. Nick realized in his periphery that Charlie had stood from his seat as well.

“Are you all set, then? Anything you need?” Ben asked, cool as a cucumber.

“No,” Nick replied. “Charlie was just going over his action plan.”

“Ahhh, well you’re in great hands with Charlie here,” Ben said, sparing a glance at the raven-haired man. “Charlie’s one of my best. But just in case, here’s my card with my cell phone on it — call that if you’re ever unhappy, okay, Nick?”

Nick accepted the card. “Will do.”

“Lovely.” Ben flashed him another blinding smile before stepping over toward Charlie. Ben spoke to him in a hushed tone, although in the small room it was impossible not to overhear. “All good, then? You’re not mucking it up again?”

Charlie shrunk in on himself. Nick sort of liked seeing that little bastard cowed, brought to heel. But it was also a weird power dynamic between Charlie and Ben. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Something about the divergent ways Ben treated Nick versus Charlie was raising red flags.

“Everything is settled now,” Charlie told Ben meekly.

There was a beat as Ben didn’t react at all, staying perfectly still like a cat watching a mouse. 

“Great!” Ben suddenly replied, clapping Charlie on the back and walking toward the door. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Ben told Nick, who simply nodded in response. Then Ben was gone.

Nick watched the door close softly behind him before turning back around. Charlie had already shuffled over to his binder, which he was flipping through silently.

“So… what’s next?” Nick asked.

“Umm, right,” Charlie said, sitting down and picking up his pen. “Do you already have any charities you support?”

Uhh… Nick was pretty sure he shopped at Oxfam last year. But buying some second-hand clothes probably didn’t count. 

“No, not really.” Nick fought back the tiny bit of shame he felt at that. But then, the second best time to start being a philanthropist was right now.

“Okay,” Charlie replied. “Then tell me about your interests, and maybe we can find something you’re really passionate about.”

“Well, I like rugby,” Nick said.

“Mmhmm, and what about things that aren’t incredibly obvious?” Charlie shot back.

Another tick of irritation flashed across Nick’s face. 

“I like Formula 1.”

“The racing for ultra-rich people in Monaco?”

“It’s not just in Monaco,” Nick retorted. “Formula 1 is cool.”

Charlie just nodded his head and jotted it down. “What else?”

“I like Marvel movies.” Which was true.

Charlie paused for a second before writing it on the page, shaking his head slightly.

“I liked going to Disneyland. Um. Oh, this is weird, I know, but the sound that felt-tips make on paper.”

Charlie grunted and put down the pen.

“Do you like piña coladas and gettin' caught in the rain?” he said sarcastically. “Come on, Nelson, I need things that have some kind of philanthropic bent, not a list of movies and theme parks you like.”

Nick crossed his arms again. Hey, he asked what Nick liked.

Oh, duh.

“Dogs. I like dogs.” 

“Dogs!” Charlie exclaimed. “Animals! Pet shelters! Yes, I can work with that, thank you.”

Nick ignored the little wave of satisfaction that crested over his body at Charlie’s words, leaving goosebumps raised along his forearms and hairs on end on the nape of his neck. Must have been a sudden draft of cold air from the vent, Nick figured. It certainly wasn’t a response to getting that prick’s approval. 

“Do you have a dog?” Charlie asked, looking up from his notebook.

“No. It wouldn’t be fair with the travel and all,” Nick replied. “But my mum has dogs. Nellie, she’s a sweet old border collie. And Henry, he’s a rolly-polly little pug.”

“They sound so cute!” Charlie said as he jotted those details down. “Is your mum local?”

“No, Kent. She’s a nurse.”

“Ah, okay. Any other family? I couldn’t really find anything online and having a more complete picture would help me.”

Nick bristled. His first instinct at those questions was to stand up and walk out of the room. He hated, hated , talking about his family, other than his mum. He’d barely even ever mentioned anything about his dad and brother to Sai and Imogen, and he had opened up to them about pretty much everything. But Charlie didn’t know that. And he didn’t have to talk about it in-depth like this was some therapist’s office. 

He took a deep breath.

“My asshole father fucked off back to France when I was nine years old. Haven’t seen the stingy fucker since. I have one older brother, also an asshole, who works in finance in London. Haven’t talked to him in a few years.”

Charlie’s hand flew across the page as he wrote that down.

“Is being an asshole like a male genetic thing in your family?” he muttered. 

“I don’t know, what about your family?” Nick shot back. I mean, fuck his dad and brother. But also, fuck Charlie.

Charlie actually stopped and looked up rather than brushing off Nick’s retort. 

“My dad’s pretty nice, actually,” he said, looking distant. “Now my mum… but anyway, we’re improving your image, not mine. If you’ll flip to the second tab in that binder there, that’s got an outline of our, uh, etiquette lessons. Let’s review.”

These hours with Charlie Spring were going to pass like molasses, Nick could just feel it.

Notes:

Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful hateship.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick grits his teeth and tries to make it work with Charlie. Even though they're stuck together, both men are determined to be thorns in the other's side.

Nick starts Anger Management 101 with "Professor" Spring. Shocker: He hates it.

Notes:

Thank you to beta reader extraordinaire KitSaidOui.

“Welcome to Anger Management 101.”

Nick was back in the drab conference room at Hope Public Relations — a corporate rainbow of beige walls, a faux wooden table, uncomfortable chairs, a couple of gray filing cabinets and the whiteboard. Even the dry erase markers failed to offer a splash of color to the space because they were all black. Nick sat with a blank notebook in front of him watching Charlie stand in front of the whiteboard on the far wall. He had actually written “Anger Management 101” on the board, as if Nick had some sort of fucking short-term memory problem like Dory from Finding Nemo and was going to suddenly forget why he was in this fluorescent corporate hellhole with a curly-haired twink. 

Even worse, Charlie had written “Professor Spring” under that in smaller letters. Ha fucking ha. 

Even worser — he had a little laser pointer. What a snotty prick.

“The best way to avoid unfortunate public relations incidents is to prevent ending up in a negative mindset in a given situation,” Charlie said, pacing slightly in front of the whiteboard.

Nick continued to watch him, but Charlie didn’t immediately speak again.

“Aren’t you going to take notes?” Charlie eventually asked, pointing his chin at the Consortium-brand exercise book he had provided Nick (and fucking written “Nicholas Nelson ❤️” on the front of like he was a schoolboy). Where did Charlie even get these anyway, Nick was pretty sure they just appeared in school supply closets by magic. Considering how extra Charlie had gone on the notebook, Nick supposed it was a small mercy Charlie had given him a standard-looking clicky pen instead of some Hello Kitty monstrosity. 

“Sure,” Nick said. “As soon as you say something that doesn’t make me want to shout ‘duh durr.’” 

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t otherwise react. 

“Seems like today’s lesson is arriving just in time. Or, perhaps, 15 years too late,” Charlie said. “Either way, let’s dive in.”

Nick pursed his lips and looked away in annoyance.

“There!” Charlie shouted. “There it is! So it begins.”

Nick scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re annoyed. I saw annoyance on your face.”

“I repeat: Duh durr. I’m paying a lot of money to sit here and get lectured by a fake-ass ‘professor.’ What’s that all about anyway? Is this some sort of failed dream for you, academia? So I’m your opportunity to act like you’re an Oxford don?” A steely look flashed over Charlie’s eyes. It was blink-and-you-miss-it — but Nick did not blink. However, he didn’t have time to process the micro-reaction before he thought of an even better angle of attack. “Ohh… wait. Oh my god. Is this like a kink thing? What, you want me to tell you I’ll do anything for a passing grade, professor… anything,” Nick moaned those last words just a little.

“No, no kinks here,” Charlie replied with fake amusement. “Though we should institute a demerit system of some kind.”

“And if I’m bad, what — you spank me?” Nick asked. It was one of his well-timed sexual innuendos. He threw in a smirk that prompted Charlie to turn around in a failed effort to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. 

But it was Nick who was surprised when Charlie responded while rifling through his binder.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Nick’s jaw dropped in awe. Okay, Charlie was a huge dick, but game recognizes game. Nick recovered as Charlie turned back around. Just because he’d landed a blow didn’t mean Nick was going to telegraph that information. 

“My point,” Charlie continued, aiming his dumbass little laser pointer at the board, “was…”

He trailed off while eyeing Nick, clearly waiting for him to read out loud what the little red dot was hovering over.

“Check yourself,” Nick finally muttered, drawing an oversized sarcastic grin from Charlie.

“Very good!” he said patronizingly, sounding like Dora the Explorer. Nick was amazed Charlie didn’t reach out and pat his head like he was a golden retriever. If he ever tried that, Charlie was definitely getting bit. “When we get angry, that anger builds slowly, yeah, until suddenly you’re on the edge of a cliff and it’s all you can do not to throw yourself off.”

Nick held one hand to his chin like he was thinking hard. “Throw you off a cliff, now there’s an idea.”

But Charlie steamrolled right past him. 

“So it’s important to identify those early warning signs that you’re starting to build pressure inside. Like that little flicker of annoyance I saw earlier, when I made that crack about you being 15 years too late for anti-asshole lessons.”

Nick looked away. Well, there was that flare of hatred again. That number really pissed him off and he hated that Charlie had done some admittedly simple math.

Charlie was trying to push Nick’s buttons… and there was the rub. Nick knew it would give Charlie satisfaction if he proved his point by popping off yet again. Without a doubt, Charlie got off on holding that over him, thoroughly basking in his job as Nick's official button pusher.

On the other hand… 

This probably was good advice. Nick wasn’t exactly in denial about his chronic anger issues. And this would be a bigger issue once he moved out of his rookie years. 

Fuck. He was actually going to have to engage with this prick. And learn something.

Nick’s stomach felt weird at the thought. 

“And when I feel one of these ‘early warning signs’... what do I do?”

“Well,” Charlie said, looking slightly surprised to see Nick ask a valid question instead of lance out, “usually it’s best to remove yourself from the situation. Walk away. Go somewhere else until you can cool off.”

“And what if I can’t leave because, you know, hypothetically, I’m stuck in a room with a pompous know-it-all for, oh, say, 53 more minutes?” Nick asked. He drained the acid from his voice, trying to make it sound as light-hearted as possible. He was just trying to get a rise out of Charlie, not lob a grenade. 

He seemed to have struck just the right chord. Charlie tilted his head and was clearly fighting off a grin.

“Good question. Hypothetically,” he said. “One technique is called ‘cognitive restructuring.’” Charlie aimed the red laser to the part of the board with those words already written on it. “That’s when we take our negative thoughts and stop them from running away into unrealistic scenarios. So, say you push past a bunch of customers at a cafe to order some coffee and the barista won’t serve you. How would you react in that situation?”

Nick rolled his eyes.

“I’d worry about the lack of caffeine.”

Charlie just stared at him, eyes clearly demanding Nick elaborate.

“And how I was dragging. And I was late for a photoshoot, and didn’t want to take photos where I look like shit and that get splashed all over the Jumbotron during games. That scouts would see, that the internet would see. That would tank my career.”

Charlie’s eyes squinted a bit and he frowned slightly as Nick spoke. It seemed he hadn’t quite grasped the depth of Nick’s anxiety.

“Wow. Okay,” Charlie finally said, thinking hard. “So you can see how a queue at the cafe — an irritating yet a perfectly normal part of life — spiraled in your mind into a looming threat to your entire career.”

Holy shit. Nick could see that. It actually sounded silly as he was saying in retrospect, in this sterile conference room. It was like that meme of the guy knocking over a tiny domino, and it knocks over larger and larger ones until it can take down a door. Nick realized that maybe he was a little fucked up. He wiped the dumb-struck look from his face. It was a bad idea to let his guard down around Charlie, or anyone, ever. Even when they may have just blown his mind with a trenchant insight.

He finally just nodded to answer Charlie’s question. No need to feed him any more than that.

“Right. Good,” Charlie said. He flipped through his notes. “There are also some relaxation techniques you can use to calm down. Let’s try some focused breathing.” 

About 50 minutes and some weird Lamaze-type exercises later, Nick’s first training session with Charlie was finally finished. He was planning to make a hasty getaway, but before he could pack up his bag and skedaddle, Charlie made a throat-clearing noise, catching Nick’s attention.

“You did well today,” Charlie said. “Nice work.”

Nick raises his eyebrows at the smaller man. “Thanks. That was big of you to admit.” Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it — “Pretty much the only big thing about you, huh?”

Charlie didn’t react. His frosty eyes simply looked Nick up and down, a piercing glare that took in Nick’s whole body.

“You have no fucking idea,” he muttered.

And what, pray tell, was that supposed to fucking mean?

Nick pushed it out of his mind and asked for the loo before he headed out. Charlie pointed him down the hallway. When he’d relieved himself and returned to reception, Charlie was standing there waiting for him.

“Hey Nick, can I buy you some ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” Nick replied, stopping short.

“Yeah. You know, cold stuff, sweet, you lick it.”

“I know what ice cream is, dipshit. Why do you want to buy me some?”

Charlie rolled his eyes hard and placed his hands on his hips frustratedly. 

“Ever heard of positive reinforcement?” he finally said, his voice dripping with exasperation.

“Is this some sort of Pavlov’s dogs thing?” Nick said, starting to walk again toward the exit.

“You’ve heard of Pavlov, I’m impressed,” Charlie said, following him, even though Nick hadn’t actually agreed to get ice cream, which, you know, seemed an awful lot like a dating activity, and he and Charlie Spring absolutely were not dating.

“I thought you read my file,” Nick said as he bounced down the stairs. “I read psychology at Leeds.” 

“Yeah,” Charlie replied. “But I thought that was like media studies or geography — an easy subject you could glide by on so you could focus on rugby.”

“You know, I’m aware I have this amazing and talented body, but there is actually a functioning brain in my skull,” Nick said as he reached the building’s outer door. “See ya next week.”

He pushed against the glass and stepped out into the devil’s butthole. Hot, humid… kind of smelly. The kind of weather that saps all your strength and makes you want to laze about in an oversized white button-down sucking ice while a parrot rests on your shoulder or something. Okay, so Nick has weird ideas sometimes, fuck off. 

He must have made an audible noise of disgust as the swampiness overpowered him — seriously, it hadn’t been this hellish earlier today — because Charlie quickly piped up.

“That ice cream offer still stands.”

Nick hesitated. Eh, fuck it, he might as well get a free cone out of Charlie given the massive checks he was writing the guy. 

“How far?”

Charlie grinned as he donned some sunglasses. 

“Just a couple blocks.” He nodded his head, thankfully in the direction Nick was traveling to get home, and they headed off. “This place is great, they have like a hundred flavors.”

Five minutes later, Charlie’s already low opinion of Nick hit rock bottom.

“Bubblegum? Are you for real? Fucking bubblegum? Are you secretly three five-year-olds in a trenchcoat?” 

Nick scoffed. “It happens to be an interesting flavor. Not that your philistine mind would understand.”

“Oh, I’m the philistine in this scenario?” Charlie retorted. “Bubblegum flavor is a crime! You’re a grown-ass adult and you’re going home tonight with a tongue stained blue because you like an artificial flavor invented for literal toddlers.”

Nick shook his head, his nostrils flaring. 

“Please. Like chocolate and peanut butter ice cream is so sophisticated.”

“It’s a classic!” Charlie protested. “Two flavors, each great on their own. But in combination — perfection.”

Nick watched as Charlie licked a long stripe up the mound of ice cream sitting on top of his cone, the creamy treat melting quickly in the blazing late afternoon heat. He could see the muscles moving in Charlie’s throat as he lathed his tongue over the dessert and then swallowed. He had a touch of sweat on his temple that curled the hair there. Nick watched with lidded eyes as the curl reached saturation and a bead of sweat rolled down Charlie’s cheek and dropped onto his shoulder.

Mother of god. Nick desperately needed to jerk off when he got home if his brain was reduced to being turned on by this git.

He licked his own ice cream, which was softening enough it was threatening to start dripping, and looked away from Charlie and the little table they sat at outside the ice cream parlor, surveying the street and people.

When he finally looked back, Charlie was observing him cautiously.

Nick sighed heavily but avoided rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Well, I was just wondering… if you studied psychology, how come you don’t know all this anger management stuff already?” Charlie said in between licks.

Nick just stared at him for a few moments “Dunno. Guess I missed that day in Fuck You class.”

Charlie smiled. Fuck. Nick’s jibe hadn’t landed at all. Something about them getting ice cream together was throwing him off balance.

“So. What did you study at uni? I assume you went.” It was stupid, but Nick’s brain seemed to be fritzing and he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Charlie studied him as he took another lick of his cone.

“Classical studies at Durham,” he said. “Greeks, Romans, that sort of thing.”

“Wow,” Nick replied. “You really are a proper little nerd, aren’t you?”

Charlie didn’t respond, just licked his cone again and looked away.

“How did you end up in PR, then?” 

Charlie continued to avoid his gaze. “As you might imagine, the job market for people who studied the Iliad in uni is pretty small. I was living at home for a while, casting about, funemployed.” Charlie didn’t speak for a beat, and Nick let it sit between them until he spoke again. “My mother didn’t much like me being so aimless. She was harping on me more and more. Saying I should have studied maths so I could actually get work.”

He looked melancholy. It was a weird sight, watching a grown man look melancholy while eating ice cream. Nick nonetheless realized that his earlier barbs about academic Charlie must have landed if he had this kind of baggage from uni.

“Eventually,” Charlie continued, “I was willing to do anything to get out of that house. Ben and I used to — we went to sixth form together. When I saw he had an opening for a junior agent a few hours from Kent, I jumped at the chance. And it turns out… I sort of like PR? I like helping people, thinking through puzzles, planning events. All PR stuff. Weird, right?”

Nick made a noncommittal noise. 

“You know, I’m from Kent,” Nick said, taking another lick of his quickly shrinking ice cream.

“I saw something about that,” Charlie replied. “St. John’s Academy, huh? I went to Truham.”

Nick nodded. He vaguely remembered whipping the Truham rugby squad donned in blue and black without breaking a sweat. 

“So you were a prodigy from the start,” Charlie said.

Nick laughed. “Hardly. I took quite a beating on the pitch my first few years there. It took a lot of hard work and training to get good enough for a uni scholarship, and now to get to the pros. I know I make it look easy, but I actually work quite hard at this.”

“I don’t suppose there’s, like, video of these beatings you used to take?” Charlie said playfully. “You know, for when you say arrogant stuff like that and I want the satisfaction of seeing some burly men pile on top of you.”

Wording, Nick thought.

“So you like burly men on top?” he asked impishly, munching the last bits of his cone.

Charlie suddenly began coughing hard, hacking even. Nick waited a second until it was clear he wasn’t actually choking, then stood and grabbed his bag. 

“See you next time, Spring.”

Nick sauntered off, leaving the dry-heaving Charlie at the little table outside the ice cream parlor. Always leave on a high note.

 

***

 

A couple hours later, Nick wiped his mouth with his forearm, clearing away a few specks of marinara from the pasta Imogen had made them for dinner.

“And he got all up in my grill about bubblegum ice cream. Can you believe that? Why be a prick about a man’s ice cream flavor?” 

Sai and Imogen simply shared a look. Nick could tell they were speed walking some conversation between them and he hated being out of the loop.

“Oi! What are you two saying with your weird psychic mind-meld?” he asked, flicking a finger between the two of them.

“Nothing!” Imogen replied. “It’s just… you spent the whole dinner bitching about Charlie Spring. ‘He’s so rude. He’s so demanding. He talks down to me.’”

“It’s all true!” Nick shot back.

“I’m… sure you believe that,” Sai said diplomatically. “I think we’re just wondering whether you… doth protest too much?”

Nick was confused. The fuck did that mean? His eyes darted back and forth between Sai and Imogen, who had a pitying look on her face.

“Are you — what are you saying?”

Sai tilted his head to the side. “Sweetie. You know what we’re saying.”

Nick dropped his fork on his plate, creating a deafening clatter in the apartment.

“No. Fuck no! No, no, no! I hate him!”

Sai hummed. “Yes… but you hate Harry Greene, too, but you never talk about him outside of work.”

Nick shuddered at the mere implication of a romantic liaison with Harry Greene and his little rat face. He had always wondered what kind of woman would degrade herself enough to make out with Harry, who frankly always looked like he was constipated. 

And he reassured himself that he felt the same way about Charlie Spring.

“You are totally off base. I do not like, and never will like, this little prick,” Nick said. “Hand to my heart, I will never fuck that little bastard Charlie Spring.”

Sai and Imogen both shot him looks that screamed “sure, Jan.”

Chapter 6

Summary:

Nick struggles to get through his first image-improving charity event at an animal shelter.

Notes:

Reminder that I'm just making up how rugby works because I don't know and can't be arsed.

Continued thanks to beta reader KitSaidOui, who gets a shout-out in this chapter.

It was ungodly early when Nick’s alarm went off. 

They were three weeks into the season. While they’d beaten the Blue Hens from Newark-on-Trent, the Blackbirds had fallen to both the Leopards and the Pandas. The f’ing Pandas had beaten them, and their starting lineup was about as agile as the cute but lethargic animal their team was named after. Nick knew scouts were watching his individual skills, but he also knew many were looking for team players, people who valued cohesion and could slot into lineups well.

Nick, like many other players, was putting in overtime at practice and in the gym to step up their game. Of course, rest was an important part of the training cycle. It was his one day off this week, and Nick had been looking forward to laying on the couch and watching Formula 1 racing. 

Nick had also successfully curbed the number of times he had to encounter his PR prick, Charlie Spring. Sometimes Nick had legitimate excuses, like game travel. Other times, he just exaggerated the demands of his professional schedule. Either way, he’d only had to endure two more anger management sessions with Charlie in the intervening weeks. Nick was able to amuse himself by surreptitiously torturing Charlie, but he preferred to avoid seeing the curly-haired man at all, if possible.

But of course, when Charlie found out Nick was available on Sunday morning, he had scheduled Nick’s first public event since “the Karen incident.” Why it had to be an early morning affair was beyond Nick’s comprehension. Should he have gone to bed earlier the previous night? Probably, but he and Sai had unwound by playing that video game where you’re a cat in a robot world and it was just too good to put down. 

So he was paying the price with an early morning wake-up. Nick had to be at the Arthur Lange Animal Shelter on Reynolds Street in an hour for a photo op at a dog adoption event. His head hurt a little from the beers he’d been knocking back last night. Nick felt a little dehydrated, so he grabbed the half-drunk bottle of Gatorade on his bedside table and glugged the purple liquid until it was empty.

Nick liked dogs. Or at least, he liked Nellie and Henry, who lived with his mum now. Nellie had been a post-divorce gift, a guilt payment from his father in the brief period he was still involved but not living at home. Nellie was Nick’s faithful companion as he grew up, the only being apart from his mother who Nick knew loved him no matter what. When David berated him for being a sissy who had driven their father away, Nellie was there for Nick. When he slowly morphed into an angry person and fucked up enough times to piss off seemingly everyone who cared about him, Nellie was there for Nick. When his mum put in long hours at the hospital and Nick was left alone for long stretches of time, Nellie was there for Nick. 

Nellie was getting on in years now, of course, but she still danced for joy whenever Nick came ambling through the front door. Nick had gotten used to having Nellie around when he was home for the summer, and he’d have brought her with him in a heartbeat. But the flat had a no-pets policy, and his travel schedule meant she would have spent a lot of (expensive) time in a dog hotel anyway. Nellie was better off in Kent, where his mum at least had a backyard and time for regular walks.

Henry the pug was a newer addition, an adoption once Nick had left for uni because Sarah felt Nellie might get lonely while home alone. Although he didn’t have quite the same bond as with Nellie, Nick had quickly fallen in love with his smooshed little face.

According to Charlie, this history with dogs meant he should consider pet charities for his philanthropic work. Animal shelters were an easy sell to the public and minimized the human element and thus the opportunity for Nick to fuck up with a human. 

Why it had to start at 8 o’clock in the morning, that was a mystery.

Nick relieved himself and considered showering, but decided against it. He pulled on a Blackbirds jersey, as Charlie had directed, and a pair of jeans before trudging out the door. The good news about waking up so early before his call time was that he could swing by Cuppa’s for some caffeine as a treat, assuming whatever coffee may be served at this event would be crap. The walk there was fairly pleasant — it was a Sunday, so the streets were quieter than usual as people slept in or lazed about in bed reading the paper. 

Unfortunately, the Cuppa’s crowd hadn’t gotten the memo. Half a dozen people were queued when Nick arrived. He looked at the clock; he had the time. And obviously cutting the queue wasn’t an option lest Twitter turn him into “Karen 2: The Douchening.” So Nick stood in the back, his eyelids heavy as he sucked in that bitter but welcome coffee shop smell and tried not to curse the yuppies who woke up early on a Sunday to go buy gross java concoctions they saw on TikTok.

He was so focused on keeping his seething in check that he almost missed the whirlwind of a man that passed him on his way out of the shop.

“Nick?”

Guess Charlie Spring was reporting early for “ruining Nick’s day” duty. 

“That’s me, want an autograph?” he groaned. His voice, being used for the first time that day, cracked like frosted stones.

“What the fuck, Nick,” Charlie said, lowering his voice at the tail end as he realized there were people around. “You look like you were hit by a truck.”

“Jesus Christ, tell me how you really feel, Charlie,” Nick muttered.

“Ugh,” Charlie said, grabbing Nick by the hand and pulling him away from the line. Nick startled at the sudden intimacy and yanked his hand out of Charlie’s. “Just… follow me,” Charlie said, glancing back at Nick. 

Charlie led him past the counter to a door marked “Staff Only.” On the other side was a short hallway, which Charlie led him down until they emerged in a small break room of sorts, with little lockers on the wall. Charlie marched over to one and spun the dial on the padlock a few times until it clicked open and he could swing open the door. 

“I don’t have a ton of stuff here, but we have to fix your face and hair,” he muttered, pulling out a zippered pouch.

“What’s wrong with my face and hair?” Nick asked.

“You mean in general or just right now?” Charlie fired back, rifling through the pouch and pulling out several tubes and other items. 

“Very fucking funny,” Nick muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Sit,” Charlie said, jutting his chin out at several chairs around a small table. Nick did, and Charlie pulled up another chair and pulled it directly in front of him so they were face to face.

“Was your plan just to show up with bedhead and huge bags under your eyes?” Charlie said, his eyes darting around Nick’s face and clearly taking in every imperfection. Nick had always been a little bashful about his freckles, which he worried made him look younger than he was. David had always had a clearer complexion and had sometimes teased Nick about the spots across his face (and arms). 

“Sorry we don’t all have time for a pretty princess skin care routine every morning,” Nick griped as Charlie smeared something cold and clammy along the loose skin underneath his eyeballs.

“You think I have a pretty princess skin care routine?” Charlie asked as he rubbed the cream into Nick’s skin. Nick suddenly realised just how intimate this contact was, and blushed. 

Charlie seemed to interpret the reddening as Nick being embarrassed by what he said. “I do actually have a skin care routine… I just do it at night. What do you do?”

Nick shrugged.

“I just splash water on it.”

Charlie leaned back.

“Fuck. Off. That is not your entire skin care routine.”

“I mean, I put on sun cream when it’s sunny out.”

“Only when it’s sunny!? Oh my god,” Charlie gasped. “How is your skin this incredible and all you do is splash water?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Just blessed with good genetics, I guess.”

Charlie nodded. “Ah. So the vanity is the trade off for great skin.”

Nick bit his tongue. De-escalate, de-escalate. He closed his eyes and tried some of the breathing techniques he had learned.

“Oh my god, are you cognitive restructuring?” Charlie asked as he put away the cream and pulled out a comb. He held it out to run through Nick’s hair, but Nick craned his head away at the last second, eyeing Charlie warily.

“Where’s that comb been?”

Charlie looked down at the plastic comb and back up at Nick before realisation lit up his eyes, then promptly crinkled them. He appeared to be simultaneously grossed out and insulted.

“Oh my god,” he said. “What, you think I have lice or something?” 

“Noooo… I don’t know,” Nick responded.

“I — Jesus,” Charlie said, putting both hands on his hips and walking in a small circle. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small mirror. “Here’s how your hair looks. You want to show up to your photo op like that?”

Nick looked at himself in the reflection, and he was forced to agree, it looked like he'd been clubbing all night to Vanessa Carlton head-bangers. A bird could nest in there comfortably and no one would be the wiser. He wasn’t particularly vain, but Nick did like his hair to look presentable.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll risk it.”

Charlie huffed but moved to stand in between Nick’s legs for better access to his hair. It brought Nick awfully close to Charlie, and as he breathed regularly he couldn’t help but sniff some of Charlie’s scent — vanilla and bergamot, with a hint of clean cotton like from laundry detergent. 

The feeling of Charlie playing with his hair was… nice. Nick enjoyed the tactile sensations of getting his hair cut, sort of like a massage, but in between trips to the barber, no hands but his own ever worked the follicles so delicately. 

Nick started feeling little jolts of electricity shoot from his scalp down his neck and along his arms, raising goosebumps. It was only because he had a sensitive scalp, that’s all. Nothing to do with the person touching his head. It just felt… nice to have someone do that, is all.

He suddenly realised what he was thinking and squinched his eyes shut and back open a couple of times.

“So, why were you here?” Nick asked.

Charlie hummed confusedly as he continued to work Nick’s hair into something presentable.

“I came here for caffeine, were you here for coffee too?”

Charlie kept working his hair but didn’t speak for a few seconds.

“Oh… I worked the early shift this morning,” he finally said, his voice quiet and neutral. He was probably just focused on the task at hand, distracted by his work. 

“Cuppa’s only opened an hour ago, and there’s already three people working the counter,” Nick observed. “Strange they’d need you here, too, especially for less than an hour.”

Charlie said nothing, and Nick couldn’t see his face from this angle. He just kept primping Nick’s hair.

“There,” Charlie said, stepping back and reaching for the tiny mirror. 

Nick turned his head back and forth as he looked at his hair. Charlie had parted on Nick’s preferred side and done a good job of giving it enough height without looking too fluffy.

“Thanks,” Nick said, looking up at Charlie. “I didn’t know if you could handle straight hair.”

Charlie popped the mirror and comb back in his little bag and stuck it in his backpack.

“I can handle hair of any orientation,” he quipped. 

Nick swallowed hard as his throat got a lump but didn’t otherwise react.

“Come on,” Charlie said, “I’ll get us some coffee to go, we have time.”

Five minutes later, they were on the street, cups in hand and walking in the direction of the animal shelter. Charlie didn’t make him wait in line this time, although he wasn’t technically working when he made their drinks so the whole operation was strictly off the books.

“I can’t believe you have to work in a cafe when you have a full-time professional job,” Nick said as they walked.

Charlie didn’t talk, just sipped his drink carefully as they walked.

The silent treatment. Fine. Nick could play that well. There were still members of the team he had never actually talked to.

He and Charlie walked another eight blocks or so until they arrived at the shelter. A news truck was parked right out front, with a cameraman sitting in the back putting together his gear. A woman dressed in a business suit spotted him and ran over.

“Mr. Nelson, hello,” she said, vigorously shaking his hand. “Borella Maguire, WKSO Action News, here to film this great adoption event you’re promoting. How are you?”

“Morning…. Borella,” Nick said, wondering what kind of name that was.

“So tell me, do you have any response to all the social media posts calling you the rugby princess—”

“Actually, Borella,” Charlie cut in. “Hi, Charlie Spring, Mr. Nelson’s press representative. He’s just here today to talk about the wonderful work the Arthur Lange Animal Shelter is doing here. Did you know they place over one thousand dogs in good homes every year? And I think some hamsters, too. Okay, see you in there.”

Charlie placed one hand lightly on the small of Nick’s back, guiding him away from the reporter and into the shelter. Nick was kind of miffed at being handled like a child, but he also didn’t want to talk about the social media shit with that nosy reporter, so he let Charlie treat him like a rag doll. He quickly got Nick situated in the shelter’s office, a poor man’s green room while Charlie made sure the event was set up right and went over the program one more time with the shelter workers. 

Nick was cooling his heels and looking at a wall of pictures of animals that had been adopted in the past month when one of the shelter people approached him. 

“Nick Nelson, oh my god! So cool to have you here!” said the man, who appeared to be in his mid-30s.

He sucked in a breath and stood to shake the man’s hand, transitioning into public figure mode.

“Nice to meet you, I’m so happy to be here and support your fine work.” Right from Charlie’s script. Nick was rankled that Charlie had made him memorise shit like this, like he was performing Shakespeare in a school play. He begrudgingly admitted to himself it also meant he could coast through this kind of conversation, which he was sure to repeat two or three dozen times today.

“I’m so excited for the new season!” the man exclaimed.

“That’s great to hear…” Nick trailed off, clearly seeking the man’s name. 

“Karl.”

“Karl,” Nick repeated.

“Hey man, have you been working on your reverse pass?”

This… was not part of Charlie’s script. Was this guy criticising his offloads? Jesus Christ, everyone’s a fucking critic. And with this dude’s paunch, Nick’s guessing he isn’t exactly the king of reverses passes himself.

“Uhh…” he uttered, unsure what the hell to say in response to something like this.

“Well you know, Harry Greene is great at reverse passes, maybe he could give you some pointers,” Karl said. “Anyway, great to have you here!”

He sauntered off, but Nick’s internal steaming didn’t abate as Karl got farther away. Nick — whose right eye was still twitching at the mention of twatbag Harry Greene — needed to employ some moderated breathing, but he also didn’t want to huff and puff in an area people were coming in and out of. He looked about and saw a door marked “Supplies.” The little closet was as good a place as any to practice Lamaze or whatever the fuck Charlie had taught him.

He had hardly gotten started when the door was yanked open and he found Charlie on the other side giving him a strange look. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Breathing exercises! The ones you taught me!” 

Charlie ran one hand down his face, starting at his forehead and pulling the skin behind him as his palm moved over his eyes, nose and mouth.

“We’ve been in an animal shelter for all of five minutes and you’re already cooking? Oh god help us both,” Charlie moaned as he stepped into Nick’s space, pushing him further into the tiny closet.

“What the—”

“Okay, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Charlie interrupted, pointedly ignoring Nick’s annoyed face. “You’re going to get a tour of the facility from manager Mildred Altritcham. I need you to look interested and engaged in what she’s saying, even if it’s boring as shit, because the WKSO camera is going to be on you filming b-roll. If you can, ask some questions, and try to look dynamic.”

Nick squinted. “Look dynamic, what the fuck does that mean?”

“It means do shit with your arms, Nick! You know point at stuff, use sweeping gestures. You’re going to be on camera and the more you’re moving around the better it looks on the news.”

“Got it, point with my fingers more than an ABBA cover band,” Nick retorted.

“Don’t besmirch their fine name by comparing yourself to one of the greatest musical acts of all time,” Charlie said, reading ahead in his notes. “Okay, after the tour, you and Mildred” — Nick wondered what kind of matronly OAP with a name like that ran this place — “will do the presentation in the big yard out back. There will be a few reporters there, plus a bunch of dogs running around. Feel free to pet them.” Charlie stopped and looked up at Nick. “Do you know how to approach a dog?”

“Should I hold my hands in a menacing fashion and growl at it?” Nick asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie stared at him for a few seconds, stone-faced. “Yup!” he suddenly replied, moving on. Once again Nick failed to land a blow.

“Okay and then after that they’re just getting some more b-roll of you playing with the dogs… or possibly getting bitten by them, really either way is fine with me and will play great on the news,” Charlie said. 

“And when the reporters ask about my, you know, Karen moment?” Nick asked.

Charlie shook his head.

“They shouldn’t. You’re not going to be interviewed directly by any reporters, this is entirely a photo op. If they try to question you, just turn it back to the dog adoptions. Any questions?”

Nick shook his head no.

“Great, let’s go meet Mildred.” Charlie opened the door and stepped out, with Nick following him back into the shelter’s main office.

“Mildred, this is Nick Nelson, Nick, this is Mildred Altritcham.”

Mildred was not the grey-haired crone Nick had pictured hearing the name. Instead, she was a comely woman, perhaps late 20s with curly raven hair that spilled down past her shoulders. 

“Please, call me Milly,” she said, shaking Nick’s hand. She was gorgeous, and definitely the kind of woman Nick would date if he were dating, which he was not. But Nick immediately saw an opportunity — to needle Charlie. 

“Milly, lovely to meet you,” Nick said, dropping as much honey and butter into his voice as he could. “Thank you so much for having me here, I’m a huge admirer of you… and your work here.” Ha. That voice could melt an ice sculpture. Nick sort of regretted that he was using this nice woman as a pawn, but hey — hate the game, not the player. 

“I’m just going to check if the film crew is ready, and then we can begin our tour, yeah?” Milly said with a smile as she stepped away.

“Hurry back!” Nick called after her melodically.

When she was out of earshot, Nick leaned over and muttered to Charlie. “Isn’t she gorgeous? Absolutely stunning woman.”

Charlie looked up from his binder and flicked his eyes after Milly. “I suppose so,” he said noncommittally. 

“I’m kind of thinking about asking her out,” Nick said. He had no such intentions, of course. “What do you think, should I go for it?”

“Hundred percent,” Charlie replied. There was something in his blue eyes, some glint, but Nick couldn’t place it. Did Charlie know he was fucking with him?

“Oh — unless you were going to?” Nick asked, pouring every ounce of acting talent he had into selling that as his true belief.

Charlie shook his head. “No, no. I don’t think I’m her type, really.”

Nick cocked his head nonchalantly. “Good thing I’m everyone’s type.”

Charlie hummed. Okay, he was a cool customer right now, but if Nick ramped up the flirting, maybe that would get a rise out of Charlie. It was at the very least off-mission, which should be a professional annoyance for Charlie, and if Nick was lucky he could determine if Charlie was attracted to him.

Milly popped her head back in the office.

“This way, Nick!” 

Nick turned on the charm, full force, for the tour with Milly, and by god was it exhausting. Laughing at every joke, shooting her little looks, asking serious questions so she could play up the shelter in front of the cameras. Nick could do it, but it left him feeling wrung out, being so extroverted and personable.

The problem was, it didn’t seem to have the intended effect on Charlie. In fact, the little shit looked even more gleeful. Maybe he was just excited that Nick was acing this whole philanthropy thing. But Nick had hoped to make Charlie jealous, and standing behind the camera crew he showed zero sign of such emotions. Fuck.

After a while they headed to the yard, where a couple dozen very cute dogs were running around sniffing plants and people and each others’ butts. There were some tables set up for members of the public who would come by later in the day to hopefully adopt a dog, but for now he and Milly went and stood by a balloon arch behind a banner for the Arthur Lange Animal Shelter.

Milly did most of the talking, so Nick didn’t have to remember many details. When it was his turn to speak, he described Nellie and Henry and said how much he loved dogs, which had the benefit of being true.

The harder part was what came next.

Nick turned to the cameras. “So come on down to the Lange Animal Shelter and find your new family member. Tell them the Blackbirds’ Nick Nelson sent you and get the deworming fee waived!” 

Christ. He felt like a cheap used car salesman. Of course it was for a good cause, but heaven almighty this sucked beyond belief. His name didn’t even get the entire adoption fee waived? Just the deworming fee? Christ.

The literal-dog-and-metaphorical-pony show was finally over, and Nick could get down to a little playtime photo op. He walked around the yard a bit, trailed by the cameras, until a couple of dogs swirled around his feet. Nick knelt down, holding out his fist gently for the dogs to sniff before he opened his palm and patted them gently.

Gold. Fucking gold.

He played with a few dogs for about five minutes before he figured that was enough. Nick stood, dusted himself off and quickly found a camera shoved in his face, throwing him off balance.

“Borella Maguire, WKSO Action News,” the woman said, pushing a microphone right up to his mouth. Nick felt some embers glow to life inside his gut. Fuck. There goes Charlie’s promise he wouldn’t have to talk directly to any reporters. He glanced over at Charlie, who looked annoyed but wasn’t jumping in to stop things. This persistent reporter better stick to dogs.

“Rugby Prince Nick Nelson… do you have a dog?”

Phew. “Do I have a dog?” Nick replied. “I do not, not right now. I travel a lot with the team, so it wouldn’t be fair to a dog. But one day when I’m able to care for a dog I’d like to have a couple, actually.”

“The new season has gotten off to a rough start, with two losses out of three games so far. Do you think the Blackbirds can turn things around and go all the way this year?”

Fuck no, not without cloning me a few times , was Nick’s first thought, but instead he rattled off a version of the standard answer supplied to the team by their in-house PR people. That one he knew by heart.

Borella nodded when he finished, and just as Nick was about to walk away is when she pounced.

“Nick, tell us what it’s like being cancelled.”

The urge to roll his eyes was exceedingly strong, but Nick knew HD footage of him doing that would only become the next memeable gif on Twitter, so he maintained a neutral face. Behind Borella, he could see Charlie’s eyes widen. Time to follow his training.

“I’ve apologised for my actions. And I want to be clear that service workers are hard-working people who deserve our support and our respect,” Nick eked out, practically through gritted teeth.

His voice barely wavered, but underneath Nick was a plume of magma ready to explode. He needed to get out of there, pronto.

“Are you just saying that because you mowed lawns this summer?” Borella asked as he began to step away. “Do you have any comment on the hashtag #rugbyprincess?”

“I… I don’t have anything else…” he mumbled out.

Nick vaguely heard Charlie leaping in front of the reporter and trying to stop the interview as he stumbled off, but the ringing in his ears was already fairly intense. Unfortunately, the door back into the animal shelter was where many of the staff and other journalists who had attended the event had congregated. Nick knew trying to get past them would likely lead to attempts at conversation.

He spun his head around, looking for other exits, and spotted a gate in the tall fence that led along the side street.

It seemed to be the only way out without having to tamp down his fury long enough to get past people, and removing himself from the situation was Charlie’s first advice for avoiding blowing his top. So he made for the gate, swinging it open and yanking it shut behind him.

He could hardly blow his top on the street, so Nick began stalking off in the direction of his flat. Fuck it, he figured he had done the charity work he was there to do, they’d gotten their fake-ass shots of him playing with dogs, everyone could go home happy. Off Nick stomped down the pavement, muttering under his breath the whole way. He pulled out a pair of sunglasses in the hopes of creating some sort of disguise, but it wasn’t hard to miss the burly man with great hair in a Blackbirds jersey, so he banked on it still being early enough on a Sunday no one would TikTok his angry arse. 

Before he even realised it, Nick was standing in front of his own front door. He didn’t even remember walking all the way back here. He hoped he’d at least looked both ways before crossing intersections. “Nick Nelson hit by car” was hardly the headline he was going for.

“That you, darling?” Sai called out from the kitchen when Nick unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“No, it’s Nick,” he replied.

“Yeah, he was talking to you, Nicky,” Imogen said, sticking her head around the corner with a wink.

“Don’t call me that,” Nick said. 

Nick sauntered over to the kitchen, where Sai and Imogen — who had been able to enjoy a lie-in on their Sunday — were frying up some rashers, apparently for a couple of BLTs.

“So you rounded them all up already?” Sai asked, poking the bacon in the pan as it popped and sizzled.

“What?” Nick asked, confused.

“The dogs,” Sai replied.

“Huh?”

Sai stopped and turned to face him, as did Imogen.

“The… dogs you let loose?”

Nick was completely lost. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know? How could you not know?” Imogen squawked, pulling out her phone and tapping it a few times. “Kieran saw it on TikTok and texted the whole team!” 

Nick paled as an icy chill ran through his core. What fresh hell was this? 

Imogen turned her phone toward Nick. It was a TikTok video of himself — apparently taken from the cell phone of someone in the yard — walking out the side gate of the animal shelter. Nick watched as he yanked the gate shut behind him, but it was apparently too hard, and the damn thing bounced off the pole and swung wide open. 

Nick saw himself stomp off in one direction — and moments later, canines began making for the open gate at full tilt. Fuck.

The TikTok played the Baha Men song “Who Let the Dogs Out” over additional footage of dogs running wild on the streets surrounding the shelter. People were chasing after them, trying to catch them, but the dogs saw the whole thing as a game and were darting around happily, avoiding capture. Traffic was brought to a standstill as the dogs zipped in and out of the roads without a care in the world, sometimes with dumbass people running right after them into the street.

Nick saw in the background of one video a tiny, angry figure with dark curly hair holding his phone in front of his face and screaming into it. Uh-oh.

He pulled out his own phone, which he had silenced during the event and had completely forgotten about in his own pocket. The sheer number of text messages was astonishing — teammates, old school acquaintances, various extended family members, all messaging about the video. But Nick navigated to his messages with Charlie, where a dozen or so texts sat followed by a voice message. 

He hit play.

“NICK FUCKING NELSON YOU ABSOLUTE TWATWAFFLE GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE AND HELP CATCH THESE DOGS OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF YOU BLOODY WANKER!”

Notes:

My fellow Americans, “OAP” is British slang for “old age pensioner,” aka retirees.

Added a little Kit-in-Milan easter egg in there, kudos if you caught it.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Nick deals with the aftermath of the animal shelter fiasco — in the press, with the team and, worst of all, with Charlie.

Notes:

Not gonna lie, folks, our boy goes through it in this chapter. But I'm hoping maybe the updated tags will help get through the rough beginning?

By the time Nick had gotten Charlie’s voice message… the one where he threatened to kill him, although Nick didn’t take that literally… it was too late. Nick checked Twitter and the Lange Animal Shelter was already assuring people that it had everything in hand. The local police’s Twitter account said all but one dog had been rounded up and that traffic was back to normal. 

Nick turned off his phone, which was pinging every one or two minutes or so with a new message, and left it on the coffee table before going into his room. Nick closed the door, pulled off his jersey, kicked off his trousers, drew the shades and dove under his duvet. 

Okay, that was a fuck-up.

Nick was mad at Charlie for not better controlling the situation and pissed at the animal shelter for having a dumbass gate straight onto the street, especially one that didn’t latch properly.

And he was mad at himself, for fucking up. Again.

Story of his life.

He lay in bed stewing all day and didn’t re-emerge until dinnertime. When he came out of his room, Sai and Imogen were sitting next to each other on the couch, but split apart, Imogen patting the spot in between them. He sulked over and sat down in the middle — about as close as Nick Nelson would ever come to acknowledging he needed a little support. Sai settled in so his side was pressing against Nick’s, and Imogen placed one hand on Nick’s forearm and squeezed.

“You okay, Nick?” Sai asked gently.

“Not really,” he said, cinching the hoodie he had donned so it showed just his face. 

“Well, the local news just said they were going to cover it after this commercial break,” Imogen said, waving at the TV, which was playing an advertisement for gold investments or some type of obvious scam. 

“K,” was all Nick said. He ignored the concerned looks Sai and Imogen shot one another, which he could see in his peripheral vision. 

After a minute, the news was back, and the anchor threw it over to… 

“Borella Maguire, here at the Arthur Lange Animal Shelter,” said the woman he was quickly coming to think of as his nemesis. “Who let the dogs out? That’s the question everyone is asking after a jailbreak from the shelter released a pack of canines into the wild, halting traffic and causing chaos for over an hour Sunday morning. And WKSO has an exclusive with the person — or rather, prince — responsible.”

Nick pinched his eyes shut. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Blackbirds fly-half Nick Nelson visited the shelter this morning ahead of an adoption event, getting flirty with the manager before he spoke to WKSO exclusively about the recent incident in which he yelled at a barista.”

As she spoke, the screen showed b-roll of Nick’s tour with Milly — spliced to focus on the moments in which, admittedly, Nick was flirting hard with her, all part of his plan to needle Charlie, of course. 

Then it cut to the interview in the yard.

“Nick, do you have anything to say to hard-working people you insulted?”

“What the hell?” Nick yelped. “That’s not what she asked me!” Did this reporter dub in a different fucking question? Nick felt his shame transition into some early-stage rage.

“I’ve apologised for my actions,” Nick said on the screen. Of course, he’d said more about how important respecting service workers was, but that wench apparently spliced out that part of his answer.

“Do you have any comment on the allegations that you worked as a gardener this summer?” Borella said. It appeared to have been filmed after the fact, because the footage cut to Borella, even though she had just one camera with her and it had been trained on Nick the whole time.

“No no no, this is all manipulated or something!” Nick shouted.

The screen cut back to the footage of Nick saying, “I… I don’t have anything else…” He staggered away for a moment, and the film cut off just as it caught a glimpse of a twig with curly hair.

“Oh, that was Charlie!” Imogen exclaimed, smacking Nick’s arm lightly.

The report continued, showing Borella in a shot outside the shelter.

“Just moments later, an employee filming from her phone captured this footage of Nick Nelson leaving the property.”

It cut to the TikTok video, because of course that’s what counts for news these fucking days, and everyone got to see Nick accidentally leave the gate wide open and dogs pouring out. Additional film of the escape shot by Borella’s camera operator played after that.

Imogen slapped her hands over her mouth, and Nick could see out of the corner of his eye that Sai was biting his lower lip worryingly. 

The screen cut back to the anchor in the studio. “Borella, where do things stand now?”

“Well, we know that one man broke his arm after tripping over a schnauzer, and have several other reports of casualties,” Borella said. “Most of the dogs have been recovered, thanks to the efforts of several local Good Samaritans. Sadly, one dog is still missing —” a picture of a sad-looking scrangly rat appeared on screen, Jesus Christ “— Muffin the chihuahua, who has a rare disease called Addison’s and needs her monthly injection of life-saving medicine in just four days. If you spot Muffin, please call the Lange Animal Shelter immediately, the number is on your screen.”

A phone number popped up under the picture of that snaggle-toothed little furball — and as the cherry on top, a ready-made hashtag, #SaveMuffin. 

The anchor spoke again. “Borella, what did Nick Nelson have to say about the chaos he caused?”

“Nothing at all,” Borella said into her microphone. “He disappeared immediately afterward and apparently has been in hiding ever since. You might say it’s a dog-gone shame. For WKSO Action News, I’m Borella Maguire.”

The news shifted back to the studio and Imogen turned the telly off. The three of them sat in awkward silence for a few minutes until Nick reached up and pulled the strings on his hoodie until just his nose was protruding.

“I need to scream,” Nick said, his voice gravelly even through the fabric.

“Babe,” Sai said to Imogen, pulling his hands up to clasp over his ears. Imogen did the same.

“FfffffffffffUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” Nick bellowed as loudly as he could. He could feel the vibrations of his roar across his entire body. “FUCK FUCKING SHIT MOTHERFUCKING BITCH FUCK FUCK FUCK, FUCK MY LIFE, FUCK HIM AND FUCK HER, FUCK FUck fuck!” He was teary eyed, glad that the scrunched up hoodie hid his moist eyes.

Even with their ears covered, Sai and Imogen flinched a bit at his outburst. 

His anger spent, Nick slumped forward like a sack of potatoes. Sai and Imogen both threw their arms around his torso and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry, Nicky,” Imogen cooed quietly against Nick’s quivering back.

“You should report that woman for editing the footage, that’s unethical,” Sai added.

They comforted him quietly for a while, then ordered peanut noodles from Nick’s favourite Thai takeaway and put on his secret guilty pleasure, Doctor Who. Nick sat numbly most of the time, but did at least eat, which relieved Sai and Imogen.

It took him hours to fall asleep that night, even though his head was empty.

 

***

 

The next morning, sunlight blinding him, Nick still felt like shit. Everything in his life had gone downhill ever since… well, ever since he’d encountered Charlie Fucking Spring. If he just hadn’t stopped in that damn cafe, he never would have become a viral Karen, never would have had to hire a PR person, never would have had to sit through humiliating anger management lessons and never would have fucked everything up at the animal shelter.

He and Sai walked to Monday practice together in silence. While waiting at one intersection for the light to change, Sai pulled out his phone, his thumbs dancing across the screen.

“Who are you texting?” Nick asked dully.

“Otis,” Sai replied immediately.

“About me?”

A pause, a brief one, but a pause.

“No, asking him to lay off the sprints today, my shin is killing me.”

The light changed and they started striding across the intersection.

“Thanks for lying, Sai.”

“Anytime, love.”

When they approached the players’ entrance of the stadium, Otis was hanging out front chatting with Christian, who nodded to alert Otis of their arrival.

“All right, boys,” Otis said, giving Nick the laddish grasped-hand-clap-on-the-back hug as a greeting. 

“Yeah, all right,” Sai said, shooting Otis and Christian a bro-y raised-chin greeting.

“Sorry about the dog thing, Nick,” Otis said.

“Yeah,” Nick said weakly.

“That guy who broke his arm okay?”

Nick just shrugged. He hadn’t turned his phone back on yet, frightened of the hellscape that will emerge when he does. He might never turn it back on.

“You know… once you know that everyone is more or less okay… the videos are kind of funny,” said Christian. 

Sai made a tsk sound and Otis gave Christian a quick whack on the arm.

“Wot?” Christian replied, not catching on. “Did you see the one with the little old lady chasing the dog with the huge fucking tail? ‘Here puff! Here puff!’” As he re-enacted it, Christian bent over and ran in a little circle as he made his voice go scratchy like an old person.

Nick was astonished to find himself chuckle a little at Christian’s antics. Noticing that, Otis and Sai snickered as well — which only egged on Christian, who acted even more ridiculous until Nick was smiling a little and rubbing his eyes. 

Christian was a fucking idiot sometimes, but then sometimes he knew exactly what to do. The duality of a weird man.

“Come on, lads, we better get in there,” Otis said. Nick realised that the team captain, an experienced player a few years older than him and frankly with bigger fish to fry, had taken just a little time to check in on Nick in a subtle, non-intrusive way. Nick was grateful once again he’d orchestrated his little coup to stop Harry from becoming captain.

The sliver of peace Nick had felt for the first time in over 24 hours was pretty quickly stomped apart.

The four men entered the locker room, where many other players were in the process of changing into their kit for practice. In front of Nick’s cubby sat a muffin on a paper plate. Covered in grass clippings.

Nick froze, staring at the fucking grass-covered pastry. If it had been anyone else, he might have applauded the creativity, referencing the missing chihuahua and the summer job Nick took because his mum needed more cash.

But it wasn’t happening to someone else. It was happening to Nick. Someone was fucking with Nick. Kicking him when he was down.

“Who the fuck did this?” Otis shouted. The grins and giggles that had been running through the group ceased almost immediately. “Not on my team!” 

“I know who did this,” Nick muttered. He dropped his bag and turned, walking out of the locker room and down the hall to the weight room. He grabbed a 20-pound dumbbell and returned to the locker room, where there was light murmuring and confused glances being shared by the men.

Except Harry. Harry was simply standing and smirking. Of course, he was almost always smirking, but Nick knew this wasn’t his standard smirk. And he planned to wipe it off that bastard’s ugly mug.

“Harry FUCKING GREENE!” Nick yelled, lifting his fist. Harry finally spotted the dumbbell, and the smirk immediately melted into shock and horror. He scooted to the side and quickly zoomed a few feet away, but it became clear that Nick wasn’t going after Harry himself. He was going for his cubby. Where Harry’s expensive phone and Apple watch and other pricey electronics were sitting on the shelf. Nick swung the dumbbell over his hand and dropped it like a sledgehammer on Harry’s belongings. The crunching noise was unbelievably satisfying, as was Harry’s cries as the shelf collapsed, raining debris down onto the floor. Nick bent down and used the dumbbell to make sure every item had been smashed thoroughly.

Finally convinced he had destroyed a few thousand dollars’ worth of Harry’s stuff, Nick stood and faced the blond man, who was being held back by two teammates, his face anguished.

“You’re lucky, Harry,” Nick grunted. He pointed to the gaudy timepiece on Harry’s wrist. Fucker had bragged about the thing enough for Nick to know it cost more than his mum’s whole house. “Lucky that fucking watch they sell to posh idiot fuckwads wasn’t on the shelf, too!”

“You’ll pay for this, Nelson!” Harry shouted.

“Enough!” Otis declared, stepping in between them. He turned first to Harry. “Get the hell out of here, Harry, you’re done for today.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What! You can’t—”

“I fucking can and if you bitch at me again I’ll take you out for the next game!” 

That shut Harry up, though he still steamed like a kettle on blast. He wriggled free of the two men who had been holding him back, turned and stormed out of the locker room. 

Otis turned to face Nick.

“Nick, come with me. Everyone else, gear up, we go in five, understood?”

Sai, Christian and all the other men slowly turned away and resumed their normal business. Sai shot Nick a look that simultaneously telegraphed sympathy and a metaphorical whack on the head with a rolled-up magazine. 

Nick expected Otis to walk him to Singh’s office. But they turned the other way and went back to the weight room.

“Put the dumbbell back,” Otis said, gesturing to the empty slot on the stand.

Nick did. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been gripping the fucking thing until letting go of it took effort and his hand ached painfully after he opened his palm up again. He flexed his fingers a few times until regular blood flow resumed and the throbbing mostly subsided.

“Mate…” Otis said, looking sad. “Harry’s a bastard, it’s true. And what he did wasn’t cool. But what you did… I can’t condone that.”

Nick flushed red, not out of anger, but shame. It had taken all of five minutes to wreck the goodwill Otis had shown him outside the entrance. He simply kept putting his dick in it, every fucking time. He needed to heed Charlie’s lessons, clearly. He hated that Charlie was right. 

“Do what you gotta do,” Nick said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the punishment he deserved and avoiding Otis’ glare.

The captain sighed. “Look. Stay in here today and work out that anger on the punching bag or whatever other equipment helps you dump rage, yeah? I’ll tell Singh that the cubby was damaged when some roughhousing went awry. And I’ll figure out something with Harry. You might have to pay for that stuff you destroyed though.”

Nick just nodded quietly. His anger issues were racking up one hell of a tab.

“Good thing the watch wasn’t there,” Otis said, shooting Nick a tiny smile. “That’s more than you make in a year, rookie.”

Nick huffed, acknowledging Otis' outreach, but he didn’t feel any amusement. 

“I wasn’t going to attack Harry,” Nick said as Otis made for the door. “I… I know I’m a bastard but I wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.”

“That’s good,” Otis said. “That’s good. Now go punch it out, you’re back on the pitch with us tomorrow.”

Otis paused at the door. “And Nick? You’re not a bastard. Maybe you should stop pretending to be one.” Nick didn’t respond as Otis knocked his knuckles on the doorframe a couple times, nodded and walked out. What the fuck did that mean?

Nick spent the afternoon working out his aggressions — mostly on various weight lifting machines, not the punching bag, as it turned out. One thing was for sure, Nick thought as he watched himself in the mirror pump the chest press: He wasn’t sure he could have this incredible physique if he didn’t have demons chasing him.

 

***

 

The next day’s training went by without serious incident. Harry mumbled a forced apology, Nick mumbled a forced apology, they shook hands limply and Otis declared their problems solved. Maintenance still hadn’t gotten around to fixing Harry’s shelf, so it remained a stark visual reminder of the costs of Nick’s anger. But they made it through practice well enough, even though Otis and Singh were clearly conspiring to keep Nick and Harry 25 feet apart at all times.

After cleaning up, Nick headed back to Hope Public Relations for what he was sure would be a humiliating tongue-lashing from the little shit who planned such a stupid event and allowed Nick’s triggers (nosy-ass reporters) to be present. Well, he wasn’t going to sit there and take it. No, Nick was ready to go toe-to-toe with fucking Charlie, anger management be damned.

After the string of texts and the angry voice message that threw around big boy words like “twatwaffle,” Charlie hadn’t communicated with Nick except for one text this morning confirming their meeting time. 

Nick rolled into their conference room braced for an immediate attack, but Charlie was sitting calmly at the table, writing something in his notebook. Nick stood in the doorway for a few moments, but when Charlie didn’t react to his obvious presence, he let the door swing shut and sat down opposite Charlie, waiting.

He sat waiting for well over five minutes. If he thought Charlie was going to goad him into being the first to talk, he had a lesson coming in just how long Nick could last.

Finally, Charlie glanced up at him and back down at his notebook.

“Afternoon,” he said calmly. “How are you?”

Nick eyed Charlie warily. He could hear Admiral Akbar in his brain yelling “It’s a trap!”

“Fine… you?”

“Fine as well,” Charlie replied, putting his pen down and looking up at Nick. “So after public events, I like to do a little assessment, figure out what went right, what could have gone better. You know, learn for next time.”

Nick squinted at Charlie and nodded.

“So, what went right… well, great news to start, the shelter adopted out 34 dogs on Sunday, breaking their record, so that’s a win for the charity, well done.”

Nick knew the other shoe was about to drop. Something to do with the shoe-shaped shadow that completely shaded him.

“And then, in the ‘could do better’ category, um, next time, don’t LET ALL THE FUCKING DOGS ESCAPE, YOU SELF-CENTERED FUCKNUGGET!” Theeeere it was. Charlie’s voice raised steadily as the sentence progressed, and he slowly stood and propped himself up on his hands on table, looming slightly over the still-seated Nick as he yelled out what Nick judged to be a C-plus insult at best. 

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Nick shouted back. “And besides, where the fuck were you? Why did you put me in that horrible position and just abandon me? That gate got left open because of your poor planning!” 

“MY poor planning! MY POOR — Nick, you know where I was when you stormed out of there like a preteen boy whose mom just told him he can’t have the new Call of Duty? I was stopping that reporter from harassing you even more!”

“Oh, speaking of the reporter, what the fuck? That piece she aired was slanderous!” Nick yelled, standing to match Charlie’s position. “What are you doing to fix it?”

Charlie huffed. “We’re lucky that story wasn’t worse, honestly! Christ, you can’t even handle a basic dog event.”

“And you can’t plan a basic dog event!” Nick fired back.

Both men stewed, flushed red with anger. The conference room vibes were pulsing, Nick could barely keep his senses about him. He was on the verge of starting their fight back up again when the door suddenly swung open.

“Hello, hi,” Ben said, sliding into the room as if the hatred in the air wasn’t thicker than American peanut butter. “Just thought I’d pop in and see how the post-mortem is going… Charlie, have you fixed everything?”

“Yes, Ben, I’m on it.” Charlie’s demeanour had shifted to meekness immediately upon Ben entering the room.

“The guy with the arm?”

“Agreed not to sue in exchange for a rugby ball signed by Nick.”

“That guy wants my autograph?” Nick interjected, amazed the man wasn’t more upset.

Ben shot him a smile. “It’ll be worth a lot of money someday, great investment!” He turned back to Charlie. “And that fucking sick dog?”

“They found Muffin and she’s getting her shot today, she’ll be fine,” Charlie said quietly.

Nick sighed internally. He hadn’t heard that yet, and the last thing he wanted was a dead dog on his conscience — both for PR and karmic reasons.

Ben stared Charlie down for a few more seconds before he swung back to Nick, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

“Nick, you have my deepest apologies. Charlie here really screwed the pooch, if you’ll pardon the pun, and it won’t happen again. I’ve made sure of it. One more mistake and he’ll be off your account — and maybe out of a job.” Ben only glanced at Charlie for a second as he spoke that last part, but Nick clearly saw a sinister look flash across Ben’s eyes.

Jesus. A heavy stone of guilt settled in Nick’s gut hearing Ben’s threat against Charlie’s job. Nick came from people who struggled to make ends meet, he knew losing a job would be devastating to someone who still had to sling mochaccinos to pay the bills. He may have disliked Charlie, but fucking with him should be Nick’s thing, not Ben’s. 

“It was actually, uh, my fault,” Nick said, pulling one arm up to rub the back of his neck. “Charlie was doing a good job, I’m the one who fuck — who screwed up. So don’t take anything out on him, Charlie’s doing a good job.”

Ben’s eyes went wide at Nick’s admission of guilt. Charlie also looked flabbergasted, though he pulled himself together when Ben glanced in his direction.

“If… that’s how you feel,” Ben said after processing Nick’s surprise remarks. “But I’ll be keeping a closer tab on your account from now on, don’t you worry.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Nick said.

“Okay. Then I’ll… leave you both to it,” Ben said, backing up to the door and stepping out.

The door swung shut slowly behind him, and Nick and Charlie stood in awkward silence for a bit.

“What the fuck was that?” Charlie suddenly asked, his voice dripping with accusation. “Why did you do that?”

Nick rolled his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of it. “I was doing you a favour, you moron.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” Charlie said firmly. “I can handle myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Nick said, raising his forearms in a gesture of admittance. “Honestly, I was being selfish. If you get fired, I’d have to break in a whole new PR person, and frankly I don’t have the time.”

Charlie walked in a small circle a couple of times, hands perched on his hips and his upper teeth biting his lower lip as he thought hard. He stopped and faced Nick.

“What the hell is this? What are you doing here?” he asked fiercely, waving one arm up and down Nick’s body. 

“What am I — I don’t know what you mean,” Nick said. For once, he wasn’t trying to rile Charlie up, he legitimately wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“You know… this! Fuck!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing his sides of his head with both hands before dropping them again. “You’re incredibly mean and rude to me, except when you’re not, when you say something nice.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Nick said, scoffing. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Charlie questioned incredulously.

Nick fixed his arms across his chest. “It means you treat me like shit, too, Charlie. It’s a two-way street!” 

“Of course I’m guarded around you, you’re a stereotypical homophobic lunkhead rugby lad with shit for brains who would as soon as spit on me as look at me!”

Nick’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t call me homophobic! I’m no such thing! Besides, you’re obviously just jealous of my burgeoning success while you’re still writing names on cups for a living!”

“Success? Please!” Charlie retorted. “You’re good at running around on grass with a ball in your hands but you can’t help but trip over your own dick at least three times a fucking week!”

Nick scoffed, throwing up his hands in disgust.

Charlie continued shouting. “And if you’re not homophobic, what the fuck is with all the flirting? All the fucking innuendo? All the eyeballing? I don’t know what to fucking make of you! Just when I think you’re actually, maybe, possibly... then you go and bat your eyelashes at the animal shelter woman.”

Charlie had been stepping closer and closer into Nick’s personal space as he ranted. By the time he got to his end questions, he practically had Nick shoved up against the wall. Nick could actually feel Charlie’s hot breath billowing across his face as the shorter man hollered at him. 

Nick looked away from Charlie’s lips and up into his eyes. The pupils were wide, inky black almost crowding out his cerulean irises, which… had Nick ever properly noticed those before? Never did cool blue look so red hot.

Charlie finally lifted a finger and pressed it firmly into the center of Nick’s chest.

“I mean seriously, what is your deal?” Charlie said heatedly, pressing his finger hard into Nick’s sternum. “Who are you? What do you fucking want with me?”

Nick’s ears rang with Charlie’s demand. He could barely form coherent thought anymore. His whole world had shrunk down to this enraged but bizarrely sexy guinea pig of a man howling at Nick like he couldn’t turn Charlie into a pretzel in six seconds flat if he so desired.

Oh. That’s the word. Desire.

Nick’s honestly not sure who moved first, or if they somehow synchronised perfectly, but he went from staring at Charlie’s moist lips to kissing them seemingly without transition. This was not gentle kissing. This was face mashing, teeth clacking, tongue-smushing, Grecian wrestling kissing. This was a fight for dominance, like everything between them had been until now, and Nick was not going to fucking fail.

His arms wrapped around behind Charlie, pulling the smaller man flush against Nick’s front. Charlie’s hands roved up and down the sides of Nick’s torso, gripping and releasing his flesh like enormous pinches. 

Was this really fucking happening? Was Nick making out with one of his greatest enemies? This twiggy little fucker who yapped at him like that mangy chihuahua? Who had that gnarly hair Nick had always wanted to run his fingers through? And the sharp features of a deeply underweight twink, a jawline Nick wanted to run his tongue along, a prominent Adam’s apple he wanted to scrape his teeth across? Charlie Fucking Spring?! 

Just then, Charlie managed to get Nick’s lower lip between his teeth and he reared back, the pull against Nick’s gums bringing him a sharp jab of pain that brought him back to the present, and perhaps also sent a jolt of pleasure straight to —

Oh fuck. 

Nick was hard. 

Painfully, undeniably hard. 

When had that even happened? His body was reacting like he was 16 again, when the goal was to get hard and cum with lighting speed to get through furtive, fumbling sexual encounters before a parent interrupted. He’d had quite a hair trigger at first, actually, something the handful of girls he’d had sex with in high school had found rather funny. They’d never leaked it into the rumor mill, thank fuck, but the memory of them giggling at him cumming so quickly often flashed through his mind during sex, even years later. 

Teen Nick had become quite skilled at cunnilingus and fingering to make up for it, and eventually in uni he had gained a lot more control over his body, leading to the sex god he was today.

Of course, today that sex god was whimpering as a man who couldn’t weigh more than eight stone pressed Nick up against the cold wall of a corporate conference room like Nick was a rag doll. Charlie attacked his face, his chest, his stomach.

And then Charlie’s hand was pressed against the lead pipe screaming for release in Nick’s jeans. He stilled at that, their mouths still mashed together but frozen in time. Charlie’s eyes opened, staring into Nick’s own eyes awkwardly given the angle of their heads. At point-blank range, Nick could see the icy blue of his irises were effectively gone, pitch black pupils staring back at him. 

Charlie pulled his face back, releasing Nick’s mouth for the first time in maybe five minutes.

“Charlie, I —”

“Shut up,” Charlie said firmly but calmly. 

The two men breathed heavily now that their mouths were free, sizing one another up. Charlie’s face was coated in saliva, which Nick found kind of gross, and then kind of hot, and he was sure some post-nut clarity would bring him back around to gross again. Charlie’s curls were also completely fucked up. Nick suddenly realised it had been his fingers that did that, that combed through Charlie’s hair, had pulled it a little.

“Do you want this?” Charlie gulped, his chest heaving. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, Nick’s eyes following its wet trail.

“Do you fucking want this?” Charlie replied more forcefully when Nick didn’t immediately respond. Nick snapped his gaze back to Charlie’s eyes and opened his mouth to shout something angrily. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, because just then Charlie manoeuvred his hips to rub his front against Nick’s and — oh. Oh wow. What the fuck was that?

Nick looked down and noticed that Charlie seemed to have stuffed an entire cucumber down his pants — hot house, not Persian.

“Yes,” he groaned, looking back up at Charlie. “I want this.”

“Good,” Charlie said. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Charlie smashed his face back against Nick’s, their tongues immediately returning to their earlier jousting match. Nick felt Charlie’s hands trail down his chest and stomach until his hot palm was smothering Nick’s beclothed cock. After a little rubbing, Charlie’s hand went back up, unfastened the button and yanked the zipper down in a smooth, practised motion. Did Charlie service all his clients this way, Nick wondered.

He had just filed that away in questions to use to taunt Charlie later when the other man’s nimble fingers slid below the elastic of his underwear and wrapped around his engorged, leaking cock. Nick whimpered helplessly at the friction, the blessed pressure. Charlie swiped his palm over the head of Nick’s cock, smearing precum along the skin before he formed a fist and ran it down his dick from head to root. Holy fuck, it had been a long time since a hand other than Nick’s own had touched him, but it was so much better than anything he’d ever experienced before. 

Charlie repeated the motion a couple more times, each pass nearly bringing Nick to tears. Suddenly, Charlie leaned back.

“You’re not going to reciprocate? Really?”

Nick looked down. He could see Charlie’s hand stuffed inside his trousers, but Charlie’s own were still firmly fastened shut. 

“I knew you were a selfish bastard, but I figured you at least knew how to fuck,” Charlie growled.

Nick felt like arguing back, but some tiny voice in the back of his head noted that perhaps the best time to taunt Charlie wasn’t when he had Nick’s twig and berries literally within his grip. 

He went for cheeky, instead.

“Sorry, darling,” he said gently, as if they were lifelong lovers and not two men who hated each other jerking off in a conference room.

Nick’s hands slithered down, unbuttoning and unzipping, not as smoothly as Charlie had done to him, but they got there in the end. Nick raised one eyebrow as laid a palm flat against Charlie’s stomach — his taut, smooth stomach, with that belly button Nick wanted to taste, what the fuck — and slid it smoothly beneath the waistline of his boxers and over the coarse hair he felt there.

“Holy shit!” Nick exclaimed involuntarily as his hand ran the length of Charlie’s cock. And kept running. And running. Nick actually had to start bending over slightly, contracting his torso, in order to finally, fucking finally , reach the leaking head at the end of this fucking rainbow.

Charlie smirked at his involuntary response, which only made Nick mad. He’d fucked up, letting Charlie know he was impressed by his length.

Very impressed.

“Fuck, how big are you, you little shit?” Nick asked, unable to hide his astonishment any more. 

He was certain his own cock was thicker, and he’d never had any complaints about length before, but Charlie undeniably was swinging a bigger bat. He may weigh eight stone, but at least two of them were pure cock, Nick thought. Why was that such a turn-on? Nick’s traitorous penis twitched in Charlie’s grasp.

“Twenty-three centimetres,” Charlie gasped as Nick massaged his cock head. 

Fuck. Nick clocked in at a healthy, perfectly respectable 17 cm. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“Ugh, don’t get all cocky,” Nick said, rolling his eyes.

Charlie smirked. “I mean… I have the right.”

Nick responded by resuming jacking off Charlie with one hand while pulling him back into a kiss with his other. With their focus on providing mutual handjobs, the kissing was less aggressive than before, instead moving firmly into simply “sloppy and gross” territory. 

Nick had never touched a dick besides his own before, but whatever he was doing seemed to be working for Charlie, who was moaning into him with each flick of his wrist. The experience was nearly overwhelming, and Nick didn’t know if it was the hand on his dick or the dick in his hand or the weird fluorescent lights in here or the fact that he fucking loathed this giant dick with a giant dick… but this was the hottest sex of Nick’s life. How the fuck was that possible when there wasn’t even penetration? They hadn’t even taken their pants off! They were still standing up. Why was this so fucking hot?

Nick didn’t have long to contemplate that. 

He was so turned on by the situation, and so pent up from spending so long antagonising Charlie Spring, that he felt the telltale tension building in his groin. He thought about stopping and warning Charlie, but he just couldn’t find the strength to break away. The tension inside him grew until it burst like a water balloon. Nick flooded his own underwear with cum, unloading his burden as he moaned into Charlie’s mouth involuntarily. He knew, as he crested, that this was undoubtedly the best orgasm of his life, and that fact confounded and frustrated him.

As he pulsed, Nick could feel Charlie stiffen against him as well. Their lips parted as their foreheads pressed together, the two men mingling hot, humid breath in the air between them as they rode out their powerful spasms. Nick was amused that Charlie could make such quiet little mewling noises as he came, little gasps of breath that would be impossible to hear if they weren’t just inches apart. It almost made up for some of the dickishness he constantly fired at Nick. 

Charlie’s dick, all 23 goddamn centimetres of it, fuck, pulsed hotly. Nick could feel Charlie ejaculating into his own pants. And thank fuck, or Nick would never hear the end of the bitching about how he’d left Charlie with blue balls. 

His own very lovely cock becoming sensitive and twitching in his pants, Nick slumped back against the wall, his knees weak and his breath shaky.

What in the fuck just happened?

Notes:

Translation for Americans
23 centimetres = 9 inches
17 cm = 6.7 in

And on that note, I'm taking one week off from posting, so the next chapter should run on July 11. But I hope that ending was worth the wait.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Nick deals with the aftermath of his conference room encounter with Charlie, trying to figure out how the hell that happened — and whether he wants it to happen again.

Notes:

Thank you to KitSaidOui, beta reader extraordinaire, both for his trenchant insights into the story but also for squeeing a lot in his notes because it makes me feel good.

All Nick can hear is the piercing buzz of the fluorescent lights and the fluid roar of blood rushing past his eardrums. His brain is used to certain post-orgasmic smells — bed linen, sweat, bodily fluids. But now his olfactory senses are overwhelmed with copy paper and dry erase markers. 

His hand was wrapped around the still-pulsing thing Charlie called a cock and Nick called an American baseball bat. He could feel Charlie’s rapidly cooling spend smeared on his hand and wrist inside his underwear. Charlie’s hand was still stuck inside Nick’s own underwear, where he could also feel congealing cum slathering across his skin and soaking into his boxers. 

Wait. Charlie.

Nick and the PR flack he hated with a passion had just… 

His stomach immediately twisted into a tight knot and he felt like he’d been gut punched.

This was bad. This was so fucking bad. 

Nick hated Charlie Spring. He was an arrogant prick, an uptight bastard, determined to make Nick pay both money and pride if he wanted to better his public image. Their very first meeting had been a clash of matter and antimatter that left Nick annihilated. He rued the day he’d ever set eyes on that man.

And now he’d laid hands on him, leading to the hottest orgasm of his life.

Nick couldn’t process this. And he definitely couldn’t process the realisation that he is apparently a size queen. That was going to take some introspection.

Every second he spent in that room was another second closer to when Charlie would try to speak to him. And Nick had no fucking idea what he was going to say, to any of his possible questions.

So he ran.

Nick yanked his hand unceremoniously out of Charlie’s pants, ignoring the sticky coating on his palm and in between his fingers. Charlie similarly withdrew his own hand from Nick’s pants, leaving him with a deeply uncomfortable viscous feeling down there that he knew wouldn’t go away until he’d had a proper wash. Which wasn’t going to happen in this sterile public relations firm conference room. 

With his clean hand, Nick reached down and pulled his zipper up as best he could, then fumbled for a few seconds to fasten the button. He yanked his shirt down to cover any exposed belly and then grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, careful not to get any cum on anything. 

Charlie watched all of this with hooded eyes, apparently even more cum-dumb than Nick.

“I — um… bye,” Nick spat out before he ripped open the conference room door and sailed out of there.

He vaguely remembered seeing a bathroom sign right off the reception area and made a beeline for that door, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone with his hand looking like Spider-Man had paid him a visit. Opening the door cautiously with his shoulder, Nick was pleased to discover the small restroom was empty. He stepped into the single stall and used a length of loo paper to roughly clean off his hand. Then he balled up a bunch of bog roll and stuck it down his trousers, trying to absorb enough of his spend to let him get back home without triggering some kind of sensory episode — or even worse, starting to emit that unmistakable smell around strangers.

Eventually satisfied with his dry whore’s bath — what he wouldn’t give for a goddamn wet wipe right now — Nick flushed the evidence of his encounter with Charlie and stepped over to the sink, where he washed his hands like he was scrubbing in for an appendectomy. 

Nick opened the loo door slowly, hoping Charlie hadn’t finally wised up and followed him. The coast was clear, so Nick scooted out and through the reception area, which was empty at the moment. Nick floated on autopilot down the stairs and out the door of the building onto Library Ave.

He blinked in the intense late summer sun.

How had his wires gotten so crossed?

Nick loathed Charlie, and he knew the feeling was mutual. Each man delighted in keying the other one up — it had become their sick little game! 

Okay, Nick admitted to himself as he walked, from an objective standpoint Charlie wasn’t bad looking. He admired Charlie’s curls. His eyes, the kind of blue you didn’t normally see outside of the Mediterranean. And he had those little dimples. Plus his fuckable little twink body that Nick definitely hadn’t thought about bending in half and railing like a steam locomotive until he blew his top deep inside —

Nope, not thinking about that here. Nick really can’t afford to get hard again now that he was waiting for the cross-town bus home. 

An hour ago, Nick would have been happy never to have seen Charlie again.

Now… he was trying to reconcile his extreme dislike of the man with the fact that he’d just had some mind-blowing sex in a conference room.

In a fog, Nick somehow boards the bus, gets off at the right stop and walks the six blocks north and four flights up to his apartment. It’s blessedly quiet when he gets in; Sai and Imogen are… somewhere else this evening, Nick can’t remember. Confirming the flat was empty, Nick stood in the middle of the living room and just breathed in the cool, calm air. It was grounding. 

Unfortunately, the first thing he felt after coming back into his body a bit was all the crusty, dried ejaculate in his pelvic region. Deeply unpleasant. He stripped and showered, pointedly not thinking about the reason he’d gotten all crusty in the first place as he scrubbed away with his sandalwood body wash. 

As he dried himself, Nick felt his stomach rumble. He fixed a simple meal of chicken breast, rice, and broccoli. He always ate basic nutritional stuff when Imogen and Sai weren’t around to cook for him. It was still nice enough outside that he sat on the balcony as he ate and watched people on the street a few floors below. 

After cleaning up, Nick stared at the blank TV for a moment before shaking his head, going into his room and starfishing on his bed. 

He wasn’t going to think about it. No.

Well…

It wouldn’t hurt to look at his Instagram, would it? Nick had never bothered to google Charlie in all the time since they’d been thrust together, so a little opposition research wasn’t uncalled for.

He opened Instagram — from his anonymous finsta account of course, Tara managed his official social media pages — and searched for Charlie Spring. He was maybe the twelfth profile down, and thankfully didn’t have a private account. 

Okay, there were a lot of latte photos. Like, too many. Nick got it, Charlie can do the flower design in foam, Jesus Christ. But there were better photos. Several showed him with people Nick assumed were friends, a tall Asian man in a beanie, a tall Black woman, a white guy who always seemed to have a book in his hands. They were always all smiling, which was off-putting to Nick. Obviously, Charlie was going to curate his social media, everyone did, but it was so strange to see him grinning when Charlie basically only ever scowled in real life. This guy is like Jekyll and Hyde, Nick thought to himself.

He scrolled a bit, noting a few other pictures of Pride events and one of Charlie in a suit apparently speaking at some city council meeting or some such.

That’s when Nick saw it.

It stood out on the stream because Charlie was surrounded by a vibrant blue sky. He was clearly wet: his curls were soaked, though still springy, and when Nick pinched the photo to zoom in he could see beads of water all over Charlie’s neck and collarbones and the upper part of his chest. The image cut off before it reached his nipples. One armpit was visible, the folds of his skin hiding most of the dark hairs there. The photo was captioned “Too pool for school” and was dated a couple of months prior, that summer. Charlie was looking into the camera with a neutral expression, his lips pressed together loosely and his eyes…

What the hell?

Nick suddenly realised his other hand was stuffed down his pants, gripping his half-hard cock. When did that happen? What kind of autopilot sorcery was this? 

He ripped his hand out of his pants. With his other hand, Nick locked his phone and dropped it on the bed beside him, staring at the ceiling as his heart beat rapidly.

Fuck.

Okay, maybe it was time to admit, just to himself, that Charlie was attractive. And by attractive, Nick definitely did not mean precisely his type, because how could he have a man type when he’d never been with a man? Check and mate, Nick’s dick.

Nick’s dick, which had only gotten firmer since he let it go! The traitorous little (well… respectably sized) bastard was just reacting to the orgasm memory, likely because it was the first one in about eight months that hadn’t been carried out by Nick’s own hand.

Suddenly, Nick sighed loudly in relief. 

That explained everything. This was purely physical! He was so fucking touch-starved from his self-imposed celibacy that his brain had confused his hatred of Charlie for desire! Nick remembered reading somewhere that love wasn’t the opposite of hate — indifference was. Charlie was fit, Nick felt strongly about him, they were forced to spend time together. It was all slotting into place. He wasn’t crushing on Charlie. Nick just liked getting off!

He actually laughed out loud at the realisation. 

Then he realised that meant it was okay to pleasure himself thinking about Charlie. Just a masturbation aid! Like the pocket pussy and cock ring in his bedside table. 

And if he was basically a masturbation aid…

Nick slid his hands back down his stomach and into his shorts, where his cock had reached full hardness and was leaking. Perfect. He shimmied out of his pants and ripped his t-shirt over his head before picking up his phone again and navigating back to the pool picture. 

He touched himself, fondling the ridges on his head before smearing some of the pre-cum that had gathered there along his shaft. As he worked his cock, Nick stared at the picture of Charlie, focusing on his dewdrop-laden clavicles, his pouty lips, his full-figured eyebrows, and finally his eyes, those blue diamonds staring back at him through beautiful eyelashes. He almost looked like he was about to berate Nick for something, and it was that thought that pushed him over the edge, the phone dropped to his side as his cock pulsed and spend splashed across his abs, pooling in the crevasses between. Nick uttered “Ch — Ch —” a few times, managing to stop himself from shouting Charlie’s name, instead crash landing into a field of grunts and gasps. 

Nick shoved down the guilty feeling pooling in his stomach as he came down from his orgasm. He probably shouldn’t have done that. The post-nut clarity was hitting especially hard now, and the fact that he had whacked off, quickly, to a mere selfie of Charlie Spring was… not good. Sooner or later, Nick was going to have to see Charlie again. It would have been hard enough to operate while ignoring their mutual handjob session. Now he had this shameful secret, too.

The copious amount of spend cooling on his torso — an amazing load considering he’d already shot himself into near-blackout just a few hours earlier — betrayed his emotional quandary. That had been fucking good . Nick knew he could justify it all he wanted, blame it on his long (self-imposed) dry spell. But there was something else there. Something he was going to studiously ignore because he did not have the ability to process that right now.

After cleaning up, he played Animal Crossing in bed for a while until he heard the unmistakable sounds of Sai and Imogen returning home. When that was followed about three minutes later by moaning through the vents, Nick pulled on his noise-cancelling headphones. He did not need to get horned up a third time today, thank you very fucking much.

The next morning, Nick sat staring at the wall as he munched on the scrambled eggs Imogen had made (his French pride prevented Nick from calling the pile of yellow curds — even though it was tasty — an omelette). 

“Watcha thinkin’, Abe Lincoln?” Imogen asked, interrupting his efforts to tamp down that stupid idiot’s face in his mind’s eye. 

“Wot?” Nick asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.

Imogen rolled her eyes affectionately. “You looked like you were a million miles away, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nick said.

“Oh, he had another meeting with the horrible Charlie Spring yesterday,” said Sai, who had already cleaned his plate, his voice lilting in a teasing manner. “Probably just tired from the clash of titans.”

“Oh no,” Imogen cooed. “Did you and Charlie explode at each other?”

Nick’s eyes darted over to her. It was just an expression, he thought.

Still. It was worrying. Word could not get out about this. Nick didn’t even want fucking Charlie to know; he wished he had one of those mind wipe flashers from Men In Black.

“No matter,” Imogen said, standing and collecting the empty plates. “I’ll get Charlie to tell me what happened between you two. We’re on shift together tonight.”

Nick’s eyes really did widen at that, and he was thankful Sai and Imogen were looking away because it was not a particularly subtle reaction. Fuck, he needed to tell Charlie not to tell Imogen or anyone what had happened.

He walked into his bedroom and took his phone off the charger.

Nick Nelson [09:23]: Don’t tell anyone what happened.

Nick knew not to put anything specific into writing. Even though Charlie was employed to improve his image, you never knew what kind of crazy might come out even for a low level of fame like Nick enjoyed. 

He wasn’t sure Charlie would reply, but within seconds the typing bubble appeared.

Charlie Spring [09:24]: not a problem 🙄

Okay, rude . Charlie’s tone came across as annoyed even without the overkill eye-roll emoji. As if Nick didn’t have reason to worry about Charlie bragging to all his friends about the fit rugby star whose pants he’d had his hand down. His hand… Nick could feel it on his shaft, his rapidly — no! He was not gonna do that again. Nick flipped to his side, squeezed his eyes shut and thought about that mangy chihuahua, Muffin, until all his blood had returned to its usual location.

Nick managed to elude further significant thought about Charlie until that afternoon’s practice. As he sat lacing up, he sensed Harry approaching cautiously.

“Nicholas,” the vice captain said neutrally. 

Nick paused tying knots and sat upright, just looking at Harry.

“Just doing a playbook check,” Harry said quietly.

The Blackbirds issued them new playbooks before each match with intel on their upcoming opponent and the plays they’d be deploying. They were specially colour coded and serial numbered so if they somehow got into enemy hands, it could be traceable. And since they were so high-security about it, Singh occasionally made them all show they had theirs with them at practices.

Nick picked up his bag and rifled through it. Street clothes, toiletries, a book to read if he had downtime — all his usual stuff. No playbook.

He rifled through again as Harry stared him down, though he didn’t dare say a word after the thrashing Nick had given his cubby just a few days prior. Nick stood and checked in his cubby just in case, but it wasn’t there, either. Ruh roh. Losing one’s playbook was a $250 penalty — and Nick would look like a tool in front of everyone.

“Must have left it at home, Harry,” Nick finally said, patting his pockets as if to say, look, not in here either.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You know the rules. Have it tomorrow or you’re pinged.”

“Yeah,” Nick muttered.

As Harry toddled off, Nick sat down. He was just adjusting his socks when he suddenly realised where he’d left the playbook.

At Hope Public Affairs. In the conference room. With Charlie Spring. After they’d had sex. Or sort of had sex. Nick still wasn’t sure if mutual handjobs counted as sex. Particularly if their pants never came off. But that’s where he’d left the playbook, of course, in his haste to escape. 

He pulled out his phone.

Nick Nelson [13:05]: Did I leave a goldenrod-coloured book there yesterday?

He stared for a moment, unsure if Charlie would reply in the couple of minutes before he was due on the pitch.

Finally, bubbles.

Charlie Spring [13:07]: if by goldenrod you mean yellow, yeah

Now he’s being a prick about colours. Perfect. Nick was sure if he’d just called it yellow, Charlie would have retorted that it was really goldenrod. What a pedantic ass.

Charlie Spring [13:07]: i’ll return it at our next meeting

Fuck. That wasn’t until next week.

Nick Nelson [13:07]: Need it for tomorrow. Can I come by HPR after practice, around 5?

Charlie Spring [13:08]: no, working an evening shift at Cuppa’s. come get it there?

Cuppa’s. Fuck again! That’s right, Imogen said she’d be working with Charlie tonight. Nick was pretty sure he didn’t want to put him and Charlie under her spotlight glare together; what if Charlie decided to humiliate him in front of Imogen and everyone in the cafe by revealing what they’d done? Sure, Nick could deny it, but he’d be flustered and look like and idiot and there would be questions . True, Charlie could do that without Nick there, but it would be much easier to deny after the fact.

Nick Nelson [13:08]: Can’t meet at Cuppa’s. What about after?

Charlie Spring [13:08]: christ. fine. my place, 9 o’clock?

Nick Nelson [13:09]: Your place? Can’t we meet up somewhere else?

Charlie Spring [13:09]: no. my feet will be killing me by then. i’m going home tonight, if you want your damn book meet me then

Another text followed with his home address. It looked to be about only a 15 minute walk from Nick’s flat. 

Nick Nelson [13:10]: Fine. See you then.

Nick Nelson [13:10]: Thank you.

Charlie Spring [13:10]: holy shit, i’m screenshotting that for posterity. Nick Nelson, capable of gratitude

Nick sighed angrily and plugged his phone in to charge during practice. 

“Girl trouble?” asked Christian as he passed by.

“I wish,” Nick muttered, leaving it vague. “Come on, lads, let’s hit the pitch!”

He left all thought of Charlie behind in the locker room as he and the rest of the team thundered out into sunlight.

That night with Imogen pulling her evening shift, Nick and Sai did the classic bachelor’s night in: Pizza and FIFA. Sai and Nick had each won a match, and were in the last few minutes of the third. It was 0-0 and Nick was desperately fending off Sai’s offensive line when their front door popped open and Imogen emerged forth.

“Hello, boys,” she called out in a sing-song voice. “Sorry I’m later than I said, I got a cocktail with one of the other baristas after — Sansa, if you can believe that, how is anyone our age old enough for a Game of Thrones name?”

Shit. Fuck. What time was it? Nick glanced at his phone as Sai paused the game and got up to kiss Imogen. (Nick ignored that she dipped Sai… why were they like that?) It was bloody 9:15. 

“I’m going out,” Nick said suddenly, diving into his room for a light jacket and baseball cap before beelining for the door.

“Where?” Imogen asked.

“Just a walk,” Nick threw over his shoulder. “And also I’m afraid you two might shag loudly again so…”

“Wait, what about the game?” Sai called out.

Nick swung the door open. “I forfeit,” he replied before shutting it firmly behind him.

The journey to Charlie’s neighbourhood took a little longer than Nick had expected, even with him power-walking most of the way. So it ended up being about 9:30 he found himself knocking on Charlie’s flat door. Hearing no movement, he reared back and checked he had the right unit number before pounding a little harder. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a chain latch falling and the door wrenched open, revealing Charlie Spring, his face half covered in strange creams.

“Of course you’d be super late and arrive without texting in the middle of my skincare routine, it’s not like I’m doing you a goddamn favour or anything,” Charlie grumbled, turning and walking back into his flat. Apparently Nick’s invitation to enter was unspoken. If it was even extended at all. Nevertheless, in he marched.

It wasn’t until he’d stepped inside that his brain processed what Charlie was wearing. It wasn’t a ton: some sort of night shorts and a loose and very comfortable looking tank top. It lay lopsided on his hips, which practically sashayed across the room to a small table piled high with random crap, old cameras and equipment he couldn’t identify.

“Here’s your damn book,” Charlie said, picking up the goldenrod paperback and shoving it at Nick.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, taking it in his hands. “What’s all this?”

Charlie glanced over at all the stuff. “My roommate Tao is a filmmaker. Or wannabe. Anyway, that’s his retro stuff. Apparently Super 8 is the film of the future, despite being from the ‘60s.”

Nick looked around. Two doors likely leading to bedrooms were closed.

“Oh. Is he here?”

Charlie shook his head. “This place is basically long-term storage for him now. He has a girlfriend, Elle. Spends most of his time over at her’s.”

Nick nodded curtly. “I know the type.”

Neither man spoke after that as Nick continued to idly survey Charlie’s flat. 

Charlie cleared his throat after a few seconds. “So. Um. About yesterday.”

Nick turned his head just enough to see Charlie in his peripheral vision. He didn’t speak.

“Are you okay after. Um. You know.” Charlie said. It was more of a statement than a question.

No, Nick was not fucking okay. Somehow he’d ended up having sex (or something) with the complete prick he wanted to jettison from his life the moment he could. Of course, it wasn’t as bad as having sex with Harry… Nick shuddered just at the thought crossing his mind. But still… he hated Charlie Spring. And Charlie hated him. So why had he jacked off the guy, then masturbated to his picture later, then on three separate occasion in the 24 hours since then had to fight off Charlie-inspired chubs? What the hell was going on?

Of course, none of that was easy to articulate, nor did Nick really want to tell Charlie all about his insecurities. But apparently the slender man had mistaken his hesitation for something else.

“You know it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Charlie blurted out. “If you… feel something for me and that’s scaring you, it doesn’t mean you’re different. And you don’t have to put a label on it or anything.”

Nick scrunched up his face in disbelief.

“I’m bi, actually,” Nick said, crossing his arms angrily over his chest, which he was definitely flexing in self-defence and not for any other reason. “And so what? Known it for years.”

Charlie’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Oh, I… that’s great. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Nick studied his face.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “You thought you turned me!”

Charlie sputtered. “I didn’t — no, I wasn’t — that’s not —”

“Someone’s got a pretty conceited opinion of himself,” Nick drawled, taking in Charlie from head to toe as he spoke.

“Jesus Christ,” Charlie growled. “I did not say I ‘turned’ you! It’s not like that’s even how it works, you arrogant pinhead!” 

Nick steamed, stepping closer to get in Charlie’s face. “Arrogant? You’re the one who apparently thinks he has the Midas touch for dicks!”

Charlie also stepped forward, practically toe to toe with Nick. He tilted his neck up slightly to look into Nick’s face, telegraphing his rage even with those ridiculous “skincare routine” creams on his cheeks and forehead. Nick had done just fine with soap and water, thank you very much.

“Funny,” Charlie muttered. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with my ‘Midas touch’ when I was touching your… scrum-half, is it?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m a fly-half, you nincompoop.”

“Nincompoop?” Charlie said, astonished. “Nice insult, grandpa. Explains why you couldn’t remember your precious yellow book —”

“It’s goldenrod!” Nick interrupted.

“It’s yellow, you twatwaffle!”

“Goldenrod is a shade of yellow, dumbass!” 

“Just say yellow! Why are you so fucking pedantic!”

“That’s a pretty big word for such a small guy,” Nick shot back, his breath heavy at their voracious interplay.

“I think you know I’m not a small guy,” Charlie said saucily with a smirk that vexed Nicholas Nelson like no other.

“I hate you so much,” Nick growled down at Charlie.

“The feeling is absolutely mutual,” Charlie hissed back.

And just like that, somehow they were pressed up against one another, chests heaving, eyes blown dark, their humid breath intermingling like a hot and a cold front brewing up a thunderstorm. Nick’s joggers did nothing to hide the bulge growing there. Charlie’s shorts did even less — in fact, his swelling cockhead was now peaking out the bottom hemline, already beyond the containment capabilities of the sheer fabric. 

They locked eyes, each man searching the other’s, seeking and giving permission.

They both wanted this. Even if they hated each other.

“Fuck it,” Charlie said at the same time as Nick simply uttered a frustrated groan.

They surged forward, two stubborn waves crashing against one another. Nick and Charlie battled for dominance with their mouths as each manhandled the other — or tried to anyway. The zest with which they pressed their lips together prevented them from really getting a good grip on the other; it was all they could do to hold on and stand upright. Nick was vaguely aware that Charlie’s silly creams or whatever were smearing all over his own face, but he really couldn’t care less at the moment.

Eventually, Charlie managed to get his hand on the short hairs along the nape of Nick’s neck, giving him a semblance of control over his head. His other hand barreled forward to palm Nick’s hard cock through his joggers.

Charlie gripped Nick’s neck hair, yanking his head back enough to separate them.

“You gonna show me what this thing can do or what?” he asked, voice gravelly yet commanding.

Nick hesitated barely a second before he leaned forward. The surprise move was enough to startle Charlie into letting go of him, allowing Nick to grab him at the waist and throw him over his shoulder. He turned and marched toward the closed bedroom door.

“Other door, idiot, other door!” Charlie shouted when he realised Nick was apparently headed for this Tao person’s bedroom.

Nick changed course, chuckling as Charlie pounded his back with both fists and yelped. As if that hurt him when he’d walked away from the tackle by that 16-stone behemoth from the Puffins the other week.

He threw open the door to Charlie’s bedroom. Sad. It was kind of cramped, just room for a single bed, a tiny desk and chair and a dresser. It was worse than most uni accommodations, Nick thought as he stepped over a pile of clothes — dirty or clean, only Charlie could know — and tossed the smaller man onto his bed, which thankfully looked fairly sturdy. 

Charlie shouted as he bounced on the mattress where Nick had deposited him unceremoniously, his shorts leaving only parts of his nether regions to Nick’s imagination. “Oy, watch it! We don’t all make the big bucks and can afford to trash beds or whatever it is you do.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I do not make ‘the big bucks,’” he shot back. Charlie looked like he was about to retort, but Nick cut him off at the pass by grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head with one hand in a graceful move. He noted with pleasure just how Charlie’s jaw dropped — literally dropped, at least halfway, not bad — at the sight of Nick’s abdominals, his ample chest, his thick arms. Probably his armpits, too, Nick had learned some people were kind of freaks about those. 

Sure, he was flexing a little. Muscle wasn’t hard unless it was being flexed.

“Okay,” Charlie said, smacking his lips together. “Those are some nice tits, I’ll give you that.”

Nick motioned with his mouth as if to say, “oh, these old things?” He looked down at his chest, where he started bouncing one side and then the other. “Takes a lot of push-ups to look like this.”

Charlie bit his lower lip. “You, uh… don’t skip leg day, do you, Nicholas?”

Patently transparent. But Nick would give Charlie what he wanted.

“Only one way to find out,” Nick replied, sticking both thumbs into his waistband and pushing down. He shucked off his joggers and briefs, his cock snapping up and hitting his stomach with a wet twang as it escaped its cloth prison. He bent over to push the clothing to his feet before stepping out and righting himself, giving Charlie his first full look.

And did Charlie look. His eyes drank their fill, running up and down Nick’s toned, athletic body.

“Maybe you’d like to take something off, your lordship,” Nick taunted, waving his hand over Charlie’s scantily clad — but definitely still clad — form. 

“So fucking annoying,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes as he pulled his tank top off and tossed it aside. Nick had to stop himself from gulping. If the pool selfie had been hot, getting Charlie’s full torso naked was absolutely steaming. He definitely wasn’t a toned athlete. But he wasn’t completely tragic, either. Nick very much wanted to lick every inch of that supple olive skin, nibbling when he found a sensitive spot, leaving a few love bites —

Slow your roll, Nicholas, he thought to himself. 

He needed some kind of retort. Nick wasn't sure how long he’d been staring. Could have been seconds. Could have been hours. “So shut me up,” he finally said, his tone a reasonable approximation of a challenge.

Charlie rolled onto his back and wiggled his shorts off, letting his absolutely stunning cock fly free, finally. Nick honestly wasn’t sure how Charlie walked around when clearly about 17 percent of his body weight was stored in his dick.

Nick was hit by a sudden flash, a yearning within him to insert that monstrous sausage up his arse. Well. That was new and unexpected. Thought not wholly unappreciated. 

He shook off the feeling; Nick has never done anything back there, and taking a cock like that would require some preparation that he didn’t have the patience for tonight. Besides, he didn’t really want to give Charlie that satisfaction. Nick hated that he was still equating topping with power and bottoming with submission. He knew that’s not how it worked, or at least shouldn’t, in a better world. He wasn’t going to fix his internal homophobia in one night, but he could at least fuck Charlie Spring into shutting up.

“Knees,” Nick barked.

Charlie, the little turd, raised one eyebrow before rolling over and perching on his knees. Yes, he was going to comply, but he made it clear it was only because he wanted to, not because Nick had ordered it. Was it going to be a clash every step of the way? This was going to be some exhausting sex, at least psychologically, Nick thought.

“Lube?” he asked, already heading for the little drawer in the bedside table, because where else would it be. He grabbed the bottle and a condom — Nick was sort of surprised to see a half-used regular box of Durex, he would have thought Charlie would need some special extra-large brand — and clambered onto the bed behind Charlie, steadying himself on his narrow hips. 

Nick had to admit, Charlie had a pretty hole. Pink, tight, just a little hair, perfection. Nick’s cock twisted when he realised it was oscillating slightly, clenching and unclenching. Like Charlie was gagging for it. Fucking amazing.

The snick of the lube cap being opened was followed by an unsexy squirting noise. Nick very nearly slathered it onto Charlie’s hole before he realised at the last second it would be cold. He’d watched plenty of gay porn in his life, but they usually streamlined or more often just skipped over entirely the preparation, so he was somewhat guessing about what to do. 

Nick rubbed the liquid between his fingers for a few seconds before approaching Charlie’s entrance. His hesitation was all Charlie needed to complain.

“You still back there?” he called out, his head leaning against a pillow. “Hellooooooo, Earth to Nick?”

“Jesus Christ, so needy,” Nick fired back. “Next time I’ll just shove cold lube up your arse.”

He pressed the pads of his index and middle fingers to Charlie’s rim and massaged gently. Nick was pleased as the movement elicited little gasps from the other man. He pushed one finger forward, encountering more resistance than he was expecting before he felt Charlie concentrate and relax his muscles, allowing him entrance. 

This felt different from Nick’s prior experienced finger-banging women. Charlie felt so much more responsive — just having his finger in up to the first muscle had the lithe man’s entire body shivering and his rim contracting deliciously around Nick’s finger. Everything seemed okay, so Nick continued forward, watching with a slacked jaw as his finger disappeared into Charlie, until finally it was buried completely. 

Something in the very back of Nick’s mind chose that deeply inopportune moment to voice an objection. This was a bad idea, it said. Bad idea.

Fuck off, Nick thought, stomping down that little voice and locking it in the muted recesses of his mind. Raging testosterone and the fact that all of his available blood was currently making his cock throb between his legs won the day. Consequences be damned.

“Another,” Charlie huffed, slapping one hand on the mattress for emphasis.

Who was Nick to argue?

He pulled back and then intertwined his middle finger, pushing forward again. This time there was significantly more resistance, and he could feel Charlie around his fingers trying to relax. Nick knew he needed to stretch Charlie more. He thought back to some of those Stucky fics he’d read at uni, on his phone in the dark. Probably not the best source of gay sex educational information, but his school lessons had mostly dealt with heterosexual sex. Scissor and curl, Nick finally remembered.

Once both fingers were inside Charlie and his breathing had regulated somewhat, Nick tried to angle them apart. Charlie immediately gasped, but seemingly in a good way, so Nick repeated the action, until after a minute Charlie felt more pliable under Nick’s attention. Then he began curling his fingers, not entirely sure what he was looking for until Charlie suddenly shouted and shook. 

“Right there, right fucking there,” Charlie yelped, the arms holding him up quivering. 

Nick had never really explored his prostate, though he’d heard enough about it to understand stimulating it could be immensely pleasurable. Charlie’s reaction was pretty clear about that. Nick jabbed at it again, producing more jolts of pleasure in Charlie, and tried to remember where the little bundle of nerves was so he could hit it again when he finally fucked Charlie.

Speaking of which…

Nick pulled back, added more lube to his hand and then inserted a third finger, stretching Charlie hurriedly. He’d been fingering the man for a while and his leaking cock was absolutely aching for relief. If Nick didn’t fuck him soon, he felt like he was going to faint.

“Are you ready yet?” Nick asked impatiently.

“Oh Nick, you really know how to wine and dine a guy,” Charlie muttered.

Nick sighed. “I just meant —”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good enough. I can take you now, trust me,” Charlie replied.

Part of Nick felt like sniping back. The other, much larger part wanted to fuck Charlie into the mattress and make him eat those words. That part won out.

Nick swallowed his response and instead ripped his hand out of Charlie unceremoniously. He threw caution to the wind and tore the condom wrapped open with his teeth and slid the thin rubber down his shaft, which at this point felt about as hard as steel. His cock was down bad . His self-imposed celibacy may have been a bad idea if it had his body reacted this obscenely to Charlie fucking Spring.  

He pressed more lube into Charlie and slathered some along his sheathed cock before lining up. Charlie kneeled with his arse in the air, fucking presenting himself, his back arched down deliciously to where his elbows supported his torso against the mattress. Nick suddenly realised this was a big moment — his first time with a man. Penetrating a man, at least, after the prior day’s conference room encounter. Maybe he shouldn’t have put men off the menu so easily, Nick thought. These experiences had been mind-blowing. Imagine what sex would be like with a man he actually liked?

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” Charlie challenged, derailing Nick’s train of thought. He was so fucking inconsiderate sometimes. 

“Absolutely,” Nick said, grabbing his cock and pressing it against Charlie’s entrance. “The greatest pleasure is going to be shutting you the fuck up.”

Charlie scoffed. “We’ll see about tha-aaaaAAAAT!” The end of the sentence dragged out loudly as Nick pushed forward aggressively, shoving his ridged cockhead past Charlie’s rim in one quick motion. He was so tight around Nick — definitely a new experience. Even better, it really did shut Charlie up. Better make use of the peace and quiet, Nick figured, so he inched his way forward, claiming more and more ground within Charlie until after just a minute or so his hips were firmly pressed up against Charlie’s arse. 

Holy shit, it felt so fucking good. And this was just with his cock sitting there motionless. Imagine once he started moving. But he could tell from Charlie’s movements beneath him, the dip of his head and the raggedness in his breath, that he needed a bit to adjust, so Nick held himself back. 

Nick may hate Charlie, but he didn’t want him to think Nick was a bad lay.

Unsure what to do in the meantime, Nick grabbed Charlie’s hips and ran his palms up and down his torso, feeling Charlie’s ribs under his fingers like a xylophone. It’s not like Charlie wasn’t already physically attractive — like, that was dramatically underselling it, Nick barely held himself back from wolf-whistling when Charlie shucked his shirt earlier, his body was fucking insanely hot. 

He also ran his hands up and down the curved plane of Charlie’s back. It was shockingly muscular, though it didn’t look it, and Nick could feel a great deal of warmth seeping through Charlie’s body through Nick’s palms. 

As he explored, Charlie suddenly reared up, moving to lean against his hands on the bed. He turned his head enough to see Nick in his peripheral vision.

“All right,” Charlie muttered. “Show me what you can do, rugby lad.”

Nick’s lip curled into a smirk. Hey, he asked for it.

He withdrew his hips slowly, then snapped them forward, propelling Charlie forward a bit before he bounced back on his cock. Nick repeated the motion a couple more times.

Charlie mimicked a yawn. What an asshole.

“Is that the best you can do?” he asked mockingly.

Nick grimaced and fucked him harder, more quickly, more aggressively. Now there was rhythm, at least. The bed beneath them swayed a little under the movement, the room filled with the sound of slapping skin and gasping men.

“Well, that’s better,” Charlie said as Nick fucked into him, his voice warbling from the vibrations. “I guess you’ve got some brute force… but what about control? I’m seeing no evidence of that.”

Ah, it was control he wanted demonstrated. Ask and ye shall receive, jackass, Nick thought.

Nick shifted his body a bit, but was unable on subsequent thrusts to quite reach his target. So he hauled one knee up off the mattress, balancing on his foot instead. Then Nick gripped Charlie’s hips and manhandled him into a slightly different position. Suddenly, everything clicked. Nick’s cock hit paydirt — or rather, Charlie’s prostate. Again and again he brushed past the sensitive gland, making Charlie cry out unbidden beneath him. Nick really let himself go, pistoning with abandon into Charlie, who by now was trembling beneath him from the stimulation. 

Nick fucked harder and harder, pumping his glutes better than any gym workout. His face, neck, chest and arms were red from strain and glistened with sweat. Beneath him, Charlie was moaning like those twink porn stars Nick had watched videos of, but he knew there was no way Charlie was making those noises voluntarily since he would never wish to give Nick the satisfaction. 

An errant withdrawal made Nick’s dick flop out of Charlie, and it was a couple more thrusts into the space between his thighs before Nick could slow down enough to grab it and glide it back in. Before he reinserted the head, he leisurely ran it along Charlie’s rim and asked, “How are you enjoying this so far, then?”

Charlie gulped a deep breath.

“It’s gotten better,” he admitted reluctantly. “I think it’s a solid four out of five stars.”

“Four!” Nick squawked.

“Hey, that’s very respectable for a selfish prick like yourself,” Charlie retorted, pretty bravely since Nick could just walk away and leave him with blue balls.

Fuck, no he couldn’t. Not that he would admit that to Charlie.

“Well, let me see if I can enhance your experience,” Nick shot back, shoving his fat cock inside Charlie bluntly. 

He resumed thrusting, putting every ounce of thought and desire and stamina into it. He could feel Charlie starting to move a little as well, enhancing the power of Nick’s onslaught. The bed, which had jostled a little so far, now began banging a pattern into the drywall, and Nick couldn’t be fucked to care about potential damage to the wall or noise for whatever shitty neighbors Charlie had. All he cared about was chasing his pleasure, and making sure Charlie got his as well. The guy definitely deserved a good orgasm after all this, Nick figured.

Without warning, Charlie’s arms buckled, and he fell forward flat onto the mattress, Nick collapsed on top of him, letting the leg he had been using to steady himself stretch back behind him. Now, Nick lay on top of Charlie directly, slathered onto him, their bodies pressed against one another. Blood pounded, heat flowed, and the breaths each man sucked in could be felt by the other. Nick gasped at the sudden change in position, but it let him get just slightly deeper inside Charlie, so without thinking he immediately began fucking him again, their pelvises practically bouncing off the bed like a trampoline. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Nick knew that Charlie’s huge cock must be trapped between his body and the bed, but he ignored that thought too. 

With their bodies pressed together, everything felt so much… more. It was intoxicating to Nick, overwhelming what little rationality he had left. The complicated feelings, the concerns about doing this, the drive to teach this fucker a lesson — it all melted away, until all that was left was the animalistic passion, the raw sex as each man gasped for air. 

Not even realising, Nick craned his neck forward and licked and nipped at the side of Charlie’s neck, nibbling his ear, licking into the crevasse behind it, salty and musky with sweat trapped there. Nick’s hands ran down Charlie’s arms until clasping his own hands from behind, intertwining their fingers.

He may have been babbling — Nick honestly wasn’t sure what was reality and what was merely fantasy at this point — but he was pretty sure he’d just uttered the words “so good for me, Charlie” when he felt the other man tense beneath him and begin spasming. Holy shit. He was coming untouched, or at least untouched by Nick, since friction from the sheets beneath Charlie probably played a role. 

The noises coming from Charlie’s mouth could only be described as filthy. Nick tried to remember them exactly so he could remember them later when he was touching himself alone in bed at night. Charlie was not quiet, either; Nick would be shocked if he didn’t get noise complaints.

The feeling of Charlie coming undone beneath him, the sounds emanating from his mouth, the compression of his arsehold around Nick’s cock — it all pushed Nick over the edge, as well. Huffing directly into Charlie’s ear, he thrust one last time and pushed as deep as he could, unloading into the condom as he made deeply embarrassing sounds. 

He felt like hot butter, melting against the bony form beneath him, warmth flooding every nook and cranny. 

Nick hadn’t come that hard in… well, he wasn’t sure, to be honest. In a long time? Maybe ever? Might have been even better than his first time in Year 11, when he discovered just how different sex was when your dick was buried inside somebody. He had lasted all of 30 seconds inside Caroline from the girls’ school, and of course he made sure she got off as well, but he’d simply been unable to stop himself from the overwhelming sensation.

Some of which he felt now as his still inflated cock grew overly sensitive. He could feel each deep breath Charlie was trying to take, so Nick reared upright and wincingly withdrew until he emerged completely from Charlie’s depths.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed upon seeing the condom half full of his spend. That was a lot, even for Nick. He slid it off his shaft and tied it off before dropping it onto the floor, not caring much where it ended up. Nick collapsed backward, his spine pressed against the wall by the end of Charlie’s bed as its regular occupant continued to lie there like a jellified starfish. 

“God damn it,” Charlie finally groaned. “How does a giant selfish bell end like yourself fuck like that?”

“Funny,” Nick replied, not an ounce of mirth in his voice. “I was just going to ask how a rude, arrogant prick like yourself can fuck that well.”

“It’s a mystery,” Charlie said, rolling over onto his side so he could tilt his head back enough to see Nick. “We should do that again.”

Nick’s eyes bugged out.

“Not tonight,” Charlie quickly clarified. “But, you know. Another time.”

Fuck. One round of sex — albeit one round of incredible, unbelievable, transcendent sex — and Charlie was basically asking for a relationship. No, no, no. Alarm bells immediately went off in Nick’s head. He needed to get out of there.

“I, uh… got an early morning,” Nick said, looking at his phone. Past 11 now. It hadn’t felt like it, but they’d been fucking for well over an hour.

Nick propelled himself off the bed. Grabbing a dry tissue from a box on Charlie’s desk, he wiped down his cock as well he could before shimmying back into his joggers. Finding his shirt took a moment — maybe if Charlie didn’t already have apparel on every surface like this was a charity shop. Finally, he located it and slid it over his head.

“Okay. Um. Bye,” he said, barely making eye contact with Charlie.

“Hey, could you at least help me change the sheets?” Charlie asked, waving his hand over the huge wet spot left by his come. 

It would be the right thing to do, Nick knew. But… his head was screaming at him to escape now.

“That, uh. Sounds more like a you problem,” Nick said. It sounded douchey coming out of his mouth, but there was no taking it back now.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh wow, okay. Fuck you, too, Nick.”

“Sorry, I — sorry,” Nick bumbled. Emerging into Charlie’s living room, he thankfully remembered to grab the goldenrod playbook and his jacket before stumbling out the door and onto the street. It was late, and quiet, so he wandered home on autopilot, trying not to think about how this deeply annoying person had just milked out of him the best orgasm of his life.

A woman in her 40s gave Nick a strange look as she walked past with her dog on a leash. She was the third person to do so, and while it wasn’t unusual for Nick to get noticed in public, each person had looked at him strangely. He pulled up his phone’s camera app and turned it to selfie mode — where he realised Charlie’s goddamn face mask cream or whatever was smeared all over his cheeks and forehead. He tried rubbing at them to no avail. Fucking great. He was just going to look like this until he got home and could wash it off.

As he stomped home, Nick’s phone dinged.

Charlie Spring [11:24]: LINK: 13 Ways to Practise Sexual Aftercare | menshealth.com

Charlie Spring [11:24]: 🙄

Notes:

Will Nick ever stop running away?

Public service announcement: Don't open condoms with your teeth like Nick did! They can tear.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick deals with the aftermath of his conference room encounter with Charlie, trying to figure out how the hell that happened. Then it happens again.

This time: Nick is noticeably off his game, and tells Charlie they need to not do that again so they can focus on their professional lives.

Notes:

KitSaidOui continues to set the gold standard for beta reading and also just in general. Go read his work on the off-chance you're not already.

“NELSON!”

Coach Singh’s angry voice rang out across the practice pitch. 

Nick turned an embarrassed shade of red as he began jogging over to Singh. He ignored Harry’s sniggering as he passed the outside centre, as well as Sai’s worried look, although he was further away and easier to avoid.

“Yes, coach,” Nick said, stopping in front of the short angry woman and holding his hands to his waist as he caught his breath. 

“Nick, where’s your head today?” Singh asked, concern evident in her voice.

He pinched his eyes shut. He’d been fucking up all day, and with the big match against the Porpoises coming up, they couldn’t afford to be fucking up this much. Nick especially — a rookie playing starting fly-half was practically unheard of. 

“Do you? Let's run down today, shall we?” Singh looked over her clipboard. “Three missed passes. Four shitty kicks. Two handling errors. Your defensive work's in the loo, so poor McBride took a nasty tackle. And you misread the other side's defensive strategy three times.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said sadly, looking down at his feet. He felt like he was back in sixth form getting chewed out by a teacher. 

“It’s not about sorry, Nick, it’s about being better,” Singh replied. “I’ve never seen you this discombobulated before. What’s going on? Anything happen off the field? Death in the family, girlfriend trouble, Netflix cancelled your favourite show after one season?”

Nick kept his face stony, trying not to react when she mentioned girlfriend trouble. Not that it was a girl. And not that it was a… a romantic situation. It absolutely wasn’t.

“Sorry, coach, I’m not — it’s just… I’m just having an off week.”

Singh eyes him, unconvinced.

“Right. Well. Get your house in order, Nelson,” she commanded. “Fuck someone… stop fucking someone… learn meditation, I don’t care, just get your head back in the game.”

Nick just nodded silently, not meeting her gaze.

“All right, go on,” she said quietly. He turned and jogged half-heartedly back to position as she barked out orders for the next scrimmage. He was so busy avoiding Harry’s stupid gloating look that he almost didn’t notice Otis quietly talking with Sai off in the distance.

A couple hours later, Nick had only screwed up two more times when Singh called it for the day. He spent longer than usual on the treadmill cooling down, trying to clear his mind. Try as he might, after a few minutes, his brain would once again steer him back to those curly locks and that smirk that Nick alternately wanted to slap away or kiss off.

Nick emerged from the shower to find the locker room mostly vacated except for Sai camped out in front of his cubby, playing his retro GameBoy — Pokemon Yellow, by the colour of the cartridge. 

Nick dressed, packed up and headed out, completely unsurprised when Sai happened to stow his GameBoy and leave at the same time. 

“You, uh… just happened to stick around later today, huh?” Nick asked as they emerged from the stadium and walked side by side down the pavement.

“Oh, I was trying to beat the Pewter City gym leader and completely lost track of time,” Sai said with an artificial chuckle. 

They made it another block in silence before Nick spoke again.

“You know we’re not boyfriends, right? You don’t have to, like. Hang out with me all the time.”

“Nick…” Sai finally replied, speaking carefully. “You know you don’t have to push me away, right? I’m here, I’m invested, I’m not gonna just leave because you’re prickly.”

Nick kept his eyes trained on the shop windows as they passed. Never had faux leather purses and maternity clothing been so fascinating.

Sai eventually continued when it became clear Nick wasn’t going to engage directly. “Yes, Nick, I know we’re not boyfriends. But we’re best friends. And… I like spending time with you, is all.”

Nick scoffed gently. “We already live together and work together. That’s not enough for you?”

Sai shook his head. “No, actually, it’s not.”

Nick was silent for another block.

“Otis ask you to check in on me?”

“He did,” Sai replied. “But he didn’t have to. Something’s been off for a few days now. I know you almost certainly won’t but… you can talk to me about anything. I promise I won’t even tell Imogen.”

Nick shook his head, spending all his willpower fighting back the hint of moisture building up in his eyes. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just… can’t right now.”

Sai nodded. “OK.”

They walked companionably, but silently, the rest of the way home. Once through the front door, Sai plopped down on the couch and pulled out his GameBoy again. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” Nick said after filling his water bottle in the kitchen, jutting his thumb toward his room. Sai looked at him and nodded.

Nick paused in his doorway, looking at his best friend.

“Hey, Sai,” he called out. Sai dropped the gaming device on the cushion next to him and looked up.

“Why are you… you know, so nice to me?” Nick asked. “Why don’t you hate me like everyone else?”

“That’s reason number one right there,” Sai replied. “You’re a huge drama queen and I love that for you. Nick… not everyone hates you. In fact, very few people hate you. And Harry can fuck right off.”

Despite himself and his glum mood, Nick chuckled genuinely.

“And anyway,” Sai continued, “you’re my best mate because you’re funny and honest and loyal and kind — actually, you can be very kind when you want to be.”

Nick looked down at the carpet. “That’s not how most people see me.”

“Sweetie, I’m not most people,” Sai replied with a smirk. “Now, you take your nap and you’ll feel a lot better. In the meantime… wish me luck in Pewter City.”

 

***

 

A couple of days later, Nick had another scheduled meeting with Charlie at Hope Public Relations. It was Friday, and the Blackbirds had only a light drill that day to reserve energy for the next day’s match against the Porpoises. Things had not improved much at practice, and slowly Nick’s ineptitude had infected the whole team, plummeting morale. 

Nick ended up being stuck outside the building for about 15 minutes, trying to work up the courage to step inside. He’d thought a lot about what he was going to say to Charlie. Their only communication in the 62 or so hours since Nick had enjoyed the best sex in his life with one of his least favourite people in the world had been a basic text confirming the meeting details. 

He was a few minutes late as it was, so Nick gathered his courage and marched on in. The receptionist waved him past, a familiar sight in the office by this point, and Nick padded down the corridor to the conference room they always met in. Nick paused with his hand on the doorknob, sucked in a breath and entered.

But Charlie wasn’t there. He’d always been there first, so Nick was somewhat flummoxed at the development. The room seemed to pulsate, in and out, in and out, until Nick realised it was his racing heartbeat. He sat, closed his eyes and tried some of the calming methods that he’d learned from Charlie, ironically. 

He’d actually started to slip into a quiet meditative state when the door swung open and Charlie stumbled through. 

“Oh! You’re here!” he yelped upon seeing Nick sitting there quietly.

“I’m here,” Nick replied.

“Right.”

Charlie stood there awkwardly a few moments as they each avoided making direct eye contact.

“Right,” he repeated, then stepped forward to take a seat opposite Nick. “So. Um. Everything work out with your, uh, goldenrod book?”

Nick nodded. Harry had looked positively crestfallen when Nick produced it on Wednesday. It had been the one highlight of Nick’s day.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Right,” he said a third time. “Let’s see what’s on today’s agenda.” He ran his index finger down a piece of paper. 

“Okay, first things first, Muffin has gotten her monthly injection, she’s fine.”

Nick nodded again. He knew that.

“We’ve also arranged to have you make a donation to pay for an airlock at the gate to the animal shelter,” Charlie said. “It’s not very expensive, just some extra fencing and a second gate so people can enter and exit without accidentally letting any dogs out.”

Nick crossed his arms and nodded again. Felt like something the shelter should have already had in place but… whatever. He was sure he’d see a few hundred more pounds drained from his bank account soon enough. 

“Any questions?” Charlie asked.

Nick shook his head. He was playing it quiet today.

“Okay then,” Charlie said, again sticking his index finger on the agenda he had printed out, because it’s 2005 and that’s how things work, apparently.

“Item two: we need to talk about that insane sex.”

If Nick had been drinking anything, he would have spurted it out in shock at the casual manner in which Charlie dropped the subject.

“Oh my god!” he yelped. “Is that actually on there? What the fuck!”

“No, it’s not actually on this official meeting agenda, Nick,” Charlie hissed. “But we do need to fucking talk about it!”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Yes, yes, they needed to talk about it. It was basically impossible to continue forward in a professional manner without talking about it.

Please don’t make him talk about it.

“The thing is. I’m so sorry,” Nick finally uttered. “"I didn't think properly about what I was doing and... I did a stupid thing. I don't want you to feel awkward about it, since you sort of work for me. It was all my fault.”

“Hang on,” Charlie started, but Nick interrupted before he could continue.

“I shouldn’t have fucked you.”

Charlie froze, looking as if he were on the verge of speaking. He stared at Nick, caution flashing across his face. 

“It’s just that… I need you. To help me act better. And, I don’t know… and anyway, I’m not dating right now. Not dating anyone. I need to focus, keep my head in the game. I’ve been off all week, ever since… and we’ve got a big game, and I’d rather not be distracted. So.”

“Right,” Charlie said. “Well. I guess that’s that then.”

“Sorry,” Nick winced.

Charlie busied himself organising papers and such, which was difficult because he didn’t have a whole ton in front of him.

“I’m sure it’s for the best. Not worth the…” Charlie said, trailing off as he studiously ignored Nick. “All right, item three. Okay, dogs aren’t your thing. I’ve got something I think you’re going to like a lot better. Do you own a tux?”

Okay, not what Nick was expecting.

“Uh. No. Who owns a tux?”

Charlie looked up at him with one eyebrow raised. “Eh… okay. I’m sure I can find a stylist to lend you something and do your hair and face.”

Nick was totally lost. “What?”

“JDRF — that’s the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation — is hosting a bachelor auction fundraiser next week. And they had someone drop out. So I’m putting you up for bids.”

“What?” Nick repeated.

Charlie sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Bachelor auction. Sell you. To highest bidder. For charity.”

“You’re pimping me out?” 

“I am not — do not have sex with whoever buys you, Nick!” Charlie said sternly.

Nick just coolly raised one eyebrow.

“I didn’t — not like that. Not because…” Charlie was sputtering — this was delightful . Finally, some fun! “I meant don’t fuck your buyer because we’re trying to improve your image. It’s a date only.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Are you implying fucking my buyer would harm my image?” he asked facetiously. “Because I believe my most recent liaison was more than satisfied.”

“Okay, Jesus Christ!” Charlie said, actually slapping his hands over his ears as they turned red.

It would have been cute if Nick didn’t enjoy torturing this haughty twat so much.

“All right, all right, calm down,” Nick said. “JDRF is a great charity. Imogen does some work for them. She’s Type 1.”

“I know?” Charlie retorted frustratedly. “She’s the one who gave me the idea, actually.”

Nick nodded. This could work.

And surely being around Charlie in a highly charged atmosphere like that wouldn’t be a problem at all.

 

***

 

Nick was in an absolutely foul mood as he clomped down the pavement toward Rick’s Cafe to meet Tara and Darcy for a casual, non-business brunch. It had been on the books since well before the Blackbirds tanked yesterday against the Porpoises. The loss — driven in large part by mistakes both physical and tactical by Nick — had been bad enough that Nick had taken a secret tunnel to a building across the street from the stadium to exit so he could avoid the fans still mulling around the players’ exit even after he’d moped in the shower and sat in the sauna for so long the team doctor had told him to get out of the steam before he got heat exhaustion.

He hadn’t slept much that night, even after taking two melatonin tablets. His mind raced with slow-motion playbacks of every one of his fuck-ups on the field. Nick wasn’t ordinarily the type to react this way to a loss — even the best athletes in the world lost regularly — but nonetheless his stomach was tangled in knots thinking about how he’d let his team down. Let himself down.

He might have been okay if there hadn’t been something else lurking in the recess of his mind. Or rather, someone else. What demonic sorcery had gotten Nick so entranced by his stupid, annoying flack? Was it really just his libido run amuck? Nick was sex-starved, and Charlie was there, so that was that? It was plausible… But then, why Charlie specifically? Why wasn’t Nick fawning over anyone else? 

Possibly because there really weren’t many options? Nick thought about his life. There were three whole women in his life regularly: the two lesbians he was about to meet, and Imogen, who Nick frankly was kind of scared of when it came to sex. Not a ton of guys in his life either. Sai was like a brother. A much better brother than Nick’s flesh-and-blood sibling. Christian and Otis were objectively attractive, but Nick had never had those kinds of thoughts about either one (nor would he act on it if he did, for a host of reasons). Most of the rest of the team were fine to hang out with at parties but Nick didn’t know them as individuals. And Harry… Harry could choke.

Nick sighed. It should have taken him longer to catalogue his friendships than it took to walk past a bloody Starbucks. 

All that being said, Nick was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he was sick of lying around in bed and concerned that if he cancelled, the girls might just show up at his door. So off to brunch it was.

“Oi, wanker!” 

Nick, startled, looked across the street and saw an older man with a potbelly shouting at him.

“Gonna call you Nick Fumble-son after yesterday!” The man laughed, as did the couple of people standing beside him, despite the pun being simply atrocious, and not in a good way.

Nick wanted to tell this guy to fuck off and flash him the bird. Instead, he used one of the anger management strategies Charlie taught him, visualising his ire as a red balloon that he let go of to float away into the sky. As the metaphorical balloon shrank into the distance, so too did Nick’s fury. 

Fuck. Nick hated when Charlie’s stupid shit actually worked.

The guy kept shouting stuff, but Nick turned and walked away, not even bothering to listen. He actually liked his fans most of the time, but there were always a few arseholes who crawled out of the woodworks every time he fucked up.

“Morning,” Darcy said as Nick slid into his seat.

Nick merely grunted in response.

“Did I negotiate a sponsorship deal for you with Carhartt and just forget? And if not, I really should put that on my to-do list,” Tara replied, scanning his outfit up and down. Nick liked Carhartt, it was comfortable and looked good without standing out too much. Not that it had stopped three different people from heckling him just this morning.

Nick picked up the menu and studied it, though his eyes barely took in any of the words. It was less the hecklers this morning and more his overall bad mood. 

Almost on autopilot, Nick ordered when the waiter came around and vaguely listened as Darcy described some silly drama with a musician she manages. He was sipping his coffee when he suddenly realised there was a child standing next to him.

“Oh!” Nick exclaimed, thankfully avoiding spilly anything on himself.

“You’re Nick Nelson,” the boy, who looked to be 8 or 9, said, his eyes wide. He had a shock of ginger hair and freckles, not unlike Nick.

Nick smiled. “Yes, I am. What’s your name?”

“Robin.”

A woman suddenly appeared — presumably his mother. “I’m so sorry, I told him not to bother you, he’s just a huge fan…” She gently grabbed one of the boy’s arms, but Nick turned in his seat and waved his hand to stop her.

“It’s no bother,” he told her before returning attention to Robin. “So you like the Blackbirds?”

“Uh-huh, but I like you the most,” Robin replied. “I play fly-half on my school team, too.”

Nick gasped. “That’s so cool!”

“Sorry you lost yesterday,” Robin said genuinely. Nick’s smile faltered only slightly. Out of the mouths of babes…

“Yeah. Everybody loses sometimes, don’t they?” Nick replied. “But you know what makes me feel better? Knowing I have awesome fans like you.”

That was apparently the right thing to say, because Robin twisted up his mouth in awe and blushed a little. 

“How about a selfie?” Nick offered.

Robin’s eyes lit up. His mom pulled out her phone and Nick threw his arm around Robin’s shoulders, flashing a peace sign in his other hand and grinning. He heard the camera snap a few times and then she stood upright again.

“Nice to meet you, Robin,” Nick said. “Good luck at your next game!”

“Thanks Nick, you too!” 

Robin trundled off, his mother mouthing “thank you” at Nick before following behind him. Nick glanced back at Tara and Darcy but followed their gaze back to where Robin and his mother had returned to their table on the other side of the restaurant. Robin jumped up and down excitedly and started babbling excitedly to a couple of other adults.

Nick turned back around, a genuine smile plastered on his face.

“Oh my god, that was so cute!” Darcy squeed.

“Ugh, my ovaries ,” Tara agreed. “Why can’t you be like that with everyone, Nick?”

He shrugged. “Kids are good. Adults are bastards.”

 

***

 

This was a lot more hair product than Nick was used to. His clothing was kind of stiff and it felt like makeup had been troweled onto his face. But looking in a mirror, he had to admit — he looked fucking hot as hell.

Charlie had hooked him up with a stylist who took his measurements earlier in the week and arrived at the bachelor auction with a fancy suit in a garment bag. Instead of a plain tux, the man had him wearing a white button down that was open almost to his stomach, exposing the tank top underneath. And the black jacket had a thin white piping that made the lapel really pop. Meanwhile, a hair and makeup woman had painted his face, pushing away his objections by saying it would look great under the stage lights, and then coiffed his hair into a puffy wave. A small enough surfer could hang ten on his head, but damned if it didn’t look great.

Nick was adjusting his cuffs when Charlie walked in.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, eyes raking over Nick. 

“Is it… is it bad?” Nick asked awkwardly. Maybe he really did look as stupid as he felt.

Charlie shook his head. “No, you look… it looks great.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither sure what to say, before Sai knocked and walked in.

“Nick, could you tie my tie, you know I’m — oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, looking between Nick and Charlie.

Nick made quick introductions. “Sai, this is Charlie Spring, Charlie, Sai.”

“Yeah, we know each other,” Sai said. “I hang out at Cuppa’s all the time to see Imogen.”

“And we appreciate your tips, good sir!” Charlie replied. It must have been an inside joke, because both men laughed raucously at the slightly odd comment. Nick found it strange that these two men with diametric roles in his own life had their own sort-of friendship totally outside of him.

“Sorry I couldn’t swing the stylist for you, too,” Charlie told Sai.

“It’s fine,” Sai replied. “I know I’m just the appetiser to Nick’s main course on the auction floor.”

They knew Nick was in the room, right? And that he wasn’t just a piece of meat?

“You said you needed help?” Nick asked, looking at the maroon tie in Sai’s hand.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Sai handed him the strip of fabric and stepped in front of the mirror, Nick stepping up right behind him and tilting his head so he could see as he reached around to affix it to Sai’s neck.

“I’m rubbish at this,” Sai explained, making eye contact in the mirror with Charlie as Nick worked it into a knot. “Nick or Imogen always have to do it for me.”

Satisfied with the windsor, Nick pulled it taut against Sai’s throat and patted him on the shoulder. “All done.”

“Thanks, babe,” Sai said, adjusting the fabric against his shirt. He glanced at Charlie, who bore a curious expression. “I like calling Nick little pet names… because I love him, but also because it makes him all flustered in a funny way.”

Charlie hummed. “Maybe I’ll have to start doing that.”

Nick glared at him, but Charlie only giggled and looked away.

A woman with a headset on stuck her head in the room. “Sai Verma and Nicholas Nelson? You’re up next.”

The three men headed down the hallway crowded with local hunks — media personalities, businessmen, doctors, a couple musicians — and sidled up to the side of the stage, where bidding was just wrapping up on a sculptor whose biceps rivalled Nick’s.

Sai turned to Nick with a grimace. “Okay, don’t laugh but I’m kind of freaking out no one is going to bid on me.”

Nick turned to face Sai and made some tiny adjustments to his suit while he talked. “You’re gonna bring in tons of money, Sai. You’re cute, you’re desirable, you’re amazing and — oh, you’re on!” he gave Sai a gentle shove onto the stage, where the spotlight quickly found him. Sai offered a weak wave to the crowd as the emcee introduced him.

“Starting us off in the professional athletes category is Sai Verma, relief hooker for the Blackbirds! He’s 25 years old, fluent in Hindi, and likes finger-painting, the music of Taylor Swift and taking long walks on the waterfront!”

Nick watched the proceedings with a grin until he realised Charlie was staring at him.

“What?”

Charlie shook his head and pinched his eyes shut. “Nothing. I — nothing.”

Perplexed, Nick turned back to the auction, where it seemed a quartet of very enthusiastic bidders had driven the price up past £800. Nick was amused to see one of them was Imogen herself. Why she was bidding when she dated Sai for free already was anyone’s guess. When it passed £1,000, she sat down in a huff, throwing her paddle on the floor. The other women continued bidding until the victor pledged to donate £1,900 to JDRF for a date with Sai. 

Sai wandered off the stage back toward Nick and Charlie. 

“Did I… do good? That was a hell of an experience,” he asked, looking slightly dazed.

“You did amazing!” Nick beamed. 

Another person wearing a headset whisked Sai away to meet his new owner benefactor. 

“I’m up,” Nick said. “Wish me luck!”

“Yeah,” Charlie replied, sounding subdued all of a sudden. “Good luck.”

Nick didn’t have time to process the shift before the emcee was announcing him and he had to turn and stroll on stage. 

“Ladies — and if I’m being honest probably some gentlemen — next up on the dais is Mr. Nicholas Nelson! He’s the starting fly-half for the Blackbirds, 26 years old and singlllllllllle,” the emcee said, drawing out the last word and prompting cheers from quite a few people in the crowd. “He likes Formula One racing, Marvel movies and — oh, this is unusual — the sound that felt-tip pens make on paper. Ladies, he's clearly a listener!”

Nick realised he hadn’t thought about where the emcee was getting this biographical information until the felt-tip thing. He told that to Charlie a couple of months prior, when he was asking about his interests. It had been a surprisingly earnest moment, and he remembered Charlie getting annoyed with the answer when he was more looking for interests that might have a philanthropic bent.

He also wondered if Charlie had told the emcee to play up Nick’s availability.

As the bidding began, fast and furious, Nick turned his head to look back at the side of the stage where Charlie was standing. It was empty.

Notes:

The JDRF reference is in honor of Rhea Norwood, who plays Imogen and was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 2022.

Nick's charity auction look was stolen from Kit's GQ Men of the Year styling because it was stunning.

Chapter 10

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick tells Charlie they can't have sex again. He struggles on the pitch and participates in a charity auction.

This time: Nick struggles to find his mojo without his homo.

Notes:

Thank you again to beat reader KitSaidOui, my guiding light, my shining star. And thank you to the commune for making a cogent, rational argument as to why I should post a day early.

A lot of you commented about the inverted canon dialogue in the last chapter. Good news!

Also for those of you speculating about the charity auction... you haven't heard the last about that.

In the following weeks, everything was normal.

Normal was weird.

Anyone eavesdropping on Nick’s meetings with Charlie would have agreed they were perfectly cordial. One would have never known from the conversations about anger management and upcoming philanthropic opportunities that these were two men who had enjoyed the best sex of their lives together one night. Or that they mutually loathed one another. 

Nick had yet to reconcile those two things. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

Things on the pitch hadn’t improved much either. They’d just barely lost to a well-matched rival, something that could have happened anyway, but suffered another loss to a team they frankly should have trounced. Nick worried that Singh was considering benching him. But he couldn’t think of a way to get his mojo back.

Their latest meeting had just ended and Nick was walking down the block when he got a text from the operations manager. Due to some league-wide scheduling snafu, the Blackbirds were going to be out of town in a couple of weeks — right when Nick had agreed to attend a fundraiser for the local historical society. He was so close, Nick decided to just turn back and tell Charlie in person.

“Where’s Charlie Spring’s office?” he asked the receptionist. “He left the conference room after our meeting but I’m realising I don’t know where his office is.”

She looked around awkwardly for a moment before replying. “Um, I don’t think he’s in his office. Follow me, I know his usual haunt.”

They walked down a different corridor that Nick wasn’t familiar with until she left him at a door marked “Staff Kitchen.” Inside was a refrigerator, microwave, hot drinks station, some tables — standard office kitchenette. And there was Charlie, pecking away at his laptop at a corner table crammed with notebooks and binders and stuff. Like he always sat there to work.

“Uh, hey,” Nick called out.

Charlie startled, looking like a deer caught in headlights. After a few moments he collected himself and stood.

“What are you doing here?”

“I literally just heard from the team — there’s been a scheduling change, I can’t make that gala now because we’ll be out of town,” he said, pointing at his phone as if to offer proof. “Sorry about that.”

“Right,” Charlie said, nodding, his eyes drifting across the wall. “Hmm. Well, maybe we can record a video message? I’ll contact the organisers.”

Nick nodded. “Sure.” He eyes Charlie’s pile of stuff. “Do you just really like working in the break room, or…”

Charlie sighed and sat down, resting his jaw on his hand. 

“No.”

The refrigerator whirred to life loudly. Sounded like it could use a maintenance check.

“Why do we always meet in that conference room?” Nick asked. “Why don’t we ever use your office?”

Charlie scanned the piles of stuff and shrugged. “This is my office. Ta-da.”

Nick scrunched his face in confusion. “Did something happen to yours? Water damage? Fire? Meteorite strike?”

Charlie scoffed. “Er, no. I never had an office. And I probably never will.”

“I’m paying all this money and my publicist can’t even afford an office?” Nick asked quizzically. When Charlie didn’t respond, Nick pushed harder. “Charlie, what the hell is going on around here? The vibes are… off.”

Charlie’s eyebrows slammed together. “The vibes ? The vibes ‘are off’? Who even are you right now?”

Nick shook his head and chuckled. “Uh-uh, sorry. That might have worked on old Nick. But enlightened Nick learned about deflection. Which you’re doing right now.”

Charlie groaned and dropped his face into his cupped hands.

In a moment of weakness, Nick felt bad.

“Come on,” he said. “Ice cream. My treat.”

Charlie stared at him like he’d proposed marriage. Such a drama queen.

“One-time offer…” Nick added.

Hesitating only a few seconds, Charlie threw up his hands in acquiescence and stood, grabbing his coat.

Ten minutes later and two blocks over, they sat outside the ice cream parlour. Nick had happily gotten bubblegum again — the entertainment of watching Charlie try to hide his disgust more than worth the price of a cone. Charlie had gone for pistachio this time. It was much cooler than their prior visit as England slipped quietly into autumn. 

“You know I don’t see much of the money you’re paying right? Ben pockets the majority?” Charlie finally said, breaking the silence. “Like, more than he should just because he’s the owner.”

“That… sucks,” Nick replied. “Is that why you have to work at Cuppa’s?”

Charlie nodded, taking another lick of the pale green ice cream. “I basically make minimum wage. Cuppa’s actually pays better on an hourly basis because I’m qualified as a shift manager.”

“Why do you put up with that?” Nick inquired. “The shitty pay and the thing where your boss treats you like a pet.”

Charlie sighed and looked into the distance.

“The part where he treats me like shit… that’s nothing new,” he replied. “But the pay is new. Honestly, it’s a step up. I used to let him treat me like shit for free.”

Nick tried to parse Charlie’s words, and was having a hard time until —

“Shit,” he said. “Are you and Ben…”

“We’re exes.”

“Wow. And now you work for him? And he’s very obviously an arsehole to you. What’s that all about?”

Charlie finished crunching down the cone, popping the little point into his mouth and chewing slowly.

“That… is none of your business as my client,” he said. Charlie wiped his hands with a napkin, then dabbed it along his lips before crumbling it in his fist and standing. “Thanks for the ice cream.” 

 

***

 

Imogen was doing yoga in the living room when Nick got home. Spacey new age music that really annoyed him filled the air as she formed a v-shape in the downward facing dog position. She sometimes got Sai and on occasion even Nick to join her, but Imogen was exercising all alone today.

“Hey Nicky,” she called out as she tapped her phone, pausing the music.

“Don’t call me that,” Nick shot back as he lay down on the couch. “Where’s Sai?”

“The library’s hosting a tournament of Magic: The Gathering, and —”

Nick threw up one hand in the stop pose. “Enough said.”

“So how was your day?” Imogen asked. She sat down on the mat and twisted herself into what Nick was pretty sure was the compass pose. He just remembers being nowhere near flexible enough to pull off pulling one leg straight into the air like that. Every time he watched Imogen do yoga, it became a little clearer why her and Sai's sex life was so bomb.

His day, right.

“Yeah, it was normal.”

“Okay,” Imogen said, sounding like Nick had just dumped a dead bird at her feet. “How about things with Charlie? You haven’t ranted about him in a while.”

Nick closed his eyes. He didn’t really want to talk about Charlie. He was uncertain about so many things when it came to that stupid, and stupidly alluring, curly haired man. Had fucking fucked everything up? Or was not fucking fucking everything up? Nick had absolutely no one he could talk to about it. 

Not even Sai and Imogen. He wasn’t sure they’d understand. Theirs was such a pure love — raunchy, to be sure, but sex was just one of the many ways they were perfect fits for one another. Nick wasn’t sure they’d understand whatever had happened with Charlie. Not that Nick understood it, himself, but he worried they’d assume he was just covering up feelings or something. Like he was a child again, yanking girls’ pigtails because he was too young to properly express his feelings. (That was just a metaphor based on the old cliche. Nick was pretty sure he’d never literally pulled a girl’s pigtails.)

That’s definitely not what this thing with Charlie was. Nick was just letting off steam. Sexual steam. Charlie was a warm, available body, someone convenient and attractive enough, nothing more. Sai and Imogen would read too much into it.

“Charlie’s fine, I guess,” Nick replied. “We’re not friends or anything, but we haven’t really clashed in a while.”

“That’s great,” Imogen said, sliding into the bound ankle pose, which let her look at Nick more easily as she stretched. “I’m glad you two are finally getting along. When you first started together, he told me he’d had bad experiences with the rugby lads at his school. A lot of harassment about being gay apparently.”

Nick frowned. Going to a specialist sports school meant there hadn’t exactly been a group of nerds who took the brunt of the bullying. Instead, it was pretty well passed around to all the guys. Hazing wasn’t uncommon, nor was low-level physical harassment. But Nick was hardly surprised like Charlie had been picked on — small, frail looking, nerdy. Gay was just the icing on the cake, probably. That had probably contributed to Charlie’s stubborn, indignant personality today.

Imogen carried on. “But I assured him you were different. You know, once you get past the barbed wire and the chain link fence and the guard dogs and the moat you keep around your sweet little heart.” Imogen’s tone was light-hearted, but Nick knew she wasn’t really exaggerating about how closed off he was.

 

***

 

Nick ran along Sai down the corridor and onto the field along with the rest of the Blackbirds, the stadium crowd roaring for the match against the Prawns. Nick was determined to turn his game around, and not just because he was one fumble away from being benched. He just needed a win. Just one, for the love of god.

“Wave to Imogen!” Sai said, elbowing Nick as they gathered on the sidelines. Nick turned toward the section reserved for players’ families and searched for Imogen. She attended pretty much every match, even if she had to be careful not to get plied with free alcohol again by the other players’ wives. Nick finally found her face among the crowd and raised his hand, only to pause midair when he realised a skinny man with curly hair was sitting next to Imogen.

Only Nick couldn’t see his curly hair. Because Charlie Fucking Spring was wearing his baseball cap. So that’s where Nick fucking left it. He suddenly realised he’d forgotten it in his haste to get out of Charlie’s apartment a few weeks prior after they…

Nick mimicked taking off a hat and then pointed at himself dramatically, trying to communicate to Charlie that he was wearing Nick’s hat. Maybe he didn’t even realise.

Charlie picked the hat up off his head — there were those curls — and looked at it before pointing at Nick. Yours, he asked wordlessly, his bushy eyebrows squinched together.

Nick nodded.

Charlie looked at the hat again, then neatly pulled it back over his head, which he then shook. Then he stuck out a thumb and pointed it as his own chest. It was hard to see the details of his expression from this distance, but Nick was pretty sure Charlie was smirking.

He was… stealing Nick’s hat? What the actual fuck? Who does that?

Nick held his arms up in disbelief. Charlie responded with a middle finger.

Nick’s hands clenched into fists and something inexplicable wrapped around his heart, which had already been beating quickly from anticipation of the match. He thought about some of the anger management techniques he’d learned — from fucking Charlie, of course, Nick was practically choking on irony — and then said fuck, and threw them out the window. He was pissed, but he could channel that acrimony into fucking up the Prawns.

It was go time.

He turned around to face the field and entered some kind of flow state. He vaguely recalled giving directions to his teammates, discussing strategy in huddles, a dozen excellently executed moves. His passing was a work of art, fucking finally.

Before Nick knew it, a couple of hours had passed and he was standing in the locker room, where everyone was popping bottles of sparkling cider and drenching one another in joy. Sai clapped Nick on the back, Christian mussed up his hair, Kieran semi-jokingly bowed to Nick. The Blackbirds had won, big time, for the first time in some three weeks. 

Nick had landed three of their six tries and played crucial roles in the other half. He was back. He didn’t know how, but somehow he was back.

It wasn’t until after the celebrations had died down and he was scrubbing himself in the showers that Nick remembered. Charlie had his goddamn hat, and he knew it and was being a douchenozzle. Nick practically growled with resentment right there in his stall, and he began running so hot the steamy water suddenly seemed lukewarm instead. 

He finished quickly and wrapped up in a towel to get back to his cubby. Fishing out his phone, Nick quickly dashed off a text to Charlie.

Nick Nelson [19:45]: I want my fucking hat back Charlie

He was pleased to see the typing bubble pop up after just a few seconds.

Charlie Spring [19:46]: if you want it, come and claim it

Charlie Spring [19:46]: my place, 10

Nick wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was. Charlie didn’t want a stupid baseball cap. And he didn’t need to hold it hostage. This was a fucking booty call. 

He huffed, left Charlie on read and locked his phone. He had a couple hours before he really had to decide. Nick would go out with the lads to celebrate their big win. Nick and the rest of the Blackbirds found themselves in a deafening nightclub. He had a couple of drinks (keeping to his strict post-victory limit, they had training tomorrow after all) and lost himself in the catchy but forgettable beats on the dancefloor.

After an hour, his hips needed a break, so Nick grabbed a bottle of water and found his way to a side lounge where Sai and Imogen were canoodling.

“The man of the hour, Nicholas Nelson!” shouted Sai, even more loudly than was necessary to be heard over the music. “Come here, you beautiful man, you.” Nick had accidentally gotten close enough that Sai could grab his hand and yank him down on the sofa they were sharing, and then they were all tangled together and Nick simply gave in.

“I’m so glad to see you’re out of your rut, Nicky!” Imogen said, patting the back of his hand.

“Don’t call me that,” Nick replied.

“So how’d you do it?” Sai asked. “Everyone’s been asking how you shook the yips and I had to keep saying I didn’t know.”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t know either, it just happened.”

Imogen sipped from her glass containing an offensively colourful liquid. “Well, whatever happened, just be glad it happened when Charlie was there. Knowing you two, you would have blamed him for the loss somehow, then there’d be more shouting and pouting… What were all those gestures before the game started, anyway?”

Nick squeezed his eyebrows together. “Huh?”

“I saw you two… I don’t know, gesturing to each other. Ending in Charlie giving you the middle finger, very nice,” Imogen said. “What were you on about?”

“Yeah, what was that?” Sai chimed in.

Nick certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. He shrugged again. “Like we need to be in the same room to insult one another?” 

They chatted for a few more minutes before Imogen suddenly jabbed Sai in the ribs. “Hey, come on, let’s get some refills.”

Sai moaned. “But I’m so comfy!”

She looked him in the eye, speaking their silent language. Nick watched with interest. He’d never been able to decipher it, but he did know Sai wasn’t being dragged away for some club sex because Imogen would simply proposition Sai in front of Nick. 

They stood and disappeared into the writing crowd beyond the lounge — and as Nick watched them go, he realised there was a woman leaning against a column gazing at him. Seeing he was alone, she sauntered over.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, pointing at the now empty seat next to Nick.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” he replied.

She appeared to be in her mid-20s as well, with straight shoulder-length black hair, a thin face sparkling with glitter on her cheeks. That led to pert lips and then down to her dainty exposed shoulders. Nick’s eyes trailed south, taking in her shimmering, form-fitting black dress that wrapped perfectly around her lithe body. Nick glanced almost involuntarily at her cleavage as she sat down before looking away guiltily. As she settled with one leg crossed over another, he returned to her perfectly sculpted face, where he noticed her lips quirked into a single dimple and her honey brown eyes giving him a similar once-over.

“I’m Ji-Eun,” she said, holding out a hand.

“Nick,” he said while shaking it.

“I know,” she said with a smile. 

Nick nodded knowingly. “Ah. Are you a rugby fan, then?”

“Not really, but my ex-boyfriend was, so I ended up watching a lot of games,” she said, stirring her drink. “Since we broke up this summer I haven’t really been following, but it seems like you all are celebrating.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nick said, looking around awkwardly. “Big win tonight.”

“And how many times did you score?” Ji-Eun asked, her voice too sultry for a Sky Sports-style post-game analysis. This had happened to Nick last year a lot, and he’d let it happen most of the time. There was a seemingly endless supply of women who wanted him simply because he was a professional athlete, it seemed, and for a while that had been invigorating. But the one-night stands turned exhausting as Nick felt used so the women could simply say they’d slept with him. And the handful of trysts that turned into something more always ended up dashed against the rocks because of his personality.

But now Nick knew that his self-imposed celibacy, though well intentioned, had thrown off his game. Maybe the sex was worth it, even if it hurt when no one wanted to actually be with Nick Nelson the person instead of Nick Nelson the star athlete.

So he leaned in — figuratively and literally, so they could talk without yelling. Nick chatted and flirted with Ji-Eun. She was undeniably attractive and actually seemed to know something about rugby, despite not being a fan. She was a solicitor, but insisted it was boring real estate law, "not the fun criminal stuff you see on television." Nick described a bit about their rigorous training schedule.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s absolutely working for you,” Ji-Eun purred. She ran her hand lightly down Nick’s bicep, and maybe he did flex it a little. What’s the point in having all those muscles if it can’t impress people?

Just then the song changed and Ji-Eun lit up.

“Oh my god, this song is my jam!” she shouted. Nick wasn’t familiar, but the lyrics seemed to involve repeating “I see you baby, shaking that ass” over and over. “Come on, let’s dance,” Ji-Eun declared. She hopped up and pulled Nick along behind her until they were in the sweaty mosh pit of the dance floor. Nick had sobered up just slightly enough that he felt awkward shifting into dance mode, but after a minute of Ji-Eun grinding up against him, he fell into the rhythm. 

The grinding continued until the song ended and switched to another high-energy hit and Ji-Eun turned around. She reached around Nick’s waist and pulled them together, their fronts rubbing together suggestively. Her hands migrated upward, whispering along Nick’s biceps before she placed her hands on his pectorals and leaned in. Nick hesitated for only a moment before closing his eyes and tilting his head, taking Ji-Eun on his tongue and soon pushing into her mouth.

This was nice. Interesting. She was a good kisser. Good dancer. Smoking hot. 

So why wasn’t it working for Nick? He didn’t feel any electricity. He was only hot from the elevated temperature on the dance floor, not blood roaring through his veins. And his dick was… not reporting for duty.

He wanted so much to take Ji-Eun into the loo and rail her over the soapy sink. Or call an Uber and go back to hers for a night in. 

But Nick realised he wanted that intellectually, not physically. Because he’d figured out that his celibacy was throwing off his game. Not because he wanted her.

He could probably bring himself to have sex with this woman if he put his mind to it. He was a strapping young man, getting his dick to work usually wasn’t difficult. But he found he simply didn’t have the willpower. And it wouldn’t be good for Ji-Eun — either she really was interested in him, and he wasn’t really returning the vibes, or she wasn’t and she just wanted a Nick notch on her bedpost. He couldn’t envision a way that ended very well.

Nick felt a buzzing on his butt. His phone was vibrating. He pulled back from Ji-Eun and looked — it was the alarm he had set so he could be at Charlie’s by 10. Part of him wanted to just stay on that dance floor kissing a beautiful woman as his team celebrated victory around him. But Nick felt a pull out the door toward Charlie’s flat. A little bit of it was that he wanted that hat back. The rest must be that he couldn’t cede an inch to Charlie in their power struggle. If you give a mouse a cookie…

“I have to go,” he told Ji-Eun flatly.

“What? Why?” she asked, startled by the sea change.

“Early day tomorrow, you know,” Nick replied evasively. Hard to explain where he was truly headed.

Ji-Eun looked around. Christian and Kieran were doing shots, Otis appeared to have dragooned Sai and Imogen into forming a conga line for some reason, and the rest of the team were already either flailing wildly around the dance floor or practically passed out on the sidelines. Jesus, these guys were messy after victory, it wasn’t even 10 o’clock yet. 

“Treat your body like a temple, that’s what I always say,” Nick said, shrugging.

Ji-Eun played her last move. “Well, can’t I worship there?”

Nick smiled awkwardly. “Nice meeting you, see you around,” he said before dropping her hands and heading for the exit. He didn’t look back to see her reaction.

He barely noticed the wait outside in the chilly air or the short Uber drive to Charlie’s place. The next thing Nick really felt was the rapping of his knuckles on Charlie’s door.

After a few seconds he heard footsteps and a pause, probably Charlie peering through the peephole. He heard the door unlocking and then it opened just a couple inches before the handle snapped back into place and he heard Charlie walking away. Guess he was making his own way inside.

By the time he’d figured that out and pushed through, Charlie had disappeared into his little kitchen. Nick followed the sound of a spoon clinking against ceramic until he found Charlie stirring some coffee. No… hot cocoa, Nick corrected himself upon smelling the air. Bold choice for a grown man.

“Can I have my hat, please?” he asked impatiently.

Charlie hopped up on the counter and stirred the hot cocoa a bit more. “Your hat? Did you leave a hat here?” His voice was dripping with artificial nonchalance. 

“You know I did,” Nick shot back. “The one you wore to the game today.”

Charlie sipped from the mug. “Ooh, hot,” he said, smacking his lips. Then he stroked his chin like a cartoon character thinking hard. “Hat… game… ahhhh, yes, I remember now. And you claim it’s yours?”

“Obviously,” Nick huffed, stepping closer. “I left it here when I —”

Charlie quirked an eyebrow. “When you what?”

Nick looked away.

“When I fucked you?”

If that’s how Charlie wants to play it… Nick can dance.

He turned back and looked Charlie square in the eye as he stepped forward. “No, Charlie. When I fucked you like you’d never been fucked before.”

The dark-haired man’s eyes widened. That had gotten his attention.

“When I railed you good and hard, just the way you need. Isn’t that right, Charlie? Well, that’s the night I left my hat here.”

Charlie’s eyes darted down to his lips and muscular chest before meeting Nick’s gaze again. He had slowly approached Charlie’s personal space like a leopard coming through the tall grass, and now he was almost standing inside Charlie’s spread legs.

Then Charlie looked down at his face before doing a double take.

“Is that… glitter?” he asked, reaching out and poking Nick’s cheek.

“Wh — oh, I guess so,” Nick said, touching his fingers to his cheek and finding a few errant sparkles on the tips.

“Didn’t take you for the glitter and glam type,” Charlie said.

“The team went to a club after the game,” Nick explained. “There was this girl with glitter on and — anyway. Doesn’t matter.”

Charlie reacted almost imperceptibly to Nick’s explanation. He leaned back slightly, un-puffing his chest. His eyes drooped a little as he set the mug of hot cocoa on the counter.

“Anyway,” Charlie mustered. “Right. Your hat. Be right back.”

He slid off the counter as Nick jumped back in surprise at the sudden movement. The narrow kitchen space meant their hips brushed together as Charlie pushed past, and Nick raised his arms in the air defensively. Charlie walked into his bedroom, and Nick hovered outside the door, unsure that he was supposed to follow. Clearly he wasn’t, because a second later Charlie emerged and handed him the baseball cap.

“Here,” he said. “Sorry for not returning it sooner.”

Nick looked at the hat and then Charlie. What was going on? Why was he acting this way? More importantly, why did Nick care? He was the one who wanted to keep things professional. 

“Have a good night. See you Monday,” Charlie said, crossing his arms languidly and looking away from Nick.

Nick ran an instant replay in his mind and realised Charlie had turned when —

“Are you — are you mad that I kissed someone?” he asked.

Charlie continued to stare at a very interesting spot on the wall.

“I’m not.”

“Because it was just snogging. I didn’t fuck her.”

“And you’re telling me this as your PR professional because… you need a press release drafted about it?” Charlie asked, finally looking at Nick. His eyes were fiery. 

“No. I just. Wanted you to know.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “Nick, what the fuck. This is so fucking confusing. First you hate me, then we’re having some pretty hot office sex. You panic. Then you fuck me and — well, I hate to use the term ‘life-changing,’ but… and then you’re cold for weeks and then you’re hot and then you’re making out with women in clubs and — I’m just confused. I’m so, so fucking confused.”

Nick was struck mute. That was a succinct but not inaccurate summation of their relationship to date. (He may have also registered the use of the phrase “life-changing,” which was absolutely going to be something he’d think about later.)

He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. Might as well tell Charlie. “I realised today that my game has been off because of my celibacy — my self-imposed celibacy,” he tried to explain. “That’s why what happened between us happened. Just pent-up, you know, hormones.”

Charlie seemed to still be processing but Nick decided to move on before he lost his nerve. He couldn’t believe he was telling Charlie this. He would never tell Sai, or Coach Singh. But he could tell Charlie. It was a twisted sort of logic, that the one man he was trying to get away with was the only one he could talk to.

“She approached me at the club, we danced a little, snogged a while. She had on glitter, hence the transfer,” Nick said. “And I wanted to fuck her. Up here.” He pointed at his head. “But not… down there. I don’t know, I just… I don’t have a great history with hook-ups.”

Charlie snorted. “It’s sort of funny.”

“What?” Nick was lost.

“I think you have basically the opposite problem with me. You want to fuck me down here, but not up here,” he replied, pointing at the appropriate body parts.

Nick huffed. “Yeah, I guess.”

They stood awkwardly for a few moments. 

Then Nick had the idea. It was a great idea. It was also a terrible one.

He could scratch the itch without having to waste all that time finding partners, he could avoid any risky image-harming repercussions and he could skip the emotional pain since he knew this thing with Charlie wouldn’t turn into anything else. It was purely physical, and oh, lord, did they have sexual chemistry.

“So what if we… we could try being, um. Friends with benefits,” Nick finally eked out. 

Charlie’s eyebrows disappeared under the curls hanging over his forehead. 

“Friends with…”

“Benefits, yes,” Nick finished.

Charlie put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. “Um… well first off, I don’t think we’re really ‘friends.’”

“Christ,” Nick interjected, “‘people who can barely tolerate each other’ with benefits! Are you happy, you pedantic arse?”

Charlie smirked. “Not yet.” 

He surged forward, slamming into Nick and pressing their mouths together. Nick immediately opened his lips, granting Charlie entrance, and their tongues entwined, the only thing between them with no friction. Nick reached down and planted his hands on Charlie’s arse, yanking him forward until they stood flush. Charlie settled one hand on Nick’s hip and another on his bulging bicep as he licked into his mouth. 

In all of five seconds, Nick was uncomfortably hard in his jeans, and he could feel Charlie’s length pressed up against his leg as well. Fuck, this felt good.

Nick grabbed Charlie and manhandled him backwards until his calves pressed up against the front of his sofa. He broke their kiss and gently pushed Charlie backward so that he fell into the cushions with a soft little noise. Nick climbed on top of him, one leg on each side, straddling Charlie as he attacked his mouth again and then began nipping and sucking at his sharp jawline. 

“No marks,” Charlie moaned as Nick worked him over.

Nick reared back. “Shirt off,” he demanded. Charlie raised his arms and Nick grabbed the offending fabric and tugged it over his head. He shuffled back slightly so he could take in Charlie’s torso. He was lean, but he was also wiry and lithe, and frankly, it fucking worked for Nick. Charlie was so fucking hot. And his stomach… Nick barely held back a gasp as he took in the soft, milky flesh there, the barest hint of a trail leading into Charlie’s pyjama bottoms. He couldn’t wait to get his tongue on that stomach.

But Nick was going to start at the top. He kissed Charlie again, then bent down to mouth around Charlie’s collarbones, loving the sensation of the tendons there tensing at his touch. He latched on to one nipple, running his tongue along the soft areola until he felt it harden into a little pea. Nick repeated it on the other nipple, then just to the side he latched on and sucked hard, determined to mark Charlie somewhere no one would see. The little gasp he heard above him was proof it was welcome.

He worked his way south until he couldn’t bend his spine anymore, and then Nick slid onto his knees on the floor in front of Charlie, repositioning himself so he was slotted in between his long legs. Then Nick had prime access to the promised land — Charlie’s stomach. Nick wasn’t sure why, but he was immensely turned on by tummies, and Charlie had a banger. Smooth, flat, unmarked, a gorgeous peach colour, and his belly button… Nick needed to lick it.

Oh, right, he could.

Nick leaned forward and mouthed at Charlie’s navel. A hand carded through his hair as Nick kissed his way around Charlie’s stomach until he returned to the depression at its centre and stuck his tongue inside. He obviously couldn’t go very deep, only the very tip of his tongue could plumb the flesh, but Nick was so satisfied that he finally got to taste it, and the shivering he felt against his face as Charlie reacted indicated he enjoyed the experience as well.

Apparently Nick’s tum worship went on long enough that Charlie caught on.

“You got a thing for belly buttons, Nick Nelson?” he asked.

His face smeared with saliva from where it rubbed between Charlie’s stomach and his face, Nick looked up at Charlie through his eyelashes. Charlie was grinning like a little shit, so Nick decided to retaliate in kind. He lowered his mouth again to Charlie’s stomach, forming a seal with his lips, and exhaled quickly, making an abrupt and silly noise as the air escaped through cracks in the seal.

Charlie giggled riotously above him. “Oh my god, I don’t think anyone’s blown raspberries on me since I was a baby!”

Nick looked up at him with a satisfied grin. “You know, that wasn’t the only thing I want to blow.”

Charlie calmed quickly at Nick’s words and looked at him with hooded eyes.

“Really?”

Nick swallowed. “Can I suck you?”

Charlie sucked in a breath. “God, yes.”

He lifted his hips and Nick was able to stick his fingers under the waistband of his pants and pull in one fell swoop. As he pulled the fabric down, Nick’s mouth watered as the root of Charlie’s cock appeared, then more and more of the shaft, and finally the head. Freed from its cotton prison, Charlie’s long, heavy dick slowly stood upright before collapsing back against his stomach.

Nick pulled Charlie’s pants off completely. He leaned forward and mouthed his way up Charlie’s inner thigh, his mind reeling at the musky scent. Soon, Nick’s nose was bumping against Charlie’s balls. Taking the hint, Nick opened his mouth and took one onto his tongue, then sucked in the second one as well. Charlie moaned at the sensation of being enveloped in Nick’s wet heat, which he could feel translated through his body and onto his tongue. 

He let Charlie fall from his mouth as Nick eyed his ultimate prize, the 23 centimetre cock laying before him. Nick kissed and licked his way up the shaft… the long, hard shaft. Nick briefly wondered how Charlie had enough blood left in his body to maintain basic brain functions when most of it seemed to be here in his enormous dick. The thought made Nick’s aching, ignored cock twitch inside his jeans.

Once he felt his tongue flicking over the hard ridges of Charlie’s corona, Nick pulled back a second. Looking up, he saw Charlie’s head was thrown back on the sofa, exposing his pointy Adam’s apple, and Charlie was tweaking one nipple with the hand he wasn’t running through Nick’s hair. 

With Charlie’s tip still on his tongue, Nick drank in the sight, proud that he’d made such an uptight person come undone just with his mouth. 

After a few moments, Charlie seemed to realise Nick had paused his fellatio and looked down at him.

“Something wrong?”

He pulled off Charlie’s tip with a wet squelching noise.

“No. Um… I just — I’ve never done this before,” Nick said sheepishly. Oh and also, the huge cock that I’ve definitely not been dreaming about on the regular is kind of intimidating me now that it’s eye-to-eye.

Charlie smiled. “But I’m betting you’ve been sucked off before, yeah?” Nick nodded. “Okay, so then you have a rough idea of what feels good, do that.”

Nick suddenly tried to remember literally anything about technique and came up blank. At the time, he was more focused on feeling the pleasure than memorising how the other person’s tongue was moving.

“And don’t worry, you know I’ll let you know if you do anything I don’t like,” Charlie continued. “Oh, wait — also… don’t try to be a hero.”

“What?” Nick asked, confused.

Charlie sighed heavily. “I know it hasn’t gone unnoticed that I’m… ample. Don’t try to deep-throat me, okay? You’re just going to end up gagging yourself and hacking all over and frankly I don’t need that. God gave you two hands, use ’em.”

And with that, Charlie grabbed Nick by the hair and guided him back toward his cock. Time to get to work.

Nick once again enveloped Charlie’s head inside him, the salty taste spreading across his tongue as Charlie moaned lightly and gently massaged his scalp. Concentrating on breathing through his nose, Nick took more of Charlie inside his mouth, trying not to bemoan the fact that it seemed like he’d barely made a dent in the monster.

A sharp pull on his hair. “Watch the teeth,” Charlie hissed.

Oh, oops. Nick curled his lips around his incisors and resumed licking and sucking Charlie, apparently successfully. Remembering Charlie’s advice, he brought both hands up and used them to help cover the two-thirds of the shaft Nick wasn’t tasting like an amuse bouche. 

Nick sort of surprised himself with how much he was getting into it. The girls that had blown him had made it seem like such a chore. He’d always been happy to reciprocate, and enjoyed it greatly, even, using just his tongue to bring a girl apart. But he’d figured it was just because eating out a vagina was different than sucking a dick.

But Nick was genuinely getting into the spirit of having Charlie in his mouth. He liked how fully he could feel and see the effect he was having on him, how a specific twirl of his tongue over Charlie’s slit elicited an entirely new kind of groan, how his pulsing member felt in Nick’s wet heat and against his roving hands. 

Before he could really process all that, Nick felt Charlie’s cock stiffening a little and his breathing grow shallower. Nick let one hand drop off Charlie’s shaft and down to his balls. Where before they’d been hanging loosely against the sofa fabric, now they were drawn up tight against his base. Nick was pretty sure Charlie was about to come.

“I’m about to come,” Charlie gasped. No shit, Sherlock, Nick thought as he kept pursuing Charlie’s orgasm. 

Charlie yanked Nick’s hair. “Nick, seriously, if you don’t stop…”

Nick looked up at Charlie pointedly, his eyes glistening with determination. Nick tapped into all the reserves of stubbornness he had and lowered his head again. Momma didn’t raise no quitter.

His ears filled with a symphony of mewling from Charlie above him as his cock throbbed and began spouting cum into Nick’s mouth. It wasn’t a particularly great flavour — salty, mostly, though Nick felt like it had a slight hint of alkaline, like chlorine. That was unexpected. He gulped it down, though some managed to spurt out around Charlie’s shaft and smear on his jaw like the world’s worst “Got Milk?” advert. 

Finally, Charlie collapsed, melting into the sofa. Nick remembered that feeling, and was quite proud to discover he was good on both ends of a blowjob. He let Charlie fall from his mouth, his swollen appendage laying across one of Charlie’s legs. Nick watched as a couple last beads oozed from his tip before leaning down to lick them up. Okay, so the flavour was growing on him.

“Jesus,” Charlie whispered. Nick tilted his head up. “God, look at you, your mouth, all fucked out.”

His eyes hooded, Charlie reached out one hand slowly to caress Nick’s face. His fingers dipped lower until they ran across the gobs of cum stuck there. He fed his fingers to Nick, who found himself happily opening up and gently sucking his digits for a few seconds.

“Good boy,” Charlie whispered. Nick almost didn’t hear it. The tips of his ears burned.

Then Charlie cleared his throat and spoke up. “You want to…”

Nick shook his head. “Can I just… I wanna get on top of you and beat off, if that’s okay?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Charlie replied. “I’m a puddle anyway.”

Nick stood up, his knees protesting only slightly after spending so long on the carpet. He pulled his shirt over his head gracefully before quickly shucking his jeans, leaving himself nude. Nick’s cock practically weeped when it was freed from its denim prison; he could tell he wouldn’t last long, but Nick couldn’t much be fucked to care.

He stepped over and straddled Charlie again, this time both of them starkers. Nick wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking gently at first, gasping a little at the sensations. Charlie was watching the scene unfold breathlessly, his eyes no longer hooded.

Nick put one hand on the couch cushion behind Charlie’s head for better leverage and to take some of the strain off his haunches. If this also happened to bring his face closer to Charlie’s close enough that they were sharing air, then so be it.

It really only had been a couple of minutes when he felt himself pulling tight inside.

“Can I… can I come on your stomach?” Nick asked shakily. “Really want to come on your pretty stomach.”

“Fuck, okay.”

Nick stripped his cock noisily now, not holding back, until his urge filled to the brim and crested over the sides. He cried out as he painted Charlie’s stomach with his spend, the thick liquid pooling in the cute little belly button Nick had so eagerly kissed and licked earlier. 

When he next was able to have conscious thought, Nick was surprised to find himself kissing Charlie languidly. Charlie’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted up to meet Nick’s. It felt nice, so Nick kept going for a few minutes before breaking the kiss, pressing their foreheads together for a second and then leaning back. 

Looking down, Nick saw his fat cock was smearing his cum around Charlie’s stomach like a pornographic painting.

“Sorry,” he said, flustered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Charlie replied, looking down at Nick’s Jack-off Pollock.

“Um, I’ll get something to clean that up,” Nick said, pushing himself off Charlie and standing, his spent cock flopping down. “You stay there.”

“Well, duh, I can’t stand up without dripping Nelson sperm on my carpet,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. Ah yes, the bitch is back.

Nick found a small towel in the bathroom and wet it, wiping himself down before heading out to take care of Charlie. The man was melted blissfully and hummed happily when he felt the warm cloth on his stomach.

“Nick! That’s a hand towel!” Charlie suddenly shouted.

“What?” Nick asked.

“I thought you were getting a washcloth! That’s a bloody hand towel, you idiot!” 

Nick shrugged. “So? What’s the difference?”

Charlie had fire in his eyes. “One’s for cleaning up dirty stuff and one is for drying clean hands only! Now every time I clean my hands I’ll remember this towel soaked up Nick Nelson’s cum!”

Nick paused for a moment and then kept cleaning him. “Well, if it’s already fucked…”

Charlie threw his head back with a whine.

“Fuck’s sake, it’s not that big a deal, you throw your cum rags and hand towels into the same washing machine, don't you?” Nick retorted. “Where's your hamper?”

Charlie jutted toward his room with his chin, which Nick followed until he found the receptacle and tossed the towel inside. Amazing that Charlie could be so prissy right after an amazing blowjob like that, but hey, that’s why they’re, um, whatever with benefits, not boyfriends.

When he stepped back out, Charlie had pulled his clothes back on, wrapped himself in a cozy-looking blanket and returned to the kitchen, where Nick heard spoon clinking against ceramic — the abandoned and surely long-cold cocoa. Nick stepped into his discarded jeans, pulled his shirt back on and made sure to grab his baseball cap.

He hovered in the kitchen doorway.

“Thanks for the orgasm,” Charlie said, focused on reheating his cocoa in the microwave.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “Anytime.”

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Charlie replied off-handedly.

“‘Not bad!’” Nick squawked. “I think my belly full of — you know… would beg to differ.”

Charlie finally looked at him and smirked.

“I thought you athletes were all about getting protein.”

Nick rolled his eyes at the crass joke. Before he could decide how to respond, Charlie spoke again.

“Do you want some cocoa? I can make some more.”

Nick gulped. “No, I’m gonna go. Thanks, though.”

Charlie nodded slightly. “You know, Nick, the benefits don’t have to just be fucking. I mean, there’s more to physical intimacy than sex.”

Nick’s head swam. “Right. Okay, see you Monday,” he said, doing an about face and zooming out Charlie’s front door before either of them had a chance to say anything else.

Notes:

Wow, look at that descriptive rugby gameplay.

Reminder that 23 centimetres = 9 inches.

Chapter 11

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick struggles to find his mojo without his homo.

This time: Sai asks Nick a question. Then it's movie night, but an unexpected guest rains on Nick's parade.

Notes:

Thank you to beta reader KitSaidOui. Your kindness is eclipsed only by your acumen.

The Blackbirds won their next three games, and Nick and all the lads were once again floating on air as their fortunes improved. Nick was reassured to find out that sating his sexual needs had improved his performance on the field. 

It also felt fucking incredible, a fact that continued to astound him since Charlie Spring was so bloody annoying. The continued anger management lessons, strategizing about image improvement opportunities, even making better use of his official social media presence — all annoying activities. Nick begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was getting his money’s worth out of Charlie, even if he continued to be rather a prick about things outside the bedroom.

“So Nick, are you sleeping with Charlie?”

Sai’s question as they walked home from that day’s practice stunned Nick in his tracks. He literally stopped walking, his mind nothing but a blaring horn. After a few steps, Sai noticed and turned back. Nick met his eyes.

What Nick thought about: Another late-night visit to Charlie’s flat, pushing him flat on his back on his bed, kissing his aggressively before fingering him open and fucking him missionary style, their hot breath intermingling between them until they roared with climax. Nick delving a bit more into aftercare this time, even making sure to use a washcloth instead of a hand towel to avoid angering his tightness highness.

What Nick also thought about: Locking the conference room door at Hope Public Relations and falling to his knees, taking Charlie’s massive fuck stick as deep in his mouth as he could, and yet still it was nowhere deep enough. Of pumping Charlie for his release, and gobbling it down greedily, and then taking a selfie with a couple of women fans who approached him on the street on his way home, smiling in the photo with the knowledge of Charlie’s seed in his belly.

The other thing Nick thought about: An early morning text ordering him down to Cuppa’s, where Charlie took a break as soon as Nick walked through the door and pulled him back to the employee lounge. Charlie wedged the door shut and palmed Nick’s cock through his pants. Cut to Nick still clearing the sleep dust out of his eyes while slamming into Charlie, bent over the break room table, their orgasmic cries thankfully covered at the right moment by the cappuccino machine out front.

What Nick said to Sai: “Absolutely fucking not.”

Sai tilted his head almost imperceptibly, clearly not believing him.

“I’m not!” Nick lied insistently. He resumed walking, hoping to leave the topic behind them.

No such luck.

“You just seem… happier lately, is all,” Sai said, falling in beside Nick again. “Your game has improved, you’re actually smiling sometimes and cursing is down 40 percent.”

“Fuck shit damn hell pussy bitch arsehole wanker twat minger bellend, you happy?” Nick spat out.

“Please, that barely made a dent in the deficit,” Sai fired back cheerfully. “Anyway, my point was… if something were happening with Charlie, or another man, for that matter — you know I already know you’re bi, right? Like, that you like men? And thus being in a relationship with one wouldn’t faze me? That I love and support you?”

Nick sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I am not in a relationship with Charlie Spring.”

The thing was, Nick kind of wanted to tell Sai the truth, that they were fuck buddies. Nick had no problem lying to absolutely everyone else, but was finding it was actually kind of hard to lie to Sai. Something about all of Sai’s love and acceptance bullshit, of knowing he’s a safe space. 

But Sai would never understand. Nick knew he could explain until he was blue in the face that he and Charlie were just fucking, just using one another to get off, that their personalities clashed horribly and that they would never, ever be “together” like that. Sai wouldn’t understand because he was easy to love, body and soul, as proven by Imogen. Nick was different. His body may be easy to love, but the soul… no one was ever going to love that. Sai would never understand.

So it was just a physical thing. 

“Okay, okay,” Sai said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I won’t talk about Charlie Spring again the rest of the night.”

Nick nodded, satisfied. 

A while later, they arrived home.

“Immy, we’re back,” Sai called out.

“Out here!” she shouted back from the open balcony door. They were slipping into autumn, but the late afternoon sun meant it was warm enough to enjoy the outdoors still.

Sai and Nick dumped their bags at their doors as they passed before stepping out onto the balcony, where Imogen was painting the fingernails of one Charlie Fucking Spring. Charlie Spring, in his home. Charlie Spring, on his balcony. Nick’s worlds were colliding and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

Nick tried not to betray any emotion at the surprise houseguest, keeping his face perfectly neutral as he took in those frustratingly gorgeous curls, the sharp lines of Charlie’s face and jawline in the setting sun, and his hands, those talented hands, currently getting their tips painted a light purple.

“Sai!” Charlie yelped excitedly. “I’d hug you but, you know.” He jutted his head down toward his wet fingernails.

“I’ll adapt!” Sai said, stepping around behind Charlie and carefully wrapping his arms around his torso from behind, their heads bumping against each other. 

After he stepped back, Charlie finally looked at Nick.

“Nicholas.” His voice was perfectly even.

“Charles,” Nick replied in the same steady voice. 

“You boys play nice,” Imogen said mockingly, looking between the two of them. Despite his best efforts, Nick flashed a sourpuss look at her teasing, which only encouraged her further. “Nick, want me to paint your nails, too?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

He shook his head no and sat back down in the living room inside to scroll through Insta on his phone. Charlie, Sai and Imogen all chatted affably on the balcony, their chatter punctuated with comfortable laughter. 

Nick locked his phone and let his head fall back on the cushion as he let himself imagine joining the three of them, laughing along with his friends, making jokes and sharing details about their day. Like how Christian tried to pants Kieran in the locker room that afternoon as a prank, but forgot Kieran had a small mirror set up in his cubby since he fussed with his hair so much, and so Christian ended up with a knee to the groin for his efforts. For Nick’s money, that was much funnier anyway.

Nick had actually relaxed a bit when Imogen stepped through the door.

“Good news, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She didn’t even slow down. “Charlie is staying for dinner!”

“Whoop-de-freakin’-do,” Nick replied, though his response lacked any sting. Nick stood and stretched, glancing out the glass door to look at Charlie, whose fingers were spread out on the table drying as Sai told him something that made both men chuckle. Charlie glanced over and noticed Nick watching him, then shot him a wink from the side of his face Sai couldn’t see.

Little shit.

“Come on, come help,” Imogen said from the kitchen, where she was pulling food out of the refrigerator.

“You want my help?” Nick asked. He’d offered to cook sometimes, but Imogen usually preferred Sai at her side in the kitchen. Mostly for canoodling reasons, because Nick was a much better sous chef than Sai.

“Yup,” Imogen replied. “Unless you want to go entertain Charlie.”

Nick growled a little. Overkill, sure, but he was terrified of letting some fleeting glance reveal to Sai and Imogen that he was, indeed, fucking Charlie. It was purely a fuck-buddies situation, and the two of them would run rampant with speculation about mutual pining and enemies-to-lovers and all the other silly tropes Imogen liked reading about.

Nick got about preparing the salmon fillets for roasting — some people liked dumping a lot of spices on, but Nick knew that good salmon only needed some salt and pepper. He finished while the oven was still preheating, so Nick turned and got his next task from Imogen, chopping veg to steam. He was just cutting up some cauliflower florets when Sai and Charlie pulled up stools to the bar counter that connected the kitchen and living room and began watching the chefs in action.

“See, dinner and a show,” Sai said to Charlie, drawing a nod.

“I had no idea Nick could cook,” Charlie replied.

“Not only cook — he bakes like a motherfucker,” Imogen said.

Nick pinked up a bit but ignored them and kept chopping.

“Really?” asked Charlie. “Maybe I should get him on one of the morning shows. He could do BBC Breakfast. I can see it now…” Charlie moved his hand in front of him like it was displaying a chyron. “‘Nick Nelson’s lemon loaf.’ You’d have women across the UK wetting themselves.”

Now Nick was full on blushing.

“I’m really not that good a baker,” he mumbled.

“Jar!” Sai shouted.

Nick looked up and stopped chopping. “Oh, come on! That was just standard humility!”

Sai shook his head. “If and when you’re ever humble about your athletic ability or your god-given looks, I’ll let it slide. But otherwise, put a quid in the self-deprecation jar, please.”

Nick huffed and walked out of the kitchen and around the corner into his bedroom. He emerged a moment later with the coin — he didn’t carry one-pound coins on him because it’s 2023 and he rarely uses cash, so he had to specially go to the god damn bank for coins to have on hand just for the god damn jar — and then slipped it inside to the tell-tale clank.

When he turned around, he caught a glimpse of something in Charlie’s eyes in the split second before he looked down at his hands. Probably pity that Nick let himself be manhandled like a child by Sai and Imogen. Sometimes he felt like they wanted to give him a spanking and send him to his room. Well, knowing those kinky fucks, the spanking part might actually be true.

If there was one thing Nick wanted less than to be hated, it was for Charlie to pity him. Sad little Nick with his sad little no-no jar. 

Nick quickly tamped down those thoughts. If he got morose, he was more likely to gather more penalties. Once with the self-deprecation jar was quirky. Twice in one night was pathetic.

He busied himself with setting the table, removing himself a bit from the group and the conversation, which moved on to a discussion ranking the men of White Lotus. Nick focused on the trigonometry of it all — evenly placing the four plates, napkin folded on the left, fork on top of that, knife then spoon on the right. Nick sometimes wondered if he had low-grade obsessive-compulsive disorder, because between that and his requirement that the television volume always be an even number, it seemed perhaps Nick veered slightly into neurospicy, a term he’d seen thrown around on the internet and liked.

He’d finished but hadn’t drawn the attention of the others. Nick stood where none could see him, though he could see Sai and Charlie’s backs on their stools looking into the kitchen. Nick let himself watch Charlie, looking at his little hunch, how his shoulders shook when he giggled. 

It struck him that in many ways, Charlie fit into his world, when you defined the world as Nick’s only two real friends. Imogen and Sai already loved Charlie, and Charlie them, clearly. If Nick were inclined — and he weren’t — it would be easy to speculate about being together, doing all the couple things that he knew Imogen and Sai wanted to do with Nick but couldn’t. 

Of course, that burst immediately the second they stepped beyond the confines of this flat. The real world waited beyond, and Nick the professional athlete could never be with a man. That stupid flower thing was enough of a headache. Imagine if everyone on Sky Sports was talking about the rugby prince and his twink lover. 

“Nick?”

Imogen’s voice snapped him out of his thought process. Nick realised he had been staring angrily at the wall as his thoughts spiralled. Apparently he’d been unresponsive at least once, since Imogen had stepped around the doorway to see him and Charlie and Sai were leaning back a bit on their stools to see him, their brows ever so slightly furrowed.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, shaking his head a bit.

“He didn’t get hit in the head today, did he?” Imogen earnestly asked Sai, who shook his head no.

“I’m fine,” Nick insisted. “You need me?”

Imogen looked at him for a moment, studying his face. “Check the salmon, love?”

Nick nodded and shimmied past her to reach the stove, grabbing the electronic meat thermometer his mother had gotten him when he first lived on his own in uni. He busied himself with dinner preparation, studiously ignoring the twin laser beams he could feel burrowing into the back of his head. 

They sat down to eat together, Sai to Nick’s left and Charlie to his right.

Imogen and Sai were busy for a while talking about how they met and their respective families. Nick was generally silent, nodding along and providing the occasional confirmation but contributing little and focusing on his meal.

“Okay, enough about us,” Imogen finally said, patting Charlie on the hand. “I want to know more about the great Charlie Spring.”

Charlie laughed but it rang hollow. “There’s not much to know, I’m afraid.”

“Babe, there’s no way that’s true,” Imogen said. “Come on… how about siblings, got any of those?”

Charlie nodded. “I have a sister Tori, a year older. She lives in America with her… I honestly don’t know, partner, I guess. She refused to put a label on it. Her… Michael.” Nick let his eyes flick up to Charlie’s face; he was staring determinedly at the bread basket while speaking. “And my brother Olly is much younger than me — he’s still in school, lives with my parents.”

“Kent, right? Just like Nick?”

Charlie nodded. “Our schools were sort of rivals. You know, if the other school creaming our teams on the regular can be considered a rivalry. Not that I ever paid much attention to sport. Too many lunkheads. Present company excluded of course.”

Sai and Imogen chuckled.

“No, there are some pretty big lunkheads on the team,” Sai said. 

“Are you able to get back and see your family much?” Imogen asked. “The train’s so bloody expensive now… but still, only a couple of hours.”

Nick furrowed his brow. He hadn’t gotten the full picture, but that first time they’d gotten ice cream and talked, back in the summer heat, Charlie had talked about a bad relationship with his parents, or at least his mother. It was why he’d taken this job working for his ex-boyfriend that apparently sucked big ones, hours from home and for minimum wage. 

He hadn’t mentioned this to Sai and Imogen? It was surprising, since he’d shared it fairly readily with Nick, and he obviously liked his roommates much better than he did Nick.

“I’d like to see Olly more… but it’s hard to get back.”

Charlie’s damp statement was enough to ward Sai and Imogen off any further questions on that topic. They deftly navigated away to other topics until their plates were all empty.

“Okay, Charlie, you’re staying for movie night, right?” Imogen said, clapping excitedly.

“Oh… I don’t—”

“Please please please!” Imogen yelped. “It’ll annoy Nick… you know how you like to annoy Nick…”

Charlie leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk spreading across his face. He looked Nick squarely in the eye. “That is true,” he said.

Nick shrugged. “No skin off my back.”

Imogen stood up. “Great! Sai and Charlie, you get the film set up — Sai, you know which one I picked. Nicky, help me clear the dishes.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nick replied as he began stacking plates. He wondered why Imogen was picking him as her helper tonight instead of Sai; probably just to keep him and Charlie from clashing and Charlie stomping off. 

Ten minutes, a scour pad and a damp kitchen towel later, the dishes were done and the popcorn came out of the microwave and into two bowls. Nick flicked off the overhead lights as Imogen went to settle in, leaving them with just a couple small lamps and the glow of the television. When he got back, the only spot left was next to Charlie on the sofa. Nick stopped himself from sighing as he settled in, feeling some warmth from the man next to him.

“Popcorn?”

The bowl in Charlie’s hand revealed they were sharing snacks tonight.

"What kind?" Nick asked.

"It's a mix," Charlie replied. "Salty and sweet."

Nick just hummed and took a few kernels, popping them in his mouth as he turned to look at the screen.

“Sweet Home Alabama! Oh, come on,” he moaned, flecks of popcorn flying out and sticking to his lips, which he licked to collect before swallowing.

“Let me guess… no romance movies?” Charlie said mockingly. “You only do Marvel and sport films?”

“Nooo…” Nick replied. “I just think if we’re going to watch an early aughts Reese Witherspoon movie it should be Legally Blonde.”

“You like Legally Blonde?” Charlie said, agape.

Nick twisted to look at Charlie more directly. “What, like it’s hard?”

Charlie’s jaw dropped open as Sai and Imogen giggled.

“Nick’s only made us watch that like four times in the past year,” Sai said, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “You gotta branch out into the rest of Reese’s oeuvre, mate.”

“Well, excuse me for liking quality cinema,” Nick said, sitting with his nose turned up slightly. 

“He does it with Mean Girls, too,” Imogen said, prompting more giggling. “But I know that’s just because he likes Rachel McAdams.”

Jonathan Bennett, too, he can ask what day it is anytime, Nick thought, but he couldn’t make that joke because Imogen and Sai weren’t supposed to know Charlie knows that Nick is bi. All this who-knows-and-doesn’t-know what stuff was really starting to become a headache now they were all in the same room.

They settled into the film, and Nick was pleased when he realised it was the enemies-to-lovers trope. Or, rather, lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers. Those stories were always so much juicier than straightforward romances: miscommunication, taunting and teasing, anger transmuting into passion. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up. That was just in movies. Things didn’t work that way in real life.

On a couple occasions, Nick’s hand touched Charlie’s when he went for another handful of popcorn from their joint bowl. The first couple of times, he yanked it back like he’d brushed against a hot hob. But he felt like a tool, reacting like that. So the next time they bumped up against each other, he didn’t react at all, just calmly grabbed some popcorn and kept his eyes fixed squarely on the screen. 

As the credits rolled and he fought back a yawn, Nick had to admit that Sweet Home Alabama was a pretty good one. Not Legally Blonde good, but at least on par with Pleasantville.

He was about to say as much when he looked over and saw Imogen passed out cold. Girl couldn’t have a whole glass of wine at dinner without socking out during the very film she had picked!

“Immy, come on, gotta wake up so we can go to bed,” Sai mumbled, shaking her arm as Imogen stirred. Sai managed to pull her to her feet, though her eyes never opened. Imogen mumbled something that probably meant good night as she shuffled off as Sai pulled her toward his room, shutting the door behind them. 

Nick suddenly realised it was late and he was standing there with Charlie in the darkened living room. This was dangerous for so many reasons. Any given situation with the two of them alone together was basically fifty-fifty whether they’d rip each other apart or each other’s clothes off.

“So.”

“So.”

Nick stood rubbing one arm; Charlie had one hand behind his back and was balanced on one foot, his other leg crossed over to the side.

“Did you want to —”

“Well good night.”

Nick’s fumbled farewell drowned out whatever Charlie had been about to ask. The curly haired man looked like he was about to complete his thought, but then his eyes dimmed and he shook his head imperceptibly.

“Sorry I crashed movie night,” he said. “It was honestly better than my roommates’ movie nights… he always picks the most pretentious crap.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah.” What the fuck was he supposed to say? Sorry your roommate is a douchebag?

“Well. Anyway. Good night.” Charlie turned and walked down the little hallway to their front door, stopping at their closet to grab his coat. He paused very briefly with his hand on the knob before he turned it, stepped into the hallway and disappeared.

He was finally gone, and Nick could settle. Only something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Nick wandered out onto the balcony. It was rather chilly now as it approached midnight, and it had begun raining at some point, practically a torrent. Nick wrapped his arms around himself for warmth as he stood looking out into the damp darkness. Stepping up to the railing — there was an overhang so he was only getting some drizzle on him — Nick looked down and saw Charlie zipping down the pavement. He was hidden under an umbrella, but Nick recognized the Converse reflected in the yellowed lamplight. 

He didn’t understand why he did it, but as he watched Charlie turn the corner, Nick suddenly turned and ran. He stuffed his feet into his Vans, opened and closed the front door as quietly as possible and then was off. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella, so within seconds of stepping out from his building’s portico he was soaked to the bone, but he could barely feel it.

Blood thundered past his ears as his feet slapped against the pavement. Before Charlie had gotten two more blocks, Nick caught up with him.

“Nick!” Charlie said, startled. 

“Hi,” Nick sputtered as he caught his breath.

“Hi…” Charlie replied. “Did I forget something?”

Nick stood upright, having recovered enough lung capacity. He was built for sprints anyway.

“Um. Yeah.”

Impulsively, he stepped forward under the umbrella and wrapped one palm around the nape of Charlie’s neck, and kissed him. He felt Charlie resist at first, but it was clearly just reactive to the surprise and the fact that Nick was soaking wet. A couple of seconds in, Charlie melted into it, and suddenly the umbrella had fallen to the side and they were both completely waterlogged.

After a few more seconds, Nick pulled back. His hand dropped from Charlie’s neck, following the contour of his arm until it fell into Charlie’s hand. Their grip was slippery, but Nick held tight and pulled Charlie after him back toward his flat. Through the deluge, into his building, up the stairs and — again, quietly — through the front door, which Nick locked behind him. 

Neither man spoke a word. They entered Nick’s room and shut that door, as well. Immediately, Charlie shoved Nick up against the wall and attacked his face, kissing him a little before licking the droplets from his skin and nipping along his jawline. Their bodies pressed together, and Nick could feel that increasingly familiar lump in Charlie’s trousers. 

He could also feel Charlie shivering a little, and he realised it wasn’t from want.

“You need to get out of these wet clothes,” Nick said, grabbing the hem of Charlie’s jumper and pulling it up and over his head.

“And whose fucking fault is that?” Charlie said as he crossed his arms and pulled his own shirt off, and oh, Nick was committing the sight of his lithe torso twisting as Charlie struggled to escape the restrictive, sopping fabric to memory. “Couldn’t have just asked for a fuck before I went out in the rain.”

Realising chill was also setting in for him, Nick began unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down, his erection springing free. 

“You’re more than welcome to go back out there,” he fired back as they each removed their last articles of clothing. 

“Oh no,” Charlie said. “You got me cold, you’re damn well gonna warm me up.”

He placed his hand on Nick’s chest and pushed him backward until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he plopped backward onto the bed. Charlie pounced, mounting Nick and kissing him again before he worked his way south. Nick felt him start to suck on a particularly sensitive spot on his chest and suddenly realised he’d be shirtless in the locker room in the morning. While he could play it off for the rest of the guys, Sai would surely put two and two together.

“No marks,” he moaned.

Charlie shrugged and unlatched himself, moving on. After letting Charlie worship his body for a while, Nick grabbed him and rolled them over before doing much the same, once again paying special attention to Charlie’s belly. Nick didn’t know why, but the flat, pale plane called to him like a siren song.

Eventually, impatient, the two men began grinding against one another, cock against cock, hot flesh chafing until their leaking appendages smoothed things out and the glide became pleasant and sensational.

Nick had never done this before… what was the term? He tried to remember from the porn he’d watched. Cottage… frottage, that was it. Holy shit, frottage felt fucking amazing. Of course, Nick really enjoyed all the other sex stuff they’d done, but he was surprised at how good rubbing dicks felt. 

They flipped a few more times as they humped, genitals flapping and slapping and gasps and groans flooding the room. Thankfully, this movement didn’t make Nick’s bed slam against the wall, and he hoped their other sounds didn’t carry through the vents, or if they did that Imogen and Sai were too zonked to wake up and hear them.

Finally, they ended up with Nick on top, his strong rugby hand wrapped about their two cocks, stripping their lengths. Well. His whole length, and the majority of Charlie’s. Nick was pleased to note he didn’t feel bad that Charlie outdid him in the cock length department. Perhaps it was partly ameliorated by the fact that Nick was thicker, particularly around his base. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that this was fucking hot as hell. 

Nick had been staving off an orgasm for a couple of minutes, perpetually on the edge but miraculously managing to avoid it, when he felt Charlie’s breathing hitch.

“So close, Nick, fuck,” he moaned, his voice as strained as his clavicles as he clenched and writhed beneath Nick.

“Cum for me, then,” Nick grunted. “Fucking cum, Charlie!”

Charlie’s eyes rolled back a bit and his whole body went stiff like lumber as his cock twitched and shot hot white ropes onto his belly. A couple of shots landed on his chest, which certainly wasn’t as well defined as Nick’s but that was delightful nonetheless, where it slid back down to the shallow pool forming in the shallow basin of flesh just under his ribcage.

The sight and feel and sound of Charlie going over the edge finally undid Nick, and he tried not to collapse on top of Charlie as his own cock erupted a second flow of cum onto Charlie’s chest and stomach. Nick recovered enough at the end to watch a few last drops pearl on his slit and drip off onto Charlie’s own dick beneath.

Each man sounded like he’d run a marathon, bodies heaving. If they’d been cold before, it was the opposite problem now. The heat positively poured off them, much like when Nick had opened the over earlier to check the salmon.

Nick leaned back on his haunches and looked down at the cum-coated Charlie.

“You look like the world’s palest toaster strudel,” he said, grinning.

Charlie raised his head and looked at the white smears all over his torso. “Jesus Christ, you really made a mess, didn’t you.”

“Me?” Nick squawked. “It is, at best, half my fault.”

“Dammit,” Charlie said, his head falling back on the pillow. “The worst person I know just made a great point.”

Nick dismounted and grabbed a box of tissues from his bedside table, using a handful to sop up the spend from Charlie’s stomach. Despite his best efforts, he was still rather a dirty mess.

“Can I… shower?” Charlie asked. “Sorry, just don’t want to smell like sex in the morning.”

“Yeah. Through there,” Nick replied, pointing through his closet to the bathroom door. Nick definitely didn’t watch Charlie’s ass sway as he stood and walked away, little creases forming and disappearing along the bottom of his buttocks as his legs moved. 

Charlie closed the door part way and Nick listened to the sound of water running for a few moments before he realised Charlie wouldn’t have anything to dry off with but Nick’s regular towel, which he probably hadn’t washed in… three weeks? 

Grimacing, Nick hopped up and fetched a spare towel from the upper shelf in his closet. He knocked lightly on the bathroom door. 

“Charlie? Just leaving you a fresh towel,” he said, tossing it onto the closed toilet seat lead.

“Thanks,” Charlie responded, and Nick ducked out.

Stepping back out into his room, Nick’s left foot landed on something cold and wet — Charlie’s soaked jumper. Nick slipped on a robe, gathered up Charlie’s soaked clothes and quietly stepped out into the kitchen. He removed Charlie’s phone and wallet, then stuffed the wet bundle into their dryer, set the timer and made sure to turn off the end-of-cycle alarm. 

Returning to his room, Nick slipped on a pair of blue boxer-briefs and a black tank top and sat on the bed. Charlie had apparently made it a quick shower, because he emerged shortly after with the towel slung low around his hips. The dick print was painfully obvious through the terrycloth — and that was soft, Nick thought hungrily. Why was such an amazing cock attached to such a twit? 

“Where are my clothes?” Charlie asked, looking around.

“In the dryer,” Nick replied. “Your phone and wallet are on the bedside table.”

“Fuck, now I’m stuck here until they’re dry,” Charlie moaned.

Nick pointed to his dresser. “I think most of my clothes would fall off you but you can borrow some underwear if you like.”

Charlie shuffled over to the dresser. “Thanks,” he said plainly as he opened the drawer and fished around, finally pulling out a pair of purple boxers and sliding them on under the towel, which he then tossed on the floor.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments until Nick threw back the sheet and patted the bed beside him. Charlie eyed Nick warily.

“Come on, don’t be a knob,” Nick said, patting the mattress more firmly. “Someone once told me there’s more to physical intimacy than just sex.”

Charlie sighed and shrugged before stepping over and crawling under the covers beside Nick.

“Fine,” he said, adjusting the duvet around him. “I wake up early anyway, so I can be out of here before everyone is up.”

“Oh, do you open Cuppa’s tomorrow?”

“No, I just — I naturally wake up early when I’m not in my own bed, is all,” Charlie replied.

Nick hummed. “So… cuddle? Share our warmth?”

Charlie looked him over once before nodding. 

“Hey, uh. Weird request,” Nick added. “If you want to say no, fine. But… I was wondering if maybe. Um. I could be little spoon?”

Charlie looked at him strangely. “Yeah, sure. Why is that a weird request?”

“Oh, I just… I’ve never gotten the chance,” Nick said. “My past partners always assumed I’d want to be the big spoon, I guess.”

Charlie tutted.

“With an arse like that it’s a real shame,” he said. “All that cake, and no one’s putting it to good use?”

Nick blushed, but covered by turning around and flicking his lamp off, plunging them into darkness. There was noise as the two men shuffled around, arranging themselves on their sides, until Nick finally reached behind him and just grabbed Charlie and yanked him forward, pressing their bodies together. Charlie wiggled around a bit more and then slid one arm over Nick’s torso. Nick liked having something, or someone, warm plastered against his back, and the smell of his own body wash wafting off Charlie lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 12

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Sai asked Nick a question. An unexpected guest at movie night rains on Nick's parade.

This time: Nick and Charlie sleep in. Nick's charity auction buyer throws him a curveball. And Tao finally makes an appearance!

Notes:

I am once again thanking KitSaidOui for his beta reading expertise. I'm beyond lucky to count him as a friend and collaborator.

“Nick, wake up, mate! Breakfast!”

Nick was ripped into consciousness by Sai knocking on his door and shouting. As he squinted, he realised that, one, Charlie was in his bed, and two, they’d switched in the night, and now Nick was holding Charlie’s back against his front. The dark coils piled on the pillow in front of him shifted as Charlie also awoke.

“Yeah… yeah, be right out,” Nick called out, his voice gravelly. 

Charlie suddenly started flopping about. “Holy shit, what time is it?” he squawked.

Nick hushed him, hoping Sai had already walked away from his door.

“Keep your voice down, the kitchen’s right there,” Nick whispered, pointing to the opposite wall from his bed. He reached over and plucked his phone from the bedside table. “It’s 8:30.”

“Fuck,” Charlie cursed. “Fuck fuck. I never sleep in after a hook-up. I gotta get to work — where are my clothes?”

Nick grimaced. “Er. In the dryer. In the kitchen. Where Sai and Imogen are.”

Charlie rolled his eyes hard and flopped back on his pillow, moaning lowly.

“I thought you said you didn’t have to open Cuppa’s today,” Nick said quietly as he slid into a shirt and shorts. 

“My day job, duh?” Charlie asked.

“Can you be late to that? Wait until we all leave and then you can leave? I’m sure Imogen will be out of here when we are.”

Charlie huffed. “I can probably get away with it. Not like Ben comes in before 11 anyway.”

Figures, Nick thought. 

“Well, if you do get caught, you can say you were with a client. And it wouldn’t even be a lie!”

“Har bloody har,” Charlie said.

“Okay,” Nick said, “lay low, I’ll eat quickly and we’ll all be gone before you know it.”

Charlie frowned and turned his attention to his phone. Okay then.

Imogen and Sai were halfway done with their eggs and toast when Nick emerged and joined them. He exchanged quick pleasantries, eyed Charlie’s clothes in the dryer that they thankfully hadn’t noticed, and then started wolfing down his eggs, which were only lukewarm at this point.

“Whoa, Nick, we’re not in that big a rush,” Sai said. “You gotta chew your food!”

Nick paused with around a third of the plate left. He realised Charlie would need breakfast, and it would be pretty odd to carry a plate into his bedroom. Nick decided to leave the rest in the fridge; Charlie could reheat it.

“Nick, you can eat the rest, I wasn’t, like, shaming you there,” Sai said as Nick grabbed a plastic container and dumped the rest of his eggs in. 

“Just fill up fast, is all,” Nick said, shrugging. “I’ll eat the rest later. It was great, thanks Immy.”

Imogen nodded wordlessly, eyeing Nick.

“Something’s different,” she said, standing and approaching him.

“What?” Nick asked, trying not to flop sweat.

“Did you do something to your hair?”

Nick’s eyes dart up toward his hairline. “Just haven’t combed it yet today.”

Imogen hummed in acceptance but kept looking Nick up and down.

She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You wanked off last night, didn’t you? Oh, you bisexual disaster!”

Nick’s jaw dropped and he immediately turned red. Sai laughed a little from his seat, mostly from shock.

“How did you — oh god, no, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I thought I heard a little moaning last night,” Imogen said. “Oh, you dog. Also, uh, you kind of smell like… you know.”

Nick wrinkled his nose and stepped back.

“Oh god, Imogen!”

She just giggled and kept steamrolling him.

“Just a little whiff, don’t worry… So, who got you all horned up? Was it Reese Witherspoon or Josh Lucas or Patrick Dempsey? Wait wait, or Melanie Lynsky??

Nick rolled his eyes and pushed past Imogen. “I think I’d better take a quick shower before we —” he said.

“Fine, but not a long one,” Sai replied, checking the time on his phone. “Coach needs us in early today.”

Nick closed the door to his room and stepped in to see Charlie lounging in bed, tapping away at his phone. The little twist Nick felt in his gut was surely just the anxiety he felt about Sai or Imogen discovering Charlie there. Definitely not delight at seeing a handsome man in his bed.

Fuck.

Nick peeled off his shirt. “I left some scrambled eggs in the fridge for you, you can reheat them once we leave,” he whispered.

Charlie only stared at Nick in return.

“Or if you don’t like eggs, we have, you know, cereal, or really just eat anything you want,” Nick said, feeling awkward. 

Charlie nodded, and Nick walked into his closet and shucked off his shorts and underwear. He hesitated just for a second with Charlie right there, but, you know, he’d been inside the guy, so apparently they’d already crossed the nudity bridge. Naked, Nick stepped into his bathroom and turned the shower on. As he waited for the water to warm up, he looked out and caught Charlie watching him. Nick turned and wiggled his hips a bit, making his cock flop back and forth. Charlie actually licked his fucking lips, and Nick could feel his dick swelling. He decided to hop in the shower before the water was quite warm enough.

He had performed a quick scrub to wash last night’s sex smell off his body when he heard a tiny knock at the door. It was Charlie, peeking around the wood at Nick in the shower, and the half-chub he’d been sporting since he hopped in quickly began inflating further. Nick kind of wished his body didn’t react so easily way to Charlie.

He watched as Charlie shucked the purple boxers he’d borrowed for the night, then slid back the glass door and stepped in with him.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked, as if it weren’t clear.

“I know you said you left me some breakfast, but… I’m hungry now.”

Charlie waggled his eyebrows once and then fell to his knees in the tub as Nick’s jaw dropped. Some of the water cascaded over his shoulders and began falling on Charlie like a warm version of last night’s torrential rain. Charlie looked up at Nick through adorable eyelashes seeking permission, and Nick quickly nodded.

He huffed and groaned as his cock was enveloped in Charlie’s wet heat. Charlie wasted no time with pleasantries, and soon was licking and gently sucking Nick to the root. Nick’s knees weakened when he felt Charlie begin to massage his balls with one hand. Then Nick had to brace himself against the wall and the bar over the shower doors when he felt Charlie’s wet hand trace along his perineum and begin circling his rim, sending sparks up his spine. 

It had only been a few minutes when Nick felt the familiar stirrings of an orgasm, but he didn’t try to hold back. He was on the clock, and Charlie was apparently absolutely famished by the way he was chasing Nick’s seed.

“Char… so close… about to cum,” Nick managed to utter as his whole body vibrated.

Charlie looked up at Nick, his face covered with droplets of water, his curly rings darkened and lying flatter against his head as they were once again soaked. Their eyes were still locked until Nick crested and clenched his eyelids shut, spilling down Charlie’s throat. Nick bit his own wrist in an effort to dampen his moans, though he surely still made some noise.

Nick was still coming down from his high when he heard Sai call out.

“Nick, come on, man, stop whacking off, we gotta go!”

Fuck. Sai had clearly come into his bedroom because Nick was taking so long. A few more steps…

“Don’t come in here!” Nick shouted. At his feet, Charlie shook with silent laughter at the silly situation.

“Nick, I’ve seen you naked like a hundred times,” Sai replied. “Why do you think Imogen and I keep trying to seduce you into a threesome?”

His skin already red under the warm shower water, Nick blushed even further. He looked down at Charlie, whose face was as close an approximation to the “🤯” emoji as Nick had ever seen in real life.

“Yes, at work, Sai, not at home,” Nick finally responded.

“Whatever, don’t worry, I can’t see you,” Sai replied. “Just get your arse moving, okay?”

“Five minutes, I swear,” Nick said.

“Fine,” Sai replied, and Nick heard his bedroom door close a few moments later.

Charlie rose from his knees, giving Nick the biggest shit-eating grin.

“They’re a cute couple, you should totally go for it,” Charlie said jocularly.

“Oh Jesus, not you, too,” Nick moaned. “Can you cum quickly? I don’t want to be rude and leave you hanging.”

“Actually, I, uh, already finished,” Charlie said. He looked down sheepishly, and Nick followed his gaze to where there was some jizz on his right foot. He hadn’t even felt it with all the water.

“Wow,” Nick said jokingly. “Didn’t know you were one of those foot fetishists.”

Charlie scoffed and pushed Nick gently. Nick laughed and manoeuvred his foot under the stream directly, watching Charlie’s spend slide off and swirl away down the drain. After giving his junk another pass, Nick turned off the spray, and both men stepped out of the shower. Nick gave himself a thorough dry, but Charlie just rubbed down his hair and patted around his body before tossing the towel aside and flopping down on Nick’s bed naked, stretching his long limbs before placing his hands behind his head in a gesture of relaxation. Nick realised that, ironically, if Charlie had still been in bed instead of blowing Nick in the shower, Sai would have accidentally discovered him.

Sex saved the day once again.

It took Nick only a few minutes to throw on some athletic wear and pack what he’d need for the day in his duffel. He sat down on the bed beside Charlie.

“Okay, your clothes are in the dryer, egg’s in the fridge… um… oh.” He stood and fished a pair of spare keys out of a little basket on his dresser. “Spare keys so you can lock up. I’ll get them back next time I see you.”

“Okay,” Charlie replied.

Nick stood awkwardly. What was the proper protocol here? His more gentlemanly instincts were telling him to go kiss Charlie, but they didn’t kiss outside of sex. And that would imply something more than “friends, or whatever, with benefits.” So Nick settled for a weird little wave before he turned and marched out the door.

All Nick could think about the rest of the morning was the image of a nude Charlie relaxing in his bed. And he didn’t hate it.

 

***

 

It had been a while since the charity auction, and the woman who had “bought” Nick, Cora Davenport, finally got in touch about their “date.” Nick had been told it was all pretty basic — dinner, maybe a little dancing, and a drop off home with a fond farewell.

Cora had other plans.

Nick had barely spoken to her the night of the auction; she outbid everyone there, paid and left after telling him she’d let him know when she needed him. Those were her words, “needed him.” Weeks had passed, and Nick had almost forgotten about it, when he one day returned to the locker room to find a message from Charlie.

Charlie Spring [16:23]:your charity auction date sent details. she wants you to escort her to a family function on Sunday.

Charlie Spring [16:23]: is that okay? i saw you’re not playing Sunday. And it saves you the cost of a night out.

It seemed fine to Nick. Maybe this was just some way to get a sports figure to show up to her family gathering. Big Blackbirds fans, perhaps. Basically a meet-and-greet and he could scarper, Nick actually liked the sound of it.

Too bad it didn’t play out that way.

First, the address Nick Ubered to was a fucking mansion. Like a legitimate mansion. With a butler or whatever who answered the door.

“I… uh… I’m looking for Cora Davenport?” Nick asked uncertainly.

The butler (did people even use that title anymore, Nick wondered) simply turned and walked away. After a second, Nick sprung into a jog to catch up. He was led through a grand foyer and into some sort of parlour full of antique-looking furniture and real oil paintings. Everything looked too expensive and fragile to touch, and Nick suddenly became unusually aware of his hulking frame as he drew his arms in closer to his sides. The last thing he needed was to knock over and smash some little object that belonged to Queen Victoria or something. There were many people shuffling about the house.

“Ms. Davenport,” the butler said, getting the attention of the woman Nick recognized from the auction. She was in her late 20s, with long blonde hair and fair features. Cora wore a lovely blue dress and some jewellery that Nick was pretty sure cost more than his annual salary.

“Nicholas!” she cried out, turning to face him. “Oh, finally, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”

Nick crinkled his brow. He had arrived precisely when her instructions specified.

“I’m sorry, there must have been some mix-up —”

“Never mind that now, I forgive you,” Cora said somewhat loudly as she sidled up and slid one arm around Nick’s. “Come now, let’s get a drink.”

He dumbly followed her out of that room and into another, where a couple of bartenders were mixing drinks. Had Nick already fucked up somehow? He was on edge immediately.

“I’ll have a kir royale,” Cora told one of the bartenders. “Nick?”

Nick was too worked up to think properly about a drink order. “I… red wine?” He figured it was something that would look good while he sipped it since he would not be getting impaired at this thing.

Cora turned back to the bartender. “Give him a glass of the ’01 Château Margaux.”

Nick didn’t know what that was exactly, but the words sounded expensive, and 2001 was almost as old as he was, so Nick could only imagine how expensive that bottle must be.

“Um… Ms. Davenport, what’s going on?” Nick asked quietly.

“Cora, please,” she said, guiding Nick to a quiet corner while their drinks were made. “Listen, I know I’m really springing this on you, but, er, I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Nick’s eyes bulged. “You need what?!” 

“I know, it sounds like something out of a rom-com, right?” Cora said mirthfully. “But don’t worry, I do not expect or even want you to fall in love with me.”

Nick used every ounce of self-control he had not to roll his eyes. He had half a mind to leave immediately, but he worried about the optics if he stood up his charity auction winner. And he had sort of agreed to this… 

“Why? Why do you need a fake boyfriend? Why me?”

“Because I’ve been single for a little too long and my family has started making pointed remarks. I thought a nice rising star athlete as arm candy would shut everyone up for a while,” Cora said, her eyes scanning the crowd behind Nick. “Really — I just need to get them off my backs. So — just pretend to be my boyfriend for today, they’ll be mollified and and I can coast on this for months before I tell them we’ve broken up. I’m not asking for a long-term commitment.” 

This was definitely setting off alarm bells for Nick. Why spring this on him? Why not tell him about it beforehand? He was going in completely cold, knowing nothing about this woman or her family or the situation. Red flags galore. But Nick was here and already ensnared in the trap.

“What do I do when they ask questions I don’t know the answer to? Like… how we met? Or what I like about your hobbies. Wait — what’s your job?”

“Let’s say we met in the park. I’m into watercolours and purebred dog breeding. And I co-own a fashion line, Anista.”

Nick had never heard of it, not that he knew any other fashion lines anyway.

Their drinks by then were ready, so Cora steered them back over. Nick took only the tiniest sip — he was absolutely not drinking at this thing now.

“Fantastic, right?” Cora asked. “That’s £3,800 a bottle, it better be.”

Tasted like rank grape juice to Nick, so basically like every 12 quid bottle of wine he’d ever tossed in his trolley as Asda. Except, as he did some quick maths in his head, he realised this glass cost somewhere in the neighbourhood of £700 to £800. Do not spill it, do not spill it.

Cora dragged him behind her like a puppy as they wended their way through the party guests, each more posh than the last. 

At last, they arrived at an older couple who Nick took to be Cora’s parents.

“Mummy, daddy, may I present my boyfriend, Nicholas Nelson.”

Time to win that Emmy.

Nick slathered a smile across his face and took each of their hands in turn. “Mr. Davenport, Mrs. Davenport, it’s wonderful to meet you,” he said, adding more honey to his voice than his gran did to her tea. “Thank you for having me at your lovely home.” 

“Quite,” Mr. Davenport said in response, studying Nick up and down. He suddenly felt rather frumpy in his nicest clothes — khakis, a button-down with a muted jumper on top, just what Cora had instructed he wear. This wasn’t black tie, but it was damn near close, and Nick thought he was unfortunately a little underdressed.

“We’ve heard so little about you… Nick?” Mrs. Davenport said, apparently unable to remember his name from a moment ago. “What is it you do for a living?”

So, not Blackbirds fans, then. Nick couldn’t really see Mr. Davenport putting on their kit and cheering at the telly… if he had a telly. Probably had one in the bathroom. Rich people thing.

“I play fly-half for the Blackbirds, ma’am,” Nick replied.

Cora’s mum looked lost. “The Black… is that a sports team?”

“Rugby, darling,” Mr. Davenport said, patting her arm. “I’m more of a polo man myself.”

“Yes, of course, Cora’s mentioned that,” Nick replied, beaming at his quick thinking. He’d kill at an improv class, he thought. “I was never a good enough swimmer for polo.”

The Davenports all shot one another looks.

Oh, cripes.

“Uh… you meant the one with the horses,” Nick said, his tone falling. 

“Yyyyyyyyes…” Mr. Davenport replied, looking at Nick askance. “Well.”

Nick blushed and looked down at the floor. Okay, no more winging it.

“Well,” Mrs. Davenport said, breaking the pregnant silence. “Nick, tell us about your family. Are you of the Nelson family that owns Potentia Industries?”

“Er, no,” Nick replied. “My mother is a nurse in Kent.”

“Ohhh,” Mrs. Davenport replied. “Yes. We banged our pots in the yard several times during the pandemic, didn’t we?” Mr. Davenport grunted in affirmation. Nick really didn’t have time to process that response before she was off again. “And your father?”

Nick had been hoping they’d let that one slide, but no such luck. He could at least play it up. “My father is a stock broker in Paris.”

“Oh, how interesting, I’m sure,” said Mr. Davenport. “Would you excuse us? Bartholomew Hamish Montgomery just walked in and we must go greet him.”

“Of course,” Nick said with a tiny bow, wondering who the fuck Bartholomew Hamish Montgomery is or why he would be expected to know that. 

He watched Cora’s parents navigate away and latch on to a young but arrogan-looking man who had just walked in.

“Er, sorry about that,” Nick says.

“Hrm. Yeah,” Cora said, chewing her lower lip and watching her parents retreat.

Nick spent the next hour being dragged around the house, introduced to various family members, Davenport business associates, and the region’s mucketiest muckety-mucks. Pretty much to a person they all seemed baffled at best by his appearance at the party — and dismissive or worse at times after learning he wasn’t one of the upper crust. Why did everyone ask what his parents did? And why was the word “nurse” practically a curse word to these people?

Nick soldiered on, stumbling through one embarrassing conversation after another. Only one time seemed to go very well, when two of Cora’s cousins not only followed rugby but knew who he was. Nick and the two brothers had an excited conversation about the season. Sooner than he would have liked, Nick was being dragged off to meet yet more of Cora’s family. She certainly was getting her money’s worth out of his bizarre little arrangement. 

His eyes had glazed over and he was no longer absorbing anything about the people he was introduced to. Nick had finally whittled down that insanely expensive glass of wine, and Cora suggested another trip to the bar. 

“Listen, this isn’t working,” Cora told him as they waited for fresh drinks.

“Oh. Um. Sorry,” Nick fumbled. He’d really never done anything like this before. “Is there — should I be acting differently?”

Cora put her hands on her hips and walked in a small circle. “Well… I thought you’d make an impression. I knew I should have bid on that hedge fund guy. Of course they’d prefer a millionaire to — anyway.”

Cool. This was more than mildly insulting. When the bartender handed Nick a new glass of that expensive-ass wine, he practically chugged the thing, fighting off a grimace at the taste. He signalled for the man to fill the glass again.

“Well if they’re not going to be impressed by you… I guess all that’s left is Plan B,” Cora said, moving her hands from her hips to cross her arms. 

“Plan B?”

“B for breakup,” Cora said. “I need you to break up with me. In front of my parents. That way I can play off their sympathy — oh, and the trauma of the breakup means they’ll leave me alone for a while.”

Nick shook his head. This was crazy. He never should have gotten this deep into her plan, and now he was having a hard time seeing a way out that didn’t end in disaster.

“Cora, stop. Have you considered just talking to your parents? Telling them that they’d criticisms of you hurt? You don’t need to manipulate them just —”

“You really don’t know anything about parents, do you?” Cora asked before downing the whiskey she had ordered. She slammed the glass down on the bartop, turned and marched away. Nick followed, hissing her name to no avail, and soon they were mingled among the party guests again.

Cora stopped when she eyed her parents on the other side of the room, talking to another older couple, dour faces all around.

“Okay, do it here,” she said, squaring up as though they were going to fight physically.

“What — no!” Nick refused. “Cora, this is self-destructive, and trust me, I know self-destructive. Let’s find another way.”

She seemed to consider his plea for a moment before shaking her head. “Nah. Let’s do this.”

“Cora, I’m not going to —”

“ You’re dumping me? ” Cora interrupted, shouting loudly enough that every head in the room turned to stare. “Here, in front of my family and friends, you’re dumping me! How dare you, Nicholas Nelson!”

Nick sputtered as he glanced around the room. Having so many eyes on him, drilling into him, when none of these people had actually liked him anyway and now were even less inclined — Nick was steaming and needed to get out of there. He could not get into a knock-down-dragout with a woman who would only ever escalate it for her benefit. His best bet was simply to leave.

He turned toward the door and tried to step away, but Cora threw herself in front of him. In doing so, they collided, and the glass of expensive red wine in his hand that Nick had completely forgotten about was jostled enough to get most of the maroon liquid on both himself and Cora. 

She squawked dramatically. “I just wanted to talk, Nick,” she shouted. Cora must have taken improv at uni, she was just too quick on her feet. “You didn’t have to throw the Margaux on me!”

“I — I didn’t —” Nick stammered, trying to decide whether to defend himself or just cut and run.

“I put up with the lying, and the cheating!” Cora shouted. Nick could hear gasping around them. “And this is the thanks I get!”

Nick’s jaw dropped open. Cut and run, cut and run.

He turned and found himself face to face with Cora’s father, whose visage somehow had become even more stern. 

“Time for you to go, son,” he said gruffly.

“Thank you,” Nick replied eagerly, sidestepping Mr. Davenport and making a beeline for the front door as everyone stared at him with a look of shock or disgust. He heard Cora shout, “Mummy!” It was followed a moment later by a muffled oomph noise — turning his head back, Nick could just see Cora had thrown herself across her mother, who was gently stroking her back. Surely a grand gesture for these rich pricks.

Nick pushed down the anger, stomped on it like one of the grapes in that overpriced bottle of wine until finally he was outside in the chill air. Nick sucked in a breath, realising he hadn’t taken in air for the entire walk out of the house. He bent over and gasped, trying to understand what had gone so horribly wrong. It really didn’t seem like his fault, but he felt as though it must be somehow. He probably should have lied more about — wait, what the hell was Nick thinking? He was buying into Cora’s whole insanity.

Nick focused on one of his anger management exercises — imagining his frustration as a red balloon that floated away gently into the sunset-dappled sky — until his Uber arrived. The exercises didn’t help much. He seethed quietly in the backseat as they trundled back into the downtown area. Until Nick realised what he needed and changed his destination.

 

***

 

Nick’s nostrils flared as he pounded on Charlie’s front door. When it didn’t open right away, Nick pounded harder, the wood rattling in its frame, until suddenly he was face-to-face with a lanky Asian man with a scowl that could kill.

“Do you fucking mind?” the man snarled.

“I — who — Sorry, I think I have the wrong flat,” Nick said, stumbling a bit on his words amidst his shock. “I was looking for Charlie Spring.”

“Yeah, I’m his roommate, Tao,” the man said. Riiiiiight, Nick recalled. Charlie had mentioned the first time Nick had come over that he had a bit of an absentee roommate. Nick hadn’t encountered him in the various time’s he’d come over, and had almost forgotten.

“I’m… Nick Nelson. His client.”

Recognition gleamed in Tao’s eye. “His arsehole client, you mean.”

Nick huffed but didn’t want to risk going toe-to-toe with an unknown.

“Tao, what the hell was that racket, I was in the show—” Charlie stepped out of the bathroom in a robe, rubbing a towel through his wet hair. He stopped abruptly when he saw Nick.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“...Why are you here?”

“The auction date… went really bad.”

Charlie looked cross. “What did you do?”

“The fuck do you mean, what did I do?” Nick yelped. “You just assume it’s my fault?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Tao, who had been watching this back-and-forth more gleefully than a tennis fan at Wimbledon, suddenly interjected.

“Er, I’ll leave you two to talk shop, I was just on my way out,” he said, picking up a duffel that Nick hadn’t noticed on the floor. “Unless, Charlie, you want me to stay…”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “You can go. I’ll be fine.”

Tao looked back and forth between Nick and Charlie a few more times, then hummed and walked out. Nick stepped inside, letting Charlie’s door close behind him.

Charlie perched on the edge of his sofa’s armrest.

“All right. What happened?”

Nick huffed, and launched into an explanation of the situation. How Cora blindsided him with the fake boyfriend plan. How he was stupid to go along with it. How virtually everyone at that party looked down on him. How Cora imploded everything to serve her own ends. How he had barely suppressed his rage, and was having to choke it back now.

As Nick talked — or rather, ranted — Charlie’s frown deepened and his eyes crinkled more and more. He crossed his arms, the opposite of Nick, who was flailing his about angrily. 

Finishing his tale, Nick collapsed onto Charlie’s couch. Rather than catharsis, the rant had only made him more pent up. He sat stewing for a bit until Charlie spoke.

“That really sucks,” Charlie finally said.

Nick barked out a laugh.

“That’s your expert opinion? ‘That sucks’?” Nick asked.

“Nick, it sounds like you did everything right,” Charlie said, standing and stepping in front of Nick to look at his face. “When it went tits up, you removed yourself from the situation. You carried out physical and mental exercises to reduce your anger. You’re putting what we’re doing to good use! Old you probably would have gone King Kong, and I’m not saying Cora didn’t deserve that, but more importantly — you don’t deserve that.”

Nick frowned and crossed his arms. If this was some big breakthrough, shouldn’t he be feeling better?

He was startled when Charlie suddenly surged forward and sat on his lap, legs splayed on either side.

“Wh — what the hell?” Nick sputtered.

“Positive reinforcement, blah blah blah,” Charlie said, looping his arms around Nick’s neck. “Come on. Fuck me.”

Nick looked at Charlie suspiciously, one eyebrow cocked. He wasn’t really sure what was happening. It seemed unlikely having Nick barge in and dump all his anger on Charlie was really a big turn-on. 

“It’s not a test,” Charlie said, seemingly hearing Nick’s thoughts. “You did pretty much everything right, from your telling. And now I want your dick in my arse. Can you do that?”

Nick’s cock roared to life, straining against the fabric of his trousers. He gulped, and Charlie must have seen the desire in his eyes because he reached down between them and palmed Nick through his pants. “Yes, I think you can do that,” Charlie said, his voice low and sultry. He gripped Nick’s hand and manoeuvred it down between them and under his robe until Nick was suddenly feeling Charlie’s naked cock against his skin, already leaking.

Without thinking, Nick surged forward, capturing Charlie’s lips in a passionate kiss as he stroked his massive dick slowly. The lengthy shaft pulsed in Nick’s hand, and he could feel himself leaking into his own boxers in response. Nick let go of Charlie’s cock and slithered his arm underneath him. The angle was awkward and he couldn’t hold his wrist like this for long, but soon Nick found his prize — Charlie’s rim. His finger was dry, but even running the pad along the puckering rim had Charlie quivering and gasping into his ear.

Charlie hopped off him, his hard, heavy cock jutting out through the folds in his robe like a curious snake. 

“Come on, then,” Charlie grunted, tilting his head toward his room. Nick followed, his entire body pulsing with anger and regret and fear and want, so much want. Charlie shed his robe as he walked, the fabric billowing to the floor and revealing his outstanding arse that swayed back and forth. Nick could have been hypnotised by the sight, but thankfully, Charlie reached his bed by that point. He bent over to retrieve lube and condoms from his bedside table — and Nick could feel his cock spurt pre-come into his underwear.

Nick reached down and shucked off his trousers and boxers before pulling his shirt and jumper over his head, quickly matching Charlie’s state of undress.

Charlie laid face down on his bed, bending his arms under his head and turning his face to make eyes at Nick. He hardly needed any more invitation, and in a zip Nick had run over, squirted some lube on his fingers and began circling Charlie’s rim again. Charlie moaned at Nick’s touch, and Nick impatiently began pressing one finger inside, forward, forward, until he’d bottomed out. 

“Mmm, more,” Charlie muttered, his voice deep. Nick hesitated. They were still fairly new at this but he usually gave Charlie more time to adjust.

Charlie bent around to look back at Nick. “Another. It’s all right. I want to move fast tonight.”

Nick shrugged, applied more lube and added his middle finger, scissoring him open until Charlie again told him to proceed. Before Nick knew it, Charlie was getting up on his knees and tossing Nick a condom. He sheathed himself, slathered some more lube into Charlie and then lined up behind him and pressed in.

Charlie moaned pleasurably as he was filled, and Nick fucking loved the sensation on his cock — perfect, omnidirectional pressure. Figuring Charlie was the one who had pushed things and had no qualm of telling Nick when he was doing wrong, Nick glided forward until he’d bottomed out, and after only a brief respite to adjust, began pulling out and thrusting forward, over and over. 

They’d been fucking like that for a few minutes when Charlie scoffed.

“Is this it?” he asked, turning his head to speak more in Nick’s direction.

“What? Not good enough?”

“No, not fucking good enough,” Charlie said. Nick hadn’t been expecting that. “You came over here hyped up and with a crazed look in your eye. Where’s it all gone?”

They’d been so caught up in the physical pleasure that Nick had been able to forget what a bitchy arsehold Charlie could be. Well, this certainly was a reminder.

“Aren’t you angry?” Charlie asked. “You were used. Manipulated. Exploited. Provoked! Aren’t you angry?”

Nick huffed. “Fuck yes, I’m fucking angry!” he shouted, plowing harder into Charlie. “She tricked me into that stupid, crazy situation. Looked down on me like I’m fucking worthless. And she got fucking red wine all over my favorite fucking jumper!” Nick shouted angrily and began thrusting with abandon, his hips snapping back and forth with immense force.

Charlie was propelled forward with each smack, his bed shaking and the headboard crashing against the wall over and over. He made little grunts and yelps, probably just holding on for dear life as the enmity that had pooled in Nick’s chest reheated and burst forth. Nick felt hot all over, sweat forming across his body with the sheer effort of fucking Charlie.

He had been holding on to Charlie’s hips, but Nick released them and grabbed his shoulders instead, angling Charlie’s body until he formed a deeper curve along his spine and began yelping outright. Charlie’s arms gave out and his whole body collapsed forward, and Nick toppled down on top of him, never stopping his rhythmic pumping. Steamy air rising off Charlie’s back rose and swirled into his nostrils, and Nick’s eyes fluttered in response as his nose took in the mix of body wash and human musk.

After a few minutes, Nick lifted himself up on his own strong arms, putting some space between his torso and Charlie’s back, continuing to piston into Charlie with filthy grunts. 

Apparently it still wasn’t enough for His Lordship.

“Come on Nick, fuck me like you mean it!” Charlie shouted, his voice wavering in and out at each amplitude and trough of Nick’s thrusts. “You were fucking humiliated today! Use that anger, then use me!”

Nick’s head dipped as memories of that afternoon flashed behind his eyelids — everyone looking at him like street trash, Cora buying his date just to use him, being reduced to a stereotype rag doll in her fucked up little play. 

Nick shouted and slammed into Charlie so hard he started sliding up the sheets. Nick had to keep adjusting his knees, moving forward as Charlie did, until they finally crashed into the headboard and could go no further. Charlie reared himself up on the wooden slats and arched his back. Nick adjusted himself again, placing his hands on Charlie's shoulders and plunging into him over and over. The room was a cacophony of creaking wood noises, flesh smacking against flesh and near-maniacal grunts. Nick was sweating bullets with the effort, and Charlie’s back was practically growing red as angry blood coursed through his veins.

When Nick’s hips began stuttering and pressure built up inside, Charlie glanced back at him, his pupils blown wide and his eyes almost totally black. 

“Go on, Nick,” yelped. “Fuck me, blast me, dump all that frustration inside me, fucking fuck me already!”

Nick’s vision blurred slightly. He could barely take in enough oxygen to keep going, he was so turned on, but within seconds he was unloading into the condom inside Charlie, the growing wave of anger forming a sudden crest of pleasure that crashed against his body like a tsunami upon the rocks. He cried out, in anguish or ecstasy, Nick wasn’t entirely sure, and he most certainly couldn’t be arsed at the moment. 

He collapsed on top of Charlie, gasping and heaving, the remnants of his petite mort making him twitch against the searing hot skin of the man beneath him.

After 20 seconds or so, Nick slowly extricated himself, marvelling at how weighed down the condom was. He slid it off and tied off the end before chucking it down onto the floor somewhere, and then collapsed on his side next to Charlie, who turned his head to look at Nick. A smile danced across Charlie’s face.

“Good job, Nick,” Charlie mumbled. “Very good work.”

Nick tried not to let his pleasure at Charlie’s words show, but internally he let himself preen.

“Did you…”

Charlie closed his eyes and shook his head.

Nick immediately frowned. Job incomplete, he thought to himself.

He reached out and grabbed Charlie by the shoulder, spinning him around onto his back. His long, hard cock swayed warily in the air before leaning back down toward Charlie’s navel. Nick shimmied down the bed until he was poised over Charlie’s cock, then looked up at the man, looking for permission. Charlie nodded, and Nick took him on his tongue. He loved feeling the textures, moulding the muscle over the sensitive ridges and nerve clusters. 

Charlie reacted immediately, moaning and sucking in his flat stomach to form a concave bowl between his hips and the bottom of his ribcage. Nick eyed the area hungrily as he took more and more of Charlie into his mouth, using his free hand to work up and down the shaft. 

He must have been pretty close already, because soon Charlie was tapping Nick on the head gently. The tapping grew stronger until Nick hummed angrily and took Charlie even deeper. Finally, Charlie gave in, and Nick’s mouth was flooded with his hot spend. The flavour really was growing on Nick, and frankly he’d had more bitter tastes in his mouth that day. He happily licked and sucked until Charlie collapsed against the bed, boneless, running one hand through Nick’s hair over and over.

As Charlie softened in his mouth, Nick reluctantly pulled off, placing one last tiny kiss on the tip before he wormed his way up the bed and crumpled up beside Charlie.

They simply lay there until their breathing became more regulated.

“Feel a little better?” Charlie asked.

Nick chuckled. “I don’t recall learning that anger management technique from Professor Spring.”

Charlie grimaced. “Er. Yeah. I mean, I suppose it could be an effective strategy. But I’m not sharing that tip with my other clients.”

Nick propped his head up on one arm and squawked at Charlie playfully. “You have other clients?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Nick, you’re a big client but you don’t put enough rizz in my Revolut to pay the bills,” he said, referring to the online bank that Nick knew some of his teammates used. “I also do PR for a balloon artist and Jungle Jack.”

“Jungle Jack?” Nick asked.

“He takes, like, reptiles to kids’ birthday parties.”

“Ooh, hot,” Nick said. “Do you fuck your other clients, too?”

“Oh, Jesus!” Charlie yelped, smacking Nick on the thigh. “Jungle Jack is like 60! And I’ve seen what the balloon artist can do and… I can’t watch that happen to a condom, sorry.”

Nick laughed. “So I’m special, then?”

“If by ‘special’ you mean ‘pain in my arse,’ then yes,” Charlie replied.

They chatted a bit more after that, but soon both men drifted off. When Nick stirred awake, it was nearly midnight. He slid around Charlie without waking the man, pulled the duvet back over him snugly, then redressed and walked home.

Chapter 13

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick and Charlie sleep in. Nick's charity auction buyer throws him a curveball. And Tao finally makes an appearance!

This time: A press conference goes awry. Guess how Nick works off his frustration. Charlie flies a little too close to the sun. Movie night is awkward.

Notes:

Beta reader KitSaidOui makes this fic and my life so much better. Thank you.

Nick sat idly, maintaining an interested observing face since he was on camera but not really paying much attention to the proceedings. He was attending the standard post-game press conference, seated next to Otis and Harry in the media room as a dozen or so reporters asked about the game they’d just won and upcoming matches. 

As captain and vice captain (Nick struggled not to roll his eyes even thinking about Harry’s silly title), the other two men routinely did these, and other players sat in occasionally. Coach Singh had asked Nick to this time since he’d been scoring even more tries than usual lately and apparently reporters had been asking for his presence.

For the first 15 minutes, though, pretty much all the questions had been directed at Otis. Nick nodded in agreement, even verbally supporting a few things Otis had said, but otherwise hadn’t had much to do other than cool his heels and wait for this to be over. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind answering some questions — another opportunity to boost his profile — but Otis was very capably handling the inquiries.

They had a pretty good rapport with the sports press corps, the reporters who regularly covered the Blackbirds. But Nick felt a chill run down his spine when Otis called on the next reporter — “yes, you, the woman in the back?”

“Hi, Borella Maguire, WKSO Action News.”

FUCK.

Nick’s eyes flicked up. Until she stood, he had been hidden from Nick’s view behind that beefy guy from the Evening Standard. Borella was not one of the regular Blackbirds reporters; WKSO sent a guy named McEwan to cover them. What the fuck was Borella doing here instead? Surely she’d been blackballed after what happened at the animal shelter. 

He immediately tensed, sitting upright in his chair and clasping his hands together in his lap, which was blocked from the media’s view under the table. Otis seemed to notice the shift in Nick’s body language.

“Hello,” Otis said cautiously. “You’re not James.”

“Er, no,” Borella said. “Emergency appendectomy, I’m afraid. I’m the emergency sub.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Otis replied. “About James. Well… on behalf of all the Blackbirds, I wish him a swift recovery.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Borella replied as everyone in the room murmured about their missing colleague. “Anyway, I wanted to ask about Nick Nelson, your fly-half. He’s been scoring a lot lately, as I understand it.”

“Indeed he has,” Otis said, clapping Nick on the back. “Nick had a great first year, but I think the past couple months have really proven that he’s an all-star player and valuable asset.”

Nick tried to suppress his grin at Otis’ praise and come across as humble. 

“But what about his off-the-pitch misadventures?” Borella asked.

Here came the other shoe. Nick shrank down, waiting for the hit.

“I’m sorry?” asked Otis, genuinely perplexed.

“I’ve obtained video footage of Mr. Nelson breaking up with his girlfriend Cora Davenport at a family function recently,” Borella said. “The situation even got a little physical — he threw wine on her, you can clearly see in the video.”

Otis looked completely baffled by all of this, while Harry had a gross gleam in his eye.

“That’s not what happened!” Nick yelped into his microphone. “Cora and I were never a couple, she was not my girlfriend. Since we weren’t together, we can’t have broken up. And the wine thing — that was entirely an accident, I absolutely did not throw a drink at her!”

“Uh…” Otis broke in, putting one hand on Nick’s knee in a silent message to shut the fuck up. “This really seems like a private matter, not a team issue.”

“Actually, it is a team issue,” Borella said. “Her father, Geoffrey Davenport is on the board of directors of Lyssa Financial — one of the Blackbirds’ sponsors.”

Nick felt a vice grip around his heart. He had no idea Cora was somehow connected to the Blackbirds — she never said, and no one at that stupid party seemed to have any idea who he was. Although Mr. Davenport at least had known the Blackbirds were a rugby team… The reporters in the room were looking at one another, a few sharing whispers. A few more pulled out their phones, probably looking up all this stuff. If this cost the team a sponsorship, Nick would be done in professional sports. Fuck fuck fuck.

By now, the team’s communications director, Isabel Greenwood, had made her way from the back of the room where she observing and jumped in between Nick and the cameras.

“This appears to be a private matter, not a team issue, so we won’t be taking any more questions on the topic,” she said.

“What about questions about violence in the locker room?” Borella asked.

What chatter had arisen in the room ceased.

“I’m sorry?” Isabel asked.

“I have a well-placed source who says Nick Nelson attacked a teammate in the locker room recently,” Borella said smugly. “Apparently there was significant property damage, and Mr. Nelson faced no repercussions for the aggression. Is that the sort of atmosphere the Blackbirds foster within their own organisation?”

Nick wanted to shout down all this bullshit being hurled at him, but Otis placed one hand on his shoulder and gripped hard. Shut. The fuck. Up. Message received. Nick slunk down in his seat and stared at a speck of dust on the floor.

“I’m not sure —” Isabel began before Otis interrupted.

“Ms. Maguire, that’s a gross exaggeration of the incident you’re describing. Nick Nelson unequivocally did not attack a teammate. The rest is an internal matter that was settled appropriately. I’m not talking about it any further, and we’re done for today.”

Otis stood and ushered Nick out the door and into the hallway, away from the reporters who shouted a cacophony of questions at them. Harry followed a few seconds later, looking like the cat who got the cream.

“Ooh, that’s rough, Nick,” Harry taunted.

“Walk away, Greene,” Otis said gruffly, side-eyeing Harry. It looked like he was thinking of responding, but ultimately turned and sauntered off.

“You know he was the fucking source, right?” Nick whispered angrily. “Him or one of his snivelling lackeys.”

“No doubt,” Otis said, looking to make sure Harry really had disappeared. He pulled Nick over into an empty supply room. “I can handle the locker room thing. What’s this other stuff… the Davenports? A breakup? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

“I wasn’t!” Nick replied. “This woman bought me at the JDRF auction, remember I told you about Sai and me doing that? Well, for our ‘date’ she asked me to attend a gathering of her frou-frou family a couple of weeks ago. Fine, whatever. I get there and she’s all, ‘pretend to be my boyfriend to impress my parents.’”

Otis raised an eyebrow.

“Could I make this kind of thing up?” Nick asked. “Anyway, I’m getting red flags but I ignore them and agree. But it’s a disaster, everyone there looked down their noses at a poor rugby player like me. Next thing I know, she’s shrieking that I’ve dumped her in front of everyone.”

“Did you really throw wine on her?” Otis asked.

“Fuck, no. I was literally trying to leave and she jumped in front of me. It was her fucking fault the wine got spilled!” 

Just then, Otis’ phone dinged with a text message. He glanced at the screen.

“It’s Isabel — she sent the video.”

They both leaned over his phone, where Nick got to watch the whole horrible Cora ordeal over again. From the angle and distance at which it was filmed, it was sort of hard to tell what was happening, but the sudden tussle when Nick tried to leave didn’t look great.

“Otis, you have to believe me, other than quickly at the auction I’d never met that woman! She faked this whole thing, I swear to god.”

Otis watched the video a second time, then put his phone away.

“I do believe you, Nick. This all sounds totally fucked.”

“Thank you,” Nick moaned in relief. 

“Did you know these people were connected to Lyssa?”

“No, I had no idea,” Nick said. “If I had, I’d have known not to get caught up in this mess. Fuck… Otis, is this gonna cost me?”

Otis sighed. “It shouldn’t. You said this happened a couple weeks ago? Well, we haven’t heard anything about it from Lyssa, so maybe they don’t really care and this reporter is just stirring things up. Do you think Harry was behind her getting this video, too?”

Nick placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t see how… he wasn’t there. This just seems like pure bad luck. Or maybe Borella was sniffing around for dirt to go with this story and found him. This is the same reporter who fucked me over on the animal shelter thing.”

Otis’ phone dinged again. 

“I’m being summoned,” he said. “Listen, get out of here and go home, no partying tonight. And don’t talk to any reporters. And definitely not Harry. Right now, you can only make things worse. Don’t stick your dick in it, yeah?”

Nick nodded. 

“Good lad.”

Nick didn’t encounter Harry or anyone else from the team — they’d likely all headed out to celebrate that day’s win. Thankfully, Nick had already showered before the press conference, so he gathered his stuff and headed out a side entrance. As he stepped out into the cool night air, his phone dinged with a message in his flat group chat.

Imogen Heaney [20:05]: Leaving for the club and there’s a news van parked outside your building!

Attached was an image of a WKSO vehicle idling out front. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Nick couldn’t go home right now.

He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then threw his hoodie over his head and started walking.

Nick Nelson [20:06]: Are you home now?

Charlie Spring [20:07]: yes…

Nick Nelson [20:07]: Coming over. Need you.

Charlie Spring [20:08]: professionally or… 

Nick Nelson [20:08]: Both.

Charlie Spring [20:08]: i should probably ask what happened but instead I’m gonna hop into the shower real quick

Nick Nelson [20:09]: Good. ETA 15 minutes.

Twelve and a half minutes later, the second Charlie opened his door, Nick pushed him up against a wall and attacked his mouth vigorously. Their tongues battled as they breathed heavily through their noses, especially Nick, who hadn’t stopped to catch his breath from his power walk before knocking. 

His hands roved up and down Charlie’s body hungrily, feeling his smooth skin and lithe muscles, heat passing between them. Having apparently showered quickly, Charlie was wearing only a robe. Nick broke the kiss and looked Charlie in the eyes.

“Are we alone?”

Charlie nodded, and Nick immediately shucked the robe off Charlie, freeing his body completely right there in the entryway. Nick sank to his knees, pausing only long enough to bite gently at Charlie’s nipples before he sucked a few fresh love bites into Charlie’s beautiful stomach. Then Nick went for the ultimate prize, Charlie’s hard cock, which had been poking against his chest. 

Nick took Charlie on his tongue, licking at the sensitive corona while his hands worked Charlie’s shaft and balls. This… this was what Nick needed. Focusing on taking Charlie as deep as he could meant less room in his brain for all the shit at work. But it still wasn’t enough. Nick tried sucking in more of Charlie, deeper and deeper, until his head was brushing against the dangly thing at the back of Nick’s throat whose name he couldn’t remember.

He started coughing, and pulled off Charlie’s dick for a minute.

“Nick, are you—”

“I’m fine.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Want your cum,” Nick growled before latching back on, causing Charlie’s eyes to flutter and his head to roll back. Nick blew Charlie with abandon, and within a few minutes he felt Charlie’s balls pulling up tighter against his body.

“Nick… gonna…”

Nick looked up at Charlie and glared at him through his eyelashes. He fucking said he wanted Charlie’s cum and he hadn’t changed his mind. He renewed his efforts, and a few seconds later Charlie was gasping his name while spilling down his eager throat, not a single drop gone to waste. 

“Holy shit,” Charlie muttered, his long legs trembling to hold him up, even with his back pressed against the wall.

Nick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood and took Charlie's hand. He led him into his bedroom and pushed him down on his bed.

“Nick, what—”

Nick bent Charlie legs up, exposing his pert arse.

“Want to lick you,” Nick grumbled.

“F—fuck, okay,” Charlie said. 

Nick positioned himself behind Charlie so he had a good look at his perky little hole. Nick dreamed about this fucking hole. Tentatively, he stuck his tongue out and ran it over the sensitive ring. Charlie shivered and moaned a little above him. Perfect. Nick began lapping at Charlie’s hole like a horse at a salt lick, causing the curly-haired man to huff and puff as electric sparks shot up and down his body. 

Experimentally, Nick tried pushing his tongue inside Charlie a little, earning a filthy “oh fuck” sound from above that he rather enjoyed. He kept plunging in and out, not being able to stick it in very far but getting excellent results from what he could do. Soon, Nick added a finger to the mix, beginning to stretch Charlie, using his own saliva as lube for now. Another finger and then another, and Nick was jabbing at Charlie’s prostate.

Pulling his head back, Nick noted with a smirk that Charlie’s cock had returned to full mast. His fingers still embedded in Charlie’s arse, Nick licked his way up Charlie’s taint, with a dusting of hair, up to his sagging balls, which Nick took in his mouth one by one, rolling around on his tongue like an ice cube on a hot summer’s day. Despite having just emptied down Nick’s gullet, Charlie’s balls felt heavy again, driving Nick wild.

Nick let his balls fall out of his mouth, then leaned up so he could look Charlie in the eye.

“Can I fuck you?”

Charlie, looking blissed out, nodded before letting his head fall back on the duvet. 

Nick stood and stripped off his clothes as quickly as possible, then reached into the bedside table for lube and a condom. He expertly prepped them both and then began pressing into Charlie, who was still on his back with his legs bent over him. Once Nick had bottomed out, Charlie moved his legs to wrap about Nick’s body. 

Propping himself up with his arms placed on either side of Charlie, Nick pulled his hips back and  then snapped them forward. Charlie felt fucking amazing around his cock, warm and tight and welcoming. He moaned pleasurably at the sensation, like coming home after a long day at work, and began fucking Charlie. Nick’s head dropped to look down between them, where he could see himself pumping into Charlie over and over. He noticed Charlie’s own cock was leaking onto his stomach.

Nick lowered himself and began kissing and sucking the skin along Charlie’s bony clavicles, his skin warm along Nick’s tongue. Charlie’s hands wandered along Nick’s body before settling for scratching gently against Nick’s back. The light pain of Charlie’s nails scraping along his back heightened Nick’s pleasure, and he growled happily as he licked along Charlie’s jawline, his tongue catching on the short evening scruff there. 

Finally, Nick made his way to Charlie’s ears, his gorgeous ears, where Nick nipped at the lobes before switching to whispered babbling. He was barely even aware of what he was saying, Nick was so focused on fucking into Charlie, on chasing his pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hot, Charlie, Jesus Christ. The things you do to me… never felt this way before, never fucked anyone so good as you before, fuck…”

Nick had to stop talking when he felt himself approaching orgasm as his breathing became too irregular. Charlie apparently noticed the telltale signs, and asked Nick in a strained voice to touch him, for the love of god, please, touch him. He complied, snaking one hand between them and grabbing Charlie’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the soaked head. Nick was sweating profusely at the effort of doing all this while holding his entire torso up with one arm, and a couple of drops of sweat fell off his nose and onto Charlie’s chest.

Soon, Nick crested, his hips stuttering as he cried out and unloaded into the condom deep inside Charlie. In the recesses of his mind, he could feel wet splashes between them as Charlie came for the second time in less than half an hour, but Nick really couldn’t think much about that right now. He leaned down, pressing his body against Charlie’s and licked at the side of his throat, tasting the salty perspiration that coated Charlie’s skin, which itself was searing hot under his tongue. 

His cock becoming sensitive, Nick slipped out of Charlie and pulled off the laden condom, tying it off and chucking it toward his bin. Collapsing beside Charlie, Nick breathed heavily as the other man murmured post-sex praise.

“I don’t know what prompted that, but thank fuck, is all I can say,” Charlie muttered, running one hand up and down Nick’s abs. Which Nick may have been flexing, who’s to say.

Nick had hoped the endorphins would last, but those traitorous chemicals began breaking down pretty damn quickly, leaving him once again with all the worries about Borella Maguire and Cora Davenport and Harry Greene and whether or not he’d still have a job come Monday.

This, the sex, seemed to be the only part of his life Nick didn’t keep fucking up. He would have found the irony of that phrasing more funny if he weren’t already back in a sullen mood.

Charlie seemed to sense that. “Nick, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Nick shook his head. Telling Charlie about the press conference ambush would move him into professional mode, and Nick didn’t want professional Charlie right now, he wanted fuck buddy Charlie. He wanted… nevermind.

He sighed. “Is this all I’m good for, Charlie? Sex? Is this the only reason anyone would ever want me?”

Charlie rolled onto his side and scrunched up his face. “No… did I do something to —”

“No,” Nick interrupted. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Charlie protested, his fingers idly tracing along Nick’s bicep. “And no, sex is not the only thing you have to offer. You’re fucking wizard at it, but you have so much to offer. You’re a great athlete, at the start of what will be an amazing career. You’re funny, and smart, and loyal, which is worth a lot more than you might think. And you’re kind, which, again… rarer than you’d think.”

“I’m not very kind to you, Charlie,” Nick huffed.

Charlie hummed. “The container of leftover eggs in your fridge told a different story.”

Nick was confused for a moment before he remembered: the eggs, the day Charlie had slept over and almost gotten caught.

Charlie rolled onto his back and then stood up. “Okay, I’m starting to feel gross coated in cum. I’m gonna shower.”

Nick lay there, watching him.

“Care to join?”

Nick’s eyes opened wide. “Oh!” He scooched over and hopped up as well. Some of Charlie’s cum had ended up on him as well, so they were both going to get crusty sooner or later. He followed Charlie through the flat to the bathroom, both of them completely nude, and being in someone else’s place that way was strangely titillating. 

As the water warmed up slowly, they stood awkwardly in the tiny bathroom, forced into proximity by necessity. Nick tried to survey the room, but he could only look at the bathroom-quality art so long before his eyes wandered back to Charlie’s lithe form. He realised when he glanced up that he’d been caught, and both men looked away, suppressing giggles.

“You can look, if you want,” Charlie offered.

Nick mulled it over, then turned around. As much as he and Charlie had been naked together, he hadn’t really taken the time to take him in, but now he let himself drink in the man. Charlie was, objectively, hot. It was tough to tell from the way he dressed, but his sinewy frame had a lot of strength, which Nick could now see as muscles moved under his crystal clear skin. 

Charlie’s hip bones jutted out like rocky outcroppings, and Nick appreciated the thick bush of hair at the root of his cock, his long, delicious cock, and fuck, Nick was salivating again. He swallowed it all down and moved on, his eyes dancing to Charlie’s perfect arse, then down his strong thighs to his hairy legs. Nick tilted his head as he studied Charlie’s hands before he squinted and smiled.

“What?” Charlie asked, and Nick was pulled back into reality — reminded that Charlie can see him too. Charlie’s smile looked easy, but Nick could tell there was a wariness behind his eyes.

“It’s, um. Your thumbs.”

“My thumbs?” Charlie lifted his hand to his face to examine them.

“Yeah. They’re weird. But! But I like them. They’re nice-weird.”

“...My thumbs are ‘nice-weird.’”

Nick shrugged. “I said what I said.”

A smile pulled coyly at Charlie’s lips as he looked at his own thumb again.

“Well? What did you see about me?” Nick demanded.

Charlie looked at him for a moment before answering. “I saw a fat arse that I haven’t gotten a chance to really meet yet.”

“You like my arse?” Nick asked flirtily, without thinking.

Charlie bobbed his head from side to side. “I like a man with some cake.”

“Well maybe you should try a slice sometime.”

Charlie swallowed heavily as he looked into Nick’s eyes. This was dangerous stuff. This wasn’t hate flirting. People who hate fuck exclusively don't flirt, they just taunt. Nick’s eyes darted down to Charlie’s pink lips. Should he go for it? They never kissed outside of sex. Although the twitch he felt in his cock was indicating perhaps yet another round could be on the table. 

Before Nick could decide what to do, Charlie suddenly turned and stuck his hand under the spray.

“Warm enough,” he said, jumping into the shower stall. Nick suppressed a sigh and followed him in.

The stall was tiny, forcing them to stand close together, not that Nick minded. Charlie stood under the spray directly, soaking his curly locks before letting the warm water cascade down his body. He turned away from Nick so the water hit his front directly, washing away the evidence of their fucking. Nick stepped forward, pressing himself against Charlie’s back and grabbing the soapy washcloth from Charlie. He gently ran the cloth up and down Charlie’s chest and stomach, leaning his head on Charlie’s shoulder a bit as their bodies thrummed together.

Nick spun Charlie around carefully and washed his genitals tenderly, taking his time on the still-swollen cock and fondling his balls a little. Charlie didn’t get hard again — Nick would have been pretty impressed if he had — but his light moaning told Nick all he needed to know about how his ablutions were being received. 

Then Nick spun Charlie back around and cleaned his back, taking extra time around his arse, running the washcloth over Charlie’s sore hole over and over. Flipping the cloth over his shoulder like a waiter, Nick grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the shelf — specially formulated for curly hair, he read on the container — and wordlessly squirted some into his hands before massaging it into Charlie’s scalp.

When his head was topped with suds, Charlie turned and grabbed Nick, manoeuvring him under the water now. The warm downrush felt great along Nick’s body, and he closed his eyes as Charlie pulled the washcloth from his shoulder and dragged it along his skin, cleaning the spend from his front and massaging his increasingly hard cock.

“Sorry,” Nick said as Charlie cleaned his hard dick.

“Don’t apologise for that,” Charlie replied cheekily.

He turned Nick around so he was again facing the spray, and cleaned his back as well. 

Nick gasped when he felt a hand clasp around his cock; Charlie was reaching around to fist him from behind.

“I figure we’re two-to-one on orgasms tonight,” he said as he started stroking Nick, whose heart raced more and more. 

“Fuck,” Nick huffed. He was amazed at how turned on he could be not too long after having sex, but the evidence was undeniable. 

His body heaved with breathing as Charlie pleasured him. When one of Charlie’s hands started pushing through the cleft of his arse, Nick yelped a little.

“I’m sorry — is this okay?” Charlie asked, his strokes slowing. “I thought maybe I’d try… you know, a little fingering, see if you like it?”

Nick thought for a moment. “Okay, yeah.”

Charlie paused. “You’re not taking this as confirmation of what you said earlier about only being good for sex, are you?”

“I’m not, I’m really not, I promise,” Nick babbled. “Please keep touching me, Jesus Christ.”

Charlie chuckled and resumed stroking Nick expertly. Meanwhile, his fingers again pushed through Nick’s ample buttocks toward his virgin rim. The pad of Charlie’s finger rubbed against his hole, wettened slightly by the water but still feeling too dry for penetration. Suddenly, Charlie pulled his hand off Nick’s cock to reach for the shelf. Could shampoo be used as lube, Nick wondered. But it turned out Charlie wasn’t going for the shampoo. His hand dipped behind that bottle and pulled out a smaller one that had been hidden behind. Actual lube.

“You have shower lube?” Nick asked incredulously as Charlie squirted some onto his fingers.

“Sometimes I like to finger myself in here, so sue me,” Charlie replied. Soon the bottle was replaced and Nick moaned happily as Charlie’s hand resumed tugging on his leaking cock. He felt Charlie’s fingers poking at his entrance again, this time properly slicked.

“Just let me know if you don’t like it,” Charlie said.

Nick just nodded silently, not trusting himself not to say anything.

And then Charlie pressed his way in.

A knuckle passed through Nick’s rim, and it felt nice, if a little strange, but nice overall. The finger slid inward, and before Nick knew it, he was feeling Charlie’s hand pressed up against his hole.

“You’re doing so good, Nick, taking it so well,” Charlie whispered, barely audible under the spray. “Gonna add another now.”

Charlie withdrew a bit and Nick felt another blunt pressure against his rim. Although he was wound up pretty tight, Nick willed himself to relax, and soon Charlie had two fingers buried inside him. Nick grimaced a bit at the burn, but he could tell it was like the burn one felt at the gym, a good burn, and soon enough it was subsiding. All he could feel was Charlie inside him, Charlie’s fingers opening him up, scissoring a little before he brought them together and curled them. He must be searching for —

BINGO!

Nick’s entire body clenched and shivered when Charlie hit his prostate. He focused on jabbing the sensitive spot over and over, and within only 15 seconds or so Nick felt himself suddenly about to cum. He tried to warn Charlie, but when he opened his mouth it filled with water from the showerhead — and then Nick was cumming, violently, his whole body shaking as his cock fired cannon volleys of cum against the tile wall. 

He had never felt like this before. Nick thought he had enjoyed good orgasms, and he’d apparently had some pretty good ones, but this was simply next level. Every cell was on fire, every tendon and ligament pulling tight. He could even feel his toes curling against the scratchy shower stall floor.

Nick was vaguely aware that he was shouting outright, the sounds ricocheting off the tiled bathroom walls like bullets before reverberating back onto them. He sounded like a wanton whore and Nick could not be arsed to care.

As he came to, Nick’s head was bowed under the stream, water soaking his auburn hair and running down his face before cascading off his chin. He could barely breathe with all the water sluicing over his nose and mouth, so Nick turned around to face away from the water — and toward Charlie. 

He caught his breath and looked Charlie in the eyes, seeing honey and warmth, and Nick without even thinking dipped his head and kissed Charlie, kissed him deeply, wrapping his arms around the other man and pulling him tight against his body. They made out for a few minutes until the water began running cold against Nick’s back.

Before they got out, Charlie shimmied around and grabbed the showerhead — it was the kind that had a detachable component, Nick now saw. Charlie aimed the stream at the wall where Nick’s spend clung to the tile, and soon it was sliding down and around the drain before the evidence of his orgasm disappeared. 

Charlie quickly dried his body before stepping out to get a fresh towel for Nick. As Nick patted the water off his body, Charlie roughly ran a hand towel — Nick noticed the size — through his hair, which only seemed to leave it looking delightfully messy. Nick wondered how long it took to style those amazing curls every day.

“Tea?” Charlie asked, interrupting Nick’s thoughts.

“Er, yeah. Thanks.”

Charlie walked out of the bathroom nude. Nick peeked his head out the door and watched as he found the robe he’d been wearing when Nick arrived, still piled on the floor next to the front door. He really had come in like a hurricane, hadn’t he? Nick wrapped the towel around his waist before sauntering into Charlie’s room to find his cast-off clothes, pulling on just his boxer-briefs and t-shirt before returning to the living room. He sat on the couch, watching Charlie putter around the kitchen.

Eventually, Charlie asked his cream-and-sugar order, and a minute later they sat side by side on the couch, hot mugs in their hand with steam rising into the room. 

“Can I ask you something?” Charlie inquired quietly. 

Nick nodded, taking a sip of the tea. Finally, just cool enough to drink.

“Have you ever thought about… therapy?”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Er. No, not really.”

Charlie hummed in acknowledgement and focused his eyes on his mug.

“Why?”

Charlie looked at Nick inscrutably. “What do you mean, why?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I mean, I haven’t had some big trauma in my life that needs a shrink. I’m sure therapy is great for some people but I’m just a normal guy with normal problems.”

Charlie rearranged his position, tucking his legs up under himself. 

“Nick, normal people with normal problems don’t need to hire PR professionals to rehabilitate their image.”

Nick said nothing. Sure, he was a little more famous than the average person, more in the public eye, but other than that…

“It’s just… I was thinking about it,” Charlie continued when Nick hadn’t responded. “Your anger issues… seems like they trace back to you dad leaving. From what you’ve told me about that, from what I’ve seen of you and how you think… Nick, I think you subconsciously think him leaving is your fault. And I don’t know all the circumstances but I’m pretty confident in saying that divorce is never the kids’ fault.”

Nick’s jaw is clenched tightly and he’s boring a hole into the wall with his stare. He set his mug on the side table, concerned that he might throw it or spill it in anger. He did not fucking ask to get fucking psychoanalyzed like this and it was starting to set him off.

“And if you’re blaming yourself for that, then you started blaming yourself for everything. And now it’s gotten to the point where you’re preemptively letting your fear turn into anger and you’re tanking relationships of all kinds just to avoid really feeling anything.”

Enough.

“You think I don’t fucking know that already?” Nick said, hopping to his feet. “You think I don’t fucking know that my shitty father left me with abandonment issues? Convinced me early on that I will never be loved? That my fuckface brother didn’t nail that home with literally years of bullying me and blaming me? I don’t need a fucking therapist to tell me all that shit! I am well fucking aware!”

Nick stomped into Charlie’s room and quickly stuffed himself back into his clothes and shoes. Wordlessly, he marched out of the room, past Charlie in the living room and to the front door, where he grabbed his bag and left, slamming the door behind him.

Things had been going so fucking well with Charlie, Nick stewed as he made his way to the street and toward home, news truck be damned. He’d completely forgotten about Harry Fucking Greene and Borella Fucking Maguire. Had some fucking life-changing sex. And then Charlie had to fucking wreck it all with his stupid fucking psychoanalyzing. 

That fact that Charlie was almost certainly correct only made Nick more furious.

After going into his building through a back door, Nick walked through their darkened flat and splayed out on his bed before shoving his face into a pillow and screaming until he went hoarse and fell into a tormented sleep.

 

***

 

A couple nights later, Nick had volunteered to do the dishes, ready to take out his lingering frustration with Charlie on some stubborn grease stains. He was busy scrubbing the roasting pan when a knock on the front door preceded Imogen walking in with Charlie for movie night. Of course.

Nick only glanced up briefly, a frown set on his face, before taking the scouring pad and going bananas on that grease. Soon the pan looked practically brand new, and Charlie had gotten the message and slunk off to the living room to chat with Sai and Imogen. 

When he had completely run out of things to do — Nick had even given the sink a good rub-down — he finally gave up and went out to the living room.

“Finally!” Imogen exclaimed, clapping her hands. She popped up to put in the DVD and Nick slid into her seat. It was a dick move, but it meant Sai was placed in between himself and Charlie as a barrier on the sofa.

“Oh, you stole my seat,” Imogen said when she turned back around.

Nick shrugged. “Sorry.”

Imogen looked between Nick and Charlie for a moment before shrugging in response. She came over and sat on the floor between Sai’s legs as the film began: 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Another old American movie?” Nick complained as the Barenaked Ladies song played over shots of Seattle.

“Another romcom?” Charlie added. 

Imogen tutted. “Quiet, both of you! This is a classic! Charlie, it’s based on Shakespeare, you know. And Nick, this movie is a little younger than us, actually, so please don’t be calling it old.”

Nick and Charlie both sighed and leaned back in their seats, settling in for the film. Nick had to admit… the mix of Julia Stiles and Heath Ledger wasn’t bad. Although he found himself strangely drawn to Joseph Gordon-Levitt, as well, with his dark, wavy hair… His character posed as a French tutor to get closer to a girl, despite not knowing any French. Late in the film, the girl catches on and presses him in rapid-fire French as to why he hadn’t yet asked her on a date. When he’s unable to understand her, she stalks off angrily.

Sai gently hit Nick with one hand. “Mate, was that French accurate?” Sai always asked Nick that anytime someone in a film or television show spoke French. Nick did it to Sai in return whenever someone spoke Hindi in their media, but that happened rather rarely so it didn’t come up much.

“Oui,” Nick replied. “The accents weren’t great but for American teenagers, not bad. Although I’ll admit I didn’t know the word for ‘parsnip’.”

“Wait, you speak French?” Charlie asked, leaning over to look around Sai.

Nick met his gaze for just a moment before turning back to the film. “Oui.”

“You never fucking said!”

“You never fucking asked.”

“Boys, please,” Imogen protested. “We’re missing a key development in the tertiary romance plot!”

Nick rolled his eyes and settled back down. 

Twenty minutes later, the credits were rolling, and Nick happily hopped up.

“Why do you speak French?” Charlie demanded as the lights blinked back on. 

“My father’s French. Grew up bilingual.”

“And you never told me because…”

“Like I said, because you never bloody asked.”

“Do you have any idea what a useful thing that could be?” Charlie exclaimed. “I could have had you doing French media!”

Nick scrunched up his face. “Why would French media want to talk to me?”

“I’d have made it work,” Charlie fired back. “The point isn’t that French media would want to talk to you, it’s that you could talk to them! Bradley Cooper did insane numbers on social media when he went on that French show and spoke fluently. It’s a total panty-dropper.”

“Panty-dropper?” Nick replied. “Is that your professional opinion?”

“Ooookay,” Sai said loudly, interrupting their fight. “Immy, want to go get some ice cream? Leave these two to their… professional discussion?”

“Yes, please!” she said, jumping up.

“We’ll be back in like 20 minutes, you boys better have patched things up by then,” Sai said as they grabbed their coats and were out the door. Nick was too bewildered and frustrated to really respond.

And then it was just him and Charlie, staring each other down.

“Do you really speak French?” Charlie asked quizzically, stepping up close to Nick.

“Oui, je parle bien français, toi petit cobaye grinçant,” Nick fired back, pressing his chest against Charlie.

“Okay, well I missed most of that, but I made out ‘bien français’ so I’ll have to take your word for it,” Charlie replied, his eyes darting down to Nick’s lips.

And then they were snogging.

Each wrapped his arms around the other, pulling them tight together as tongues slid around sloppily in their mouths. It wasn’t long before Charlie was fumbling against Nick’s belt buckle, undoing it and batting the metal aside to undo the button on his jeans.

Nick broke away, gasping. “What, here in the living room?”

Charlie looked around and then grabbed Nick’s hand. “You’re right, come on.”

He pulled Nick into his bedroom, twirling him through the entrance before closing and locking the door behind him. 

“Bed,” Charlie ordered with a flicked wrist. “Gonna suck you.”

Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped off his shirt and hopped up onto the mattress, wiggling his pants down around his knees and freeing his already rock-hard cock. Charlie practically pounced, actually jumping through the air and landing astride Nick with a bounce that sent his dick slapping pre-cum onto his abdomen. 

They’d barely settled when Charlie dipped down and calmly deep-throated Nick on the first go. Nick made some embarrassing noises as his head tickled the back of Charlie’s throat. The curly haired man hummed, and Nick gasped as the vibrations massaged his head. Charlie pulled back and began licking up and down Nick’s cock, expertly moving Nick toward ecstasy.

As he sucked, Charlie’s hands roved upward, feeling along the bumpy plains of Nick’s abs until they reached his chest, where one tweaked Nick’s nipple while the other simply grabbed at his meaty muscles and squeezed. Nick gasped out some laughter until he felt himself approaching climax. He warned Charlie, but that only encouraged him to double down on his efforts until, just as Nick peaked, Charlie again deep throated him and Nick’s cum gushed down Charlie’s eager gullet. As he came, Nick writhed around, his hands clenching aimlessly at the sheets and his back arching off the bed until finally he collapsed, spent.

Charlie slowly let Nick fall from his tongue and then kissed his way north, past Nick’s pubic hair, up his treasure trail, along his abs until finally he reached Nick’s chest, where Charlie latched on to several places and left hickeys. Nick thought about saying no, but fuck it. He’d just hide it with a towel around his neck or something.

“What about you?” Nick asked lazily. He’d gone pretty well boneless after Charlie sucked not just his seed but also most of his life force out through his cock.

Charlie sat up.

“Wanna beat off onto your tits,” he said, lust dripping from every word.

“My… tits?” Nick asked, looking down at his chest.

“Yeah. Your beautiful, hairy tits. Please can I?”

Nick had to admit his chest was pretty ample. All those push-ups. If that’s what Charlie liked about him, who was Nick to deny? He nodded, and Charlie hopped off the bed, shucked his pants and jumped back up, straddling Nick’s stomach. His lengthy cock landed on Nick’s body like a salami, which Charlie then gripped and began stroking.

“Do you want lube?” Nick asked.

“No,” Charlie replied. “Like a… dry rub.”

Nick let his hands wander up and down Charlie’s thighs, feeling his tense body pulse as Charlie chased his pleasure. His eyes stared down at Nick’s chest, almost all of the icy blue overtaken by lurid black. Charlie’s breathing was heavy and it wasn’t long before Charlie’s pace began to quicken and his breathing more halting. He placed one hand on Nick’s chest, right over the nipple, pressing into his flesh, and Nick flexed for him, turning what was soft, hard.

“Come for me, Char,” he uttered, sounding wrecked. “Come on my hairy tits.”

That seemed to push him over the edge. Charlie panted as milky white ropes shot out and landed right on their targets, sinking into the hairs adorning Nick’s chest. The sensation was warm, actually, but it was beat out by how it felt having Charlie fall apart on top of Nick, his body shaking and his thighs squeezing Nick’s torso. Charlie’s hair swinging in the air as his head bobbed up and down was also quite lovely to watch as he came apart.

Before he could react, Charlie suddenly scooted down Nick’s body so he could lean over and — oh, start licking his own cum off Nick’s chest. Nick actually whimpered at the unholy sight, Charlie’s tongue lolling out of his mouth, scooping up his own seed and swallowing it down so it could land right on top of Nick’s own release in his stomach. Nick’s poor spent cock twitched a little at the image. Soon enough, nothing was left but chest hair soaked from Charlie’s saliva. Nick reached down and placed a hand along Charlie’s jawline, gently pulling him up for a kiss, where Nick could taste Charlie on his tongue. It was intoxicating.

They didn’t kiss for long before Charlie reared back and sat upright.

“When did Imogen and Sai say they’d return?” he asked.

“I dunno… 20 minutes, I think.”

“How long’s it been?”

Nick tried to think. Sai and Imogen had left, then they’d basically immediately fucked. Nick had no idea how much time had passed. He didn’t hear any movement out in the main area, so they probably hadn’t returned.

“We’d better get dressed,” Nick said. Charlie breathed in deeply, then nodded, and swung his leg over Nick to stand on the floor. They redressed in silence, but a comfortable one, for once.

His clothes back on, Nick sat on the edge of his bed and checked his phone in case Sai had left a message. The screen was blank. As he locked it, he felt Charlie settle on the mattress beside him.

“Nick… I didn’t come over to fight tonight, I swear,” Charlie said. Nick looked at the ground as he clasped his hands in his lap. “In fact, I came to apologise. I shouldn’t have said that stuff. It was wrong to… psychoanalyse you like that. I still think you could benefit from therapy, but… I went about that the wrong way. I’m sorry.”

Nick struggled with how to respond. He wasn’t sure what to do. Nick knew how to be angry at Charlie. He knew how to fuck around with Charlie. He knew how to fuck Charlie. 

He didn’t know how to talk to Charlie.

So he took the cheap way out. Nick nodded and muttered thanks, not meeting Charlie’s gaze.

They sat a few more seconds before Charlie spoke again.

“Any. Uh. Any word on the Davenport thing?” Charlie asked hesitantly.

There had been radio silence from the team management. Otis told Nick the day after the incident that he’d gone to bat for him with Coach Singh and the owners, explained that Nick had essentially been tricked and that the reporter was blowing the issue up to stir up shit. He hadn’t said much about it, but Nick suspected Otis had also defended him regarding the incident with Harry and the destroyed cubby. But there were only so many times you could fuck up like that and still have a job.

So Nick shook his head. No, no word.

Charlie landed a hand on Nick’s leg, right above the knee, in a gesture of comfort.

“This seems like a situation where no news is good news, yeah?”

Nick nodded wordlessly.

Charlie’s hand stayed on his leg. Nick looked down at it, at Charlie’s bony, slender fingers as they rubbed almost imperceptibly against the denim. Nick was suddenly hyper aware of his own breathing, and of the air sucking in and blowing out of Charlie’s mouth. He turned his head, not looking directly at Charlie but far enough to get a good look in his peripheral vision. Charlie was also turned a bit toward Nick, looking down at his hand on his leg.

“Nick…” Charlie said, so quietly that Nick thought he might have imagined it.

Then the sound of the flat’s front door closing and Imogen talking in the entryway had Charlie yank his hand back like it had touched the hob. Both men jumped up.

“Shit,” Charlie whispered.

“Um… go — go in the bathroom, yeah, pretend to use the loo,” Nick said, guiding Charlie in that direction. “Then come out in a minute or two.”

Charlie walked into the closet toward the loo as Nick broke away to head back into the living room.

“Heya,” Sai said when he saw Nick emerge. He was just setting a brown bag down on the table.

“Nicky!” Imogen exclaimed from the kitchen, where she was pulling out bowls and spoons.

“Don’t call me that,” Nick replied.

“Charlie go home?”

“Er, no. He’s just — I was just showing him to the loo,” Nick said, jerking his thumb back toward his bedroom. Just then, a faint flush sound echoed through the flat.

“You two still fighting?” Sai asked. “Or did you kiss and make up?”

Nick kept a carefully neutral face. “Something like that.”

Charlie emerged, wiping his hands on his pants — a nice touch, Nick thought.

“Charlie!” Imogen cried out. “Please have some ice cream with us? We got cappuccino crunch, chocolate thunder and bubblegum flavours. Please don't judge the bubblegum but... it's Nick's favourite.”

Charlie made a thinking face for a moment before responding. “Sounds like an interesting flavour. But, uh, I think I’ll stick with chocolate thunder.” 

“See?” Imogen said, looking pointedly at Nick. “Charlie makes good choices.”

Notes:

I honestly didn’t intend them to have shower sex, but Nick was apparently still quite horny.

“Oui, je parle bien français, toi petit cobaye grinçant.” = “Yes, I really speak French, you squeaky little guinea pig.”

Chapter 14

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: A press conference goes awry. Guess how Nick works off his frustration. Charlie flies a little too close to the sun. Movie night is awkward.

This time: Sai and Imogen's movie night choice isn't super subtle. Nick finds a cause he's actually good at. Then he and Charlie celebrate a Blackbirds victory.

Notes:

As you can see from the updated tags, today’s chapter introduces a new element to Scorched Earth: An armpit kink. I honestly hadn’t included this in my initial outline when I started writing and publishing this fic a few months ago, but I feel compelled to explore it through Nick and Charlie.

I understand if this isn’t something you want to read, so if so and you wish to continue with Scorched Earth, I’ve placed “🥙” emojis around the section of today’s chapter containing this kink. Some future chapters will also contain this kink and any such acts will be similarly marked. But it’s not a totally random story element, and it’s not just about smut, so I hope you’ll consider reading it. If not, I thank you for your patronage.

On a completely unrelated note, thank you to smut consultant planttaxonomy for their help with certain portions of this chapter.

And my continued, undying gratitude to KitSaidOui for his beta expertise and for taking on an outsized role in my mental well being.

Nick scrolled aimlessly on Instagram as he sat on the sofa, waiting for Charlie to arrive so they could have another film night. 

Professionally, he was feeling better after the owners cleared him of any trouble regarding the Davenport situation. Mr. Davenport certainly didn’t have good things to say about Nick, but the old man also preferred not to rock the boat by torpedoing the career of an up-and-coming athlete. Otis told Nick in a whisper that apparently Davenport had told the owner it was likely Nick was telling the truth about everything and that his daughter probably had cooked up the whole scheme. Apparently she had taken extreme measures to get her parents’ attention before. Sweet family.

Nick had also escaped any punishment related to the incident where he destroyed Harry’s cubby and belongings. Otis had successfully played it off as roughhousing gone awry, apparently thanks to the help of some juicy blackmail he held over Harry’s head to stop him from saying differently. Nick begged Otis to tell him, but Otis held fast. However, Nick noticed his eyes flicker when Nick was listing guesses and mentioned tax evasion. 

Things were looking good at work.

But Nick’s private life was increasingly messy.

He and Charlie had hooked up twice since the last film night, substituting moans and gasps and grunts for the conversation both of them clearly knew they ought to be having. 

But Nick wasn’t sure what that conversation would be, exactly. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He vacillated back and forth. Sometimes he thought about telling Charlie that they needed to cool off before this thing between them brought on feelings. Sometimes Nick thought about saying fuck it, I like you, Charlie, I like you a lot and I can’t pretend it’s hate anymore. Both options make his stomach twist. 

The twisting only continued when he thought about what Charlie might say. The broken-sounding “Nick…” right before Sai and Imogen came back with the ice cream didn’t exactly scream, Yes, what comes across as derision is actually attraction, and I’d love to be in a relationship with a closeted basket case!

A knock at the door breaks Nick’s runaway train of thought. 

“Nick, can you get that?” Sai calls out from the kitchen, where he and Imogen are making snacks — and, knowing them, probably nuzzling a little, too.

He grunted and walked to the door.

“Hello,” Nick said as he opened it.

“Sup,” Charlie replied.

Sup?

Dear lord. Cringe and suspect. The only thing that stopped Nick from commenting on it then and there was the look on Charlie’s face, like he’d just gotten a whiff of dead skunk.

Nick took Charlie's coat and hung it in the closet before they walked through to the living room. Charlie plopped down on one end of the sofa, and Nick, being brave, sat down beside him. Sai and Imogen were twirling about the kitchen, busy chatting about some kind of fancy popcorn they were making.

“So… what’s tonight’s pick?” Charlie asked.

“Imogen picked Pride and Prejudice,” Nick replied. “2005. Kiera Knightley. That… other guy. From Succession.”

“Pride and Prejudice, huh,” Charlie said slowly. “Imogen and Sai really aren’t being subtle with the enemies-to-lovers films here, are they?”

Nick suppressed a giggle. Sai and Imogen thought they were real smooth.

Charlie twisted back to check Sai and Imogen were still in the kitchen, then said lowly to Nick, “You know I’m the Kiera Knightley in this situation, right?”

“And I’m Mr. Darcy?” Nick replied. “Good lord, ew.”

“Better him than Mr. Collins,” Charlie shot back.

“But he’s so fortunately distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Nick said.

Whatever Charlie had meant to say next died on his tongue as his jaw hung open. His eyes crinkled with — astonishment, bemusement, and Nick wasn’t sure if he was kidding himself on the last one, but also seemingly a little arousal.

Nick shrugged. “I have kind of a thing for Kiera Knightley.”

“He always has,” Sai said, setting down the bowl of popcorn. “I cannot tell you how many times he made me watch Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Sai took drink orders and returned to the kitchen.

Charlie fixed on Nick with a huge smirk. “You like Orlando Bloom, don’t you?” He kept voice low enough it wouldn’t carry.

Nick couldn’t stop the blush working its way up his neck.

“Oh my god, that is so precious,” Charlie teased. “I’m absolutely making you watch Lord of the Rings with me.”

“Joke’s on you,” Nick replied. “Viggo Mortenson and Liv Tyler?” He bit his lip dramatically, making Charlie giggle and slap his arm. “But let me guess… you’re an Éomer girlie, aren’t you, Char?”

Now it was Charlie’s turn to blush. “No comment,” he said, picking up the popcorn bowl and studying it very intently.

Nick chuckled and rearranged himself as Sai and Imogen came to join them, settling in for the film.

 

***

 

Charlie accompanied Imogen to their next match, despite the frigid mid-December temperatures. He’d arranged for a local youth rugby group to attend the game and take pictures with Nick afterward, another low-level image-improving event.

Nick didn’t know how, but Charlie had apparently snagged his baseball cap and wore it that day, waving happily from the stands next to Imogen. Nick grumbled, but didn’t have much fight in him. He knew where Charlie lived, he’d get it back sooner or later.

The game went well, and they trounced the Bonobos, so Nick was in excellent spirits after the game. Having arranged the meeting with the team security before, Charlie ushered the group down to the bottom of the stands, where Nick ran up on the field to greet them, a group of maybe 20 boys, a couple of girls and a half-dozen adult chaperones.

“Hi everyone, I’m Nick Nelson, and I play fly-half for the Blackbirds.”

The kids all said hello back, but one louder voice jumped out and was the only one to say Nick’s name. Nick looked through the crowd until he discovered a familiar face.

“Robin!” he called out. 

The little boy’s grin widened so much Nick was afraid he was going to hurt his face.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Nick said. The rest of the visiting group was looking back and forth between them. “Robin and I are old friends, aren’t we?”

Robin just nodded, words apparently escaping him.

“Oi, Nick, who are your friends?” Otis jogged up just then, along with Christian, Sai and a couple of other guys from the team.

“That’s my mate Robin,” Nick said, pointing to him, “and all his rugby club friends, here for a special visit.”

“You all play rugby?” Otis asked. “Anyone play my position, left wing?”

One boy raised his hand, and Otis reached out for a high five. He repeated the question with Christian and Sai’s positions.

“Oh, oi, we gotta go,” Christian said, showing Otis the time on his phone.

“Can we all get a selfie, first?” Nick asked. The lads nodded and the kids all cheered. Charlie passed him his phone and Nick stretched his arm out, flashing a peace sign with his other hand and making sure everyone was in the shot and yelling “cheese” as he took half a dozen photos to be safe. Nick passed Charlie back his phone, making sure to loudly ask him for a copy so the kids would hear. Otis played along, saying he wanted to put it on his Instagram, and a couple of the kids looked like they were going to faint.

“All right, you lads go on, I’m just gonna chat with them for a minute,” Nick said, patting Otis on the back before they departed.

Nick took a couple of questions, including some standard fare about how he’d gotten started in rugby, who his own favourite players are and what it was like being in the pros. Then Robin raised his hand.

“What was that move you played in the second half?” he asked. “The one that broke through and scored?”

Nick nodded. He knew what Robin was referring to — it had secured their lead over the Bonobos.

“That’s called a loop play,” he explained. “I chose it because it’s confusing for the other side. See, what you do is… er, well, it’s a little hard to explain.” He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “Tell you what, why don’t you guys come on down here and we’ll act it out, then it’ll be way easier to follow.”

Their little faces lit up like Santa himself had just crash-landed in the try zone.

The security staff opened a gate and let them through. Nick spent some time getting everyone positioned, putting Robin in his place as fly-half. He set it up with the ruck passing Robin the ball, then explained how he has a secret signal he sends the inside centre before they got into the more complicated manoeuvring that has the ball zig-zagging between the other team until they break through the defence and make a run for the try zone.

They walked through it, then Nick had them act out the play, sans tackling, of course. Robin and his side were easily able to breach the other team’s defence for a score, and all the kids cheered after, even those who’d been acting out the losing side.

“Nick, Nick, can you show us your cross-kick?” Robin asked, bouncing up and down in excitement.

He suddenly realised he’d been working with the kids for a while. He looked over at the chaperones standing on the sidelines and asked if it was okay to show them something else. One of them shouted back that they could spare 15 minutes before their bus needed to leave.

Nick nodded and went to turn back to the kids when he caught a glimpse of Charlie’s face. It was like a blast of warm air in the chill December atmosphere. Charlie was looking at Nick with wonder and amazement. What, just for playing with these kids for a bit? Anyone would do the same. In fact, Nick had been amazed how quickly they were able to pick up and execute the loop play. It had taken bloody Harry half a day to figure out the intricacies of that one. 

He met Charlie’s gaze and nodded at him slightly. The curly hair man blushed and threw his scarf up closer around his neck before Nick turned back to the kids.

A while later, Nick waved goodbye as the kids were ushered off hurriedly by their chaperones, making sure to bump fists with Robin on his way out. Nick had a huge and genuine grin on his face — he knew that just with a little bit of his time, he’d made all these kids’ weeks and probably made Robin some kind of primary school celebrity.

Once they were out of sight, he turned to head down the tunnel to the locker room and saw Charlie staring at him with his jaw dropped.

“Nick!”

Fuck. Had Nick fucked something up?

“What?” he asked warily.

“That’s was un-fucking-believable!” Charlie exclaimed, his hands jazzing out in front of him.

Relief flooded Nick’s chest — his track record with philanthropic events wasn’t great. But he’d felt so natural and good in the moment that he hadn’t even been self-concious about whether he might fuck it up.

“So… it was good?”

Nick began to shiver as the activity and adrenaline of gameplay wore off and the December chill set in. He grabbed his bag and started walking inside as Charlie followed.

“Nick, holy shit, yes,” Charlie said, falling in beside him. “Those kids had an amazing time, they’re never gonna forget getting to actually play rugby on a professional field with a star player. And all the adults were commenting about what a great thing this was. Well, one was tapping her foot about leaving but, I mean, it’s their bus, it can wait a few minutes.”

Nick grimaced a little. “How long were we out there?”

“In total, almost an hour,” Charlie said.

“Wow,” Nick replied. He hadn’t noticed the time passing at all. “That… explains why the locker room is completely deserted.”

It was empty and dead quiet; everyone had clearly sped out of there for the post-win celebration. Nick had been so caught up playing with the kids he had completely forgotten.

“You want to go to the party?” he asked Charlie as he reached his locker. Nick set down his phone and bag.

“You… want me to come with you?”

Nick paused before nodding. “Yeah. You know. As a friend.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay.”

Nick grinned and then shivered — that cold had really set into his bones.

“I got kind of chilled out there. I’m gonna hit the sauna real quick. We have a lounge down the hall if you want to wait there? Ten minutes tops, I’ll be fast.”

Charlie nodded, and Nick turned to walk toward the back of the locker room and into the shower area. He stripped off his kit and tossed it in the laundry bin before grabbing a towel and entering a shower. He was under the spray only long enough to wash away the dirt and grass stuck to his legs and arms, and then he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist.

Nick walked into the sauna and flicked on the timer, grateful that it was kept warm for post-game therapy. He sat down and leaned his arms back on the rear bench, letting the warmth soak into his skin and through his muscles. He felt himself relax, and was just starting to wish he had more time when the door was pulled open. He opened his eyes and found Charlie sticking his head in.

“You all right?” Nick asked, sitting upright.

“Yeah, all right,” Charlie replied. “I just… I just thought… well I was also out in the cold for a long time—”

“Oh my god,” Nick yelped. “I’m sorry, I totally should have offered you to join me. Go ahead, if you like, there are extra towels out there.”

Charlie nodded and slipped back outside, presumably to remove his trousers and shirt. A minute later, the door opened again, but somehow Nick was not prepared for what he saw.

Charlie strode in, wearing nothing but a yellow jockstrap — a very full yellow jockstrap. Nick’s dick immediately began swelling against the cotton wrapped around his waist. His face must have glitched, because Charlie stopped and smirked before closing the gap and fucking straddling Nick right there in the sauna.

The heat poured around them, sweat dripping down Nick’s body as Charlie’s own began to glisten.

“You were so fucking sexy today, Nick,” Charlie murmured into his ear as he ground down on Nick’s rapidly growing erection. 

Nick tried to respond, but when he opened his throat all he could do was emit a horny strangled noise. 

“And you know me,” Charlie said, licking and nipping his way from Nick’s earlobe up his neck and to his mouth. “I like positive reinforcement. Would you like some positive reinforcement?”

Nick’s eyes blurred out for a moment before his last couple of brain cells initiated a nod and then called it a night. 

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

Charlie kissed him again, then moved down his throat to his chest. Nick thought Charlie might keep moving south, but instead his head jerked laterally, nipping and suckling across Nick’s skin until suddenly, Charlie was burying his face in Nick’s armpit and breathing deeply. Confused, Nick opened his arm up further, letting Charlie shove his face even deeper. He hadn’t bothered scrubbing there in his quick pre-sauna shower, and Nick would have thought he was pretty rank after a long game, but it didn’t seem to phase Charlie. In fact, he only seemed to grow more exuberant after breathing in Nick’s scent.

“So fucking manly, oh my god,” Charlie said as he pulled back and shifted to Nick’s other side.

Despite not really understanding, Nick opened his arm in a sign of welcome, and Charlie dove in, this time adding a few licks that tickled Nick’s skin. What started out as a tentative lick grew in size until Charlie was slathering long stripes up Nick’s armpit hair. It tickled, and Nick giggled a little at the unexpected but not unwelcome feeling. If his pits hadn’t been completely soaked already from sweat and steam, Charlie would have ensured the hairs were completely saturated.

“You… you like that?” Nick finally asked, regaining some power of speech.

“Like it? I love how musky you smell,” Charlie replied. His eyes were darkened, the usual blue surrendering to inky black. “Oh god, I’m so fucking hard right now.”

Nick looked down and saw Charlie’s ample dick indeed was extremely hard inside the jock strap. He wasn’t sure how the small pouch of fabric was holding back that Gyarados -sized cock, but it was showing a growing stain already.

Charlie leaned over and grabbed a couple of items that he must have brought with him — Nick’s eyes were too focused on… other things when Charlie entered to notice. Leaving a condom on the bench — !!! — Charlie held up a small bottle of lube.

“Hold out your hand,” he said. Nick dumbly lifted his right hand, and Charlie squirted some of the slick liquid onto his fingers. “Okay, now open me up.”

Nick’s eyes widened.

“Here?”

Charlie looked around at the empty sauna. “Why not? This place is already a ghost town. And… I can feel you want to.” As he spoke those last words, Charlie ground down on Nick’s lap, the friction against his very hard cock making him whimper and his eyes flutter. 

Okay, sauna sex it was. Nick reached around Charlie and pressed his slicked fingers against his hole. Nick knew they couldn’t stay in the sauna very long for health and safety reasons — even a short fuck would likely go over the recommended limit. He was also horny beyond belief, and they were both young and healthy, so Nick forged on, opening Charlie up with expert precision. 

They had fucked enough times now that Nick had gotten used to the subtle signals Charlie sent him as he stretched, so Nick was able to focus on watching Charlie above him as he worked. Charlie’s head lolled backwards as Nick scissored him, his beautiful throat displayed right before Nick’s hungry eyes. He leaned forward and began kissing him, Charlie’s increasingly maroon skin salty with sweat on Nick’s tongue.

His cock straining in its towel prison, Nick began straight up licking Charlie’s skin, laving his tongue over his throat as Charlie growled. Nick worked his way south, letting his mouth slide over Charlie’s clavicles as he pushed a third finger inside. Charlie shuddered at the breach, lifting his hips to give Nick better access and consequently bringing his nipples within the reach of Nick’s lips. His free hand pressed to Charlie’s back, skin slipping against skin, Nick latched on and grazed the areolas until he felt the little nibs form.

Charlie finally looked down and gasped. “I’m ready.”

Nick withdrew his hand, wiping it dry on his towel as Charlie stood. He reached down and grabbed Nick’s towel, pulling it open and exposing his hard, weeping cock. Charlie opened the condom and slid it onto Nick, slathered him with even more lube and pushed some more up inside him. Something about the sweat and the heat was making it dry up quickly, so Nick kept the bottle close by for reapplication.

Then Charlie straddled him, his cock still enclosed in his yellow jockstrap. Why did he even own a jockstrap when he was so anti-sport, Nick wondered. But he didn’t wonder for long, because as soon as Charlie began sinking down his length, Nick’s head was emptier than a can of White Claw in a uni girl’s hand after two minutes. 

Nick gawped into the air like a fish out of water as Charlie enveloped his cock. As he bottomed out, his cheeks resting on Nick’s hips, the two men gasped, then kissed a little as Charlie adjusted. Then he lifted himself using his knees before slamming back down onto Nick, impaling himself over and over. As they bounced together, Charlie’s encaged cock dragged up and down Nick’s abs, which were flexing from the strain and the position.

Both were sweating profusely — but after all, this was literally the hottest sex they’d ever had.  

After a few minutes, the slide felt rougher. Nick slowed them to a stop, then coaxed Charlie into lifting himself up. Nick reapplied to both his cock and inside Charlie, then dropped Charlie back down onto his dick, once again a delicious slide.

Nick felt a burst of energy push through the calidity in his bones. He suddenly shifted his buttocks forward onto the edge of the bench and planted his feet on the ground. Leaning back, he thrust his hips up, actively fucking up into Charlie. The curly haired man held on for dear life.

Nick kept one hand on Charlie’s hip to steady him, but pulled the other back to tuck his hand behind his head, exposing his armpit. A waggle of his eyebrows was all it took for Charlie to bend over and dive headfirst into the soaked patch. Nick figured his pheromones must be peaking as Charlie whimpered while sucking in breath through his nose and licking long stripes up the musky hair.

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

It wasn’t long before Charlie pulled his head back enough to see Nick.

“Gonna… gonna… Nick, free me, please.”

Nick looked between them at the strained jockstrap. He brought his arm down and snaked it between them, grabbing the offending cloth and yanking it off of Charlie’s dick, pulling the fabric to one side enough to free the monstrosity. Mere seconds later, Charlie began coating Nick’s throat, chest and stomach with a shower of cum. Nick watched in fascination as his own sweat made it difficult to stick to his body. Instead, Charlie’s spend slid slowly down until it got caught up in the hair on his chest and stomach and in the patch above his cock.

He fucked up into Charlie once, twice more, then was blowing his stack, groaning and grunting animalistically as his own essence filled the condom inside Charlie. Completely drained, Nick collapsed onto the bench, his towel being the only thing keeping him from sliding off and onto the floor like the blob of jelly he felt like. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Charlie said, trying to catch his breath. “That was…”

Nick laughed. “Yeah.”

Charlie pulled off Nick until his cock fell out of him and flopped down. Charlie’s legs shook and he stumbled slightly.

“Feeling kind of woozy,” he said, one hand to his sweat-soaked temple. In fact, Charlie’s curls were practically matted to his head. It was sexy as hell.

Nick rolled the condom off, tying the end to contain the copious white liquid he’d left inside. “Yeah, we can’t stay in here.”

Charlie tucked himself back into his jock strap and Nick gathered up the evidence of their lovemaking before wrapping his towel back around his waist and standing, Charlie’s essence glistening like little diamonds from where it was caught up in his body hair.

They stepped out of the sauna as Nick flicked off the heater. There was a fridge full of sports drinks right outside — Nick handed one to Charlie and downed half of his own bottle. They desperately needed the electrolytes. The regular temperature felt like a rush of cool air on their skin, and the chilled drinks carved a path of ice down their throats and into their stomachs.

“So… guess we need to go to the party now,” Charlie said, wiping his brow.

Nick had said they would. He was sure his phone had half a dozen texts from Sai and the others wondering where he was. It was a good idea to show his face around team events, in case scouts were hanging around. And he really was comfortable bringing Charlie, even if they couldn’t disclose the extent of their relationship. Not that Nick knew what the contour was, exactly, anymore.

But he looked at Charlie as he gulped down the dregs of his sports drink. He didn’t want to go to the bloody party. He wanted to be alone with Charlie.

Fuck it.

“If you want to go to the party, we can do that,” Nick said. “Or… I was thinking… I’m fucking knackered after that, er, performance. Maybe we could just go back to yours and watch Lord of the Rings? Debate whether or not Frodo and Sam explored each other’s bodies?”

Charlie lit up. “Oh my god, yes!” he exclaimed. 

Nick grabbed Charlie’s hand and began pulling him toward the shower stalls.

“And there’s no debate, Sam and Frodo absolutely boinked,” Charlie said. “But! Do you think Aragorn and Boromir ever hate fucked?”

Notes:

Sauna sex comes with risks and challenges, so don’t do it lightly, particularly if you have a heart condition. Please consult with your local Scandinavian for advice.

Fun fact: Bonobos are well documented to use sex rather than violence to resolve conflict and reduce stress. Many bonobos have also displayed bisexual behaviour — meaning they have sex with male and female bonobos, not that they go around cuffing their jeans and cropping their tops. /t

Another fun 🥙 fact: A recent study found evidence that smelling armpit sweat is a useful therapy for social anxiety.

Chapter 15

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Sai and Imogen's movie night choice isn't super subtle. Nick finds a cause he's actually good at. He and Charlie celebrate a Blackbirds victory.

This time: It’s Christmas with the Nelsons! But why is Charlie there? Say hello to Sarah, Nellie and Henry (the pug).

Notes:

Amazingly, there are not one but two new works spun off from Scorched Earth, and I’m so incredibly honored and humbled.

First, BeezusRed has graced us with their dulcet tones in a podfic reading of Scorched Earth! They truly bring arsehole!Nick to life. Go listen to Chapter 1 now! (And think about all the stuff Beezy will be reading in later chapters… 😈)

And then the incredible Skasi6 has started writing a Scorched Earth AU. You'll recall on several occasions in this fic, Sai and Imogen have hit on Nick for a threesome — somewhat jokingly, but not entirely, to be honest. Skasi6’s new fic, Singed Allegiance, asks what would have happened if, before he ever met Charlie, Nick had given in to temptation. Please go give it a read, or a listen, because Skasi6 has turned the first chapter into a podfic as well!

Last but not least, my deepest gratitude for KitSaidOui, the most dedicated beta reader a guy could ever hope for, and he’s real and doing my fic. He is a dream come true.

“Charlie, this is my mum. Mum, this is Charlie Spring.”

“Hello, Mrs. Nelson, nice to meet —”

Charlie was cut off when Nick’s mother jumped forward and pulled him into a tight hug, the kind where you pivot back and forth a little. “Darling, please call me Sarah!” she exclaimed. 

“Not so hard, mum,” Nick said pleadingly. “He’s only tiny.”

“Oh all right, Nicky,” Sarah said, releasing her mama bear arms. 

“Right,” Charlie said dazedly, stumbling slightly as he regained his balance. 

The whole scene was pretty strange, if you asked Nick. Even though it’s his own damn fault for not keeping his yap shut while he was still cum-dumb.

A few days prior, he’d fucked Charlie into the mattress, making him scream Nick’s name as he painted their bodies. It was a few minutes later, after the immediate aftercare, as they lay side by side, that Nick fucked up.

“So, going to see your family for Christmas?” he asked as he lay on his side, idly tracing patterns into Charlie’s stomach with his index finger. That perfect tummy, rising and falling with Charlie’s breaths. 

“Er, no,” Charlie replied. 

“Really?” Why did Nick ask that? It’s none of his damn business.

Charlie sighed. “They’re going to America to spend the holidays with my sister.”

“And you’re not going?”

“Wasn’t asked,” Charlie replied. “And I would have said no if they had. That much time with my mother… in a foreign country where there’s no escape. Honestly I’m not sure the plane would make it over the Atlantic.” Charlie’s voice was light-hearted at the end, but Nick could sense it was false. How could it not be?

“That sucks,” Nick said, fiddling with Charlie’s belly button.

Don’t say it.

No.

Do NOT say it.

“You could…” shut up shut up SHUT UP Nick, “you could come with me? Spend Christmas with me and my mum? And Nellie and Henry, of course.”

Charlie froze beside him, and rightfully so. Nick could hear his breathing hitch. Friends with benefits didn’t make holiday offers. Meet-the-family offers. Nick needed to cover.

“I’m just taking pity on you, that’s all,” he said, withdrawing his hand from Charlie’s stomach. Nick missed the warmth that radiated up his fingers from Charlie’s skin. “Besides, my mum always cooks too much. Two people and a feast for eight.”

The moments dragged on like Nick was in that Salvador Dali painting with the dripping clocks. He started to worry he’d massively fucked up, and began searching for ways to take it back, or play it off as a joke.

But not quickly enough.

“Yeah,” Charlie finally replied. His voice sounded squeaky but steady. “Yeah, okay. If you want.”

Nick did want. He didn’t let himself admit that, even in the safety of his own mind, but he did want.

The intervening days had been a blur. One last match, saying goodbye to Sai and Imogen — they were spending Christmas with Imogen’s family and New Years with Sai’s — his usual dash of last-minute gift shopping, and booking a second train ticket for Dec. 23. He and Charlie hadn’t spoken much during the four-hour ride, Charlie burying his head in a book and Nick sinking into some playlists on his phone. 

Nick was afraid acknowledging all this would make it disappear. Charlie would figure out what he felt and reject him.

No, Nick didn’t want that, he thought as he watched the barren landscape pass by outside the window. Three months ago, he would have said it was because of the PR contract he couldn’t get out of, or his desire not to have to break in a new flack. A month ago, he would have said it’s because he needs Charlie’s help to improve his public image and land a sweet deal after his rookie seasons were up. 

But something had shifted between them. Or inside of Nick. Probably both.

Now, Nick knew deep down that he couldn’t acknowledge this openly because it could scare Charlie away. Everyone always left, that’s true. Charlie would have left, if at first it wasn’t for the contract and then later because of the admittedly insane sex. But if Charlie knew what Nick was really feeling… Nick would never see him again. And that wasn’t something he thought he could weather, not without going off the rails in a very public fashion again.

So he shut up. He said nothing, and they continued walking along the knife’s edge.

No sooner had Charlie regained his balance from Sarah’s overwhelming hug then the world’s sniffliest little pug came bounding over, sounding like a malfunctioning lawnmower.

“You must be Henry!” Charlie said, kneeling down to pet the cute little furball. Henry immediately flopped over onto his stomach, the universal sign for more pets, and Charlie happily obliged.

A few moments later, old Nellie lumbered over, having finally heard the ruckus. She was arthritic, half-blind and three-quarters deaf, and she was still absolutely beautiful. When she realised it was Nick standing in the entryway, Nellie’s tail began wagging profusely and she bounded the rest of the way, as fast as her stiff legs would carry her. 

“Hello, girl,” Nick said, crouching down and wrapping the upper part of his body around Nellie’s. He rubbed her gently, feeling her breathing in and out, before he pulled back. She sniffed his legs and arms before working her way to his face, where she licked him on the cheek a couple times, their greeting ritual complete.

Nick gestured toward their guest. “Nellie, this is Charlie.”

She followed his hand to Charlie, her eyes widening when she saw another human. She wobbled over and sniffed his proffered fist. Satisfied, she gently licked twice.

“Well, now you’ve gotten the official blessing, come in, come in,” Sarah said. The boys followed her upstairs.

“You’ll be staying here, dear, that’s David’s room,” she said, opening the door to a spartan bedroom. David didn’t have many belongings still left here; just a few knick-knacks and books on a shelf were all that differentiated this room from something you’d find in an AirBNB. 

“Thank you, but I hope I’m not putting David out,” Charlie replied.

Sarah frowned. “David hasn’t been here for Christmas in several years,” she said disapprovingly. “This time it’s a ski trip to the Swiss Alps with some work friends, apparently.”

Nick couldn’t say he was disappointed. David was an arse. He wouldn’t have subjected Charlie to him if his brother had been coming. Not just out of fear he might suss them out, but purely to save Charlie from his arseholery. The irony was not lost on Nick.

“Anyway,” Sarah continued after a moment. “That’s the bathroom there,” Sarah said, pointing at the door on the side wall. “It’s a Jack and Jill, connecting to Nicky’s room on the other side, so you’ll be sharing. I’ve left towels and such on the dresser there.”

“Yes, thank you,” Charlie replied.

Nick hiked his thumb in the air. “I’ll just be next door unpacking.”

“And I’ll be downstairs, let me know if you need anything, all right?” Sarah said. “Oh. This is so wonderful. You’re the second friend Nicky’s ever brought home, after Sai, of course.”

“Mum!” Nick complained. “You make me sound like some pathetic loser.”

“Hey, when Sarah’s right, she’s right,” Charlie said with a smirk. 

Sarah just beamed at Charlie before turning away for the stairs. The second she did, Nick was shooting Charlie two middle fingers, which bounced right off Charlie’s cheeky “little shit” smirk.

“You two unpack and rest up, and then when you’re ready I’ve got some special cheeses and stuff for an appetiser,” Sarah called back as she descended the stairs.

Nick smiled after her before tracking over to his room, which could hardly be different from David’s. It was full of colour and light. His shelves were stuffed with books and toys from his childhood. The walls were nearly covered with posters — mostly rugby players, the stars of ten years ago or more, but some Formula 1 stuff too, as well as the poster for Titanic. Hey… it was classier than those weird teens who put pin-ups on their walls for their viewing pleasure. 

Nick flicked on the fairy lights he’d taped to the ceiling when he was 16 in a brief fit of Christmas cheer and that had stayed up in a years-long fit of laziness. It felt more cozy as Nick unpacked his clothes and stowed the suitcase under his bed.

“Wow,” Charlie said from the doorway, where he leaned against the wood with one leg crossed over the other. “This is what it’s like inside Nick Nelson’s head.”

Nick could have gotten defensive, but decided to roll with it instead.

“You like what you see?”

Charlie’s eyes flicked along the walls. 

“I, too, had lots of posters of hot men in my childhood bedroom,” Charlie said. “But I suspect for slightly different reasons… or maybe not?” He crooked an eyebrow in challenge.

Nick called his bluff as he perched on the edge of his bed.

“You don’t seem like the type to have pictures of hot men on your walls,” he replied. “Let me think… I bet you had, like book covers on your wall, like you lived in a Waterstones.”

Charlie’s stiff frown told Nick he was correct.

“And… hold on — yes! I bet you had word art. ‘Live, laugh, love’?”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “It was NOT ‘Live, laugh love,’ oh my god!”

Nick smirked. “But it was something, wasn’t it?”

“It was… “Stand tall, show them all,” Charlie replied. “But it was a tasteful print by a queer artist, not some bloody TK Maxx pillow!”

Nick couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Charlie jumped on him, shouting for him to shut up. Nick just kept laughing as Charlie tried to smother his mouth with his hand, as if he could overpower the rugby star.

Suddenly, Charlie’s protestation stopped. Nick looked at him and then followed his line of sight out the window.

“It’s snowing,” Charlie remarked. The white precipitation floated slowly past the window, illuminated by a fog light of some kind.

They shared a single look and then bounded down the stairs like they were primary school students. Pulling on some coats, they coaxed Nellie and Henry out the door and into the gentle white snow that was already starting to accumulate. 

Henry raced around the yard, having caught the “zoomies,” but Nellie in her stoicism merely stood still, observing the scene and collecting snow on her downy fur. Nick and Charlie had a mild snowball fight, scooping together puny ammo from what snow had fallen. Eventually, they held a photo shoot with Nellie, each of them taking turns sitting next to her and mugging for the camera. 

Eventually, Sarah called them in for dinner. They snacked on her fancy cheeses and such while sipping some tea (into which Nick had dropped some brandy, nice). Both men had just warmed up when the chicken piccata came off the hob and onto the table. It was a lovely meal, and Sarah did her nurse thing where she managed to ask Charlie tons of questions about himself and his life without making him feel as grilled as the chicken. Nobody ever expects the Sarah inquisition…

Nick cleaned up after the meal, letting Sarah drag Charlie into the parlour for more subtle spycraft as he scrubbed pots and pans. By the time he finished, Sarah was yawning and muttering about her early shift tomorrow as a reason to go to bed a little earlier than usual. Nick didn’t protest; he knew his mum had horse-traded her way into getting Christmas Day off, at the cost of working Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. But it was her favourite day of the year, and they had all sorts of little traditions, the two of them.

“So,” Nick said, standing awkwardly.

Charlie just looked at him neutrally.

“Um, we have some board games. Or like, you could just read, if you like. Or I have a Nintendo in my room with some classic games.”

An eyebrow. “Mario Kart?”

Nick nodded.

“Let’s do that, then,” Charlie said.

“I must warn you,” Nick replied. “I’m pretty good.”

“Oh really?” Charlie asked nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. Nick sensed a fin cutting through the water towards him.

“Er… yeah. Uh, come on.”

They trundled up the stairs to Nick’s room, where he booted up the game console. Charlie went to close the door but misjudged it and ended up slamming it.

“Eesh, sorry,” he grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick reassured him. “With her crazy hospital schedule, mum learned a long time ago how to sleep like a log. She’ll be out til morning.”

Nick won the first round easily. Suspiciously easily. He noticed several moments where Charlie clearly held back. Little shit.

“Did you let me win?” he asked, dropping the controller in his lap.

“Let you? Win? What?”

Charlie could use a couple of acting classes.

Nick looked at him. “Listen… don’t hold back. Don’t go easy on me. Challenge me. Make me work for it.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Yes, sir.”

Well, Nick had asked for what happened next. Which was a series of whuppings that were so embarrassing he was thinking about retiring from Mario Kart altogether. 

Soon, Nick noticed it was nearing midnight. Some weariness settled in his bones, the kind you get when you’re home on holiday and your body just lets go. He turned off the console and stood, stretching. Beside him, Charlie also stretched and yawned.

“See you in the morning, then,” Charlie said, stepping toward the bathroom that connected their rooms.

“Night,” Nick said quietly.

“Night.”

The light flicked on, the door slid shut, and Nick was alone in his room. He looked around at the posters… okay, maybe that was a lot of men. He chuckled and removed his shirt and trousers, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs.

A tiny knock on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

It slid open and Charlie stepped back into his room, now in pyjamas.

“You need toothpaste or something?” Nick asked.

Charlie looked hesitant.

“Charlie, what?”

“Erm. You said your mum sleeps like a log?”

Nick nodded.

“So… you wanna…”

Oh. Okay then.

“Yes,” Nick spat out, and then they both strode forward and were kissing, kissing in the middle of his room. Nick had never done anything with anyone in this room, and now he was kissing Charlie Spring there, their rapidly growing erections obvious through their thin clothes. 

Charlie broke the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and then they were kissing again. Nick let his hands rove up and down Charlie’s lithe frame, revelling in the cool skin beneath his fingertips. 

Nick slid south, gnawing at Charlie’s jawline and nipping at his stomach before he hooked his fingers inside his pants and yanked them down to the floor, revealing his prize. On his knees, Nick took Charlie in his mouth, as much as he dared, making him whimper and tremble on uncertain limbs. 

After a few minutes of suckling at Charlie, Nick felt him push against his head until he popped off, a strand of saliva stretching between them until it snapped and fell against Nick’s chin. He looked up and made eye contact with Charlie.

“Have you ever fucked anyone here?” Charlie asked, looking over at Nick’s old queen-sized bed.

Nick shook his head.

“Do you want to?”

Nick nodded his head.

Charlie held out a hand to steady Nick as he rose to his feet. Nick shucked his underwear, his cock finally free to bob in the cool air, and rummaged through his suitcase until he found lube and condoms (he hadn’t assumed… but he had hoped). He turned, seeing Charlie had already climbed up onto the bed and was on all fours, his back arched down toward his head against the mattress. Holy fucking shit, Nick’s cock leaked seeing that. 

He scrambled up onto the bed behind Charlie and quickly warmed some lube on his fingers and prepped Charlie. As he plunged his fingers into him, Nick drank in the sight: Charlie kneeling on his bed, Charlie keening into his pillow, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. Nick felt dizzy with want, though he told himself it was surely just a delayed reaction from the wine at dinner. Oh hell, even Nick wasn’t buying that anymore. 

Before he knew it, Charlie had leaned up and twisted to look at him.

“I’m ready.”

His voice was low and gravelly, and fuck if it didn’t do things to Nick’s guts. 

Even after wiping off the lube onto his sheets, Nick fumbled with the condom wrapper. 

“Here, I’ll do it,” Charlie said, manoeuvring around so he was sitting cross-legged facing Nick, who was still on his knees. Charlie ripped the wrapper open and slid out the rubber circle, placing it over Nick’s head and rolling it down slowly until he was fully sheathed. When Charlie gave him a few tugs, Nick would have gotten harder if that were biologically possible. Since it wasn’t, he settled for fluttering his eyelids and gasping at Charlie’s touch.

“How do you want it,” he asked, putting one hand on Charlie’s shoulder for balance. He secretly hoped it wasn’t doggy style — he’d been on his knees a while now and frankly could use a break.

“I want… side-by-side,” Charlie said. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” Nick quickly replied.

The two men settled themselves into the bed, and once Nick was sure they were both comfortable, he lined up and began pushing in. The welcoming, tight heat he encountered was perfection, as always — his homecoming, ironically. With his free hand, Nick reached around and pressed his palm against Charlie’s stomach, feeling the dark hairs there rustle under his skin. He moved his head forward until it was nestled against Charlie’s, the better to hear his tiny whimpers of pleasure, to smell the almond scent of his hair. 

Nick fucked Charlie, slowly and satisfyingly. Usually their fucking was faster, harder, angrier, but this bore the hallmarks of sex after a long and tiring day. Nick spent time kissing the nape of Charlie’s neck, enjoying the feel of the short, curly hairs against his lips. From the sideways positioning of their bodies, Nick’s balls hung down to one side, slapping against Charlie’s cheeks at the apex of each thrust. It felt incredible.

He needed more. Nick paused and lifted his upper leg into a more bracing pattern, and then began pushing back into Charlie. The new angle and the power he could add using that leg had them both gasping out, Nick straight into Charlie’s ear. Charlie turned his head and they managed to kiss through the awkward angle, even while their bodies undulated back and forth. 

Charlie turned his head back forward, and Nick took to whispering in his ear, just random sex stuff, but he simply couldn’t stop babbling, it was so good. 

Eventually, Nick felt his loose-hanging balls pulling up tight against him as tightness built in his groin. 

“Gonna cum,” he whispered into Charlie’s ear.

“Do it, Nick, god,” Charlie replied, moaning. “Cum in me.”

Nick’s eyes rolled back a bit as he was overcome, yelping as his cock spewed into the condom buried inside Charlie. “Oh god, I — I —” and then Nick was grunting, spasming as the muscles in his legs tightened and released. 

As Nick came down, he kissed and licked behind Charlie’s ear. ”So good, you’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy…”

He felt Charlie sigh, felt his torso expand as he took a deep breath, heard him expel the air with a satisfied sigh.

“Did you…”

Charlie looked back at Nick. “Nope.”

“Can I… is it okay if I suck you off?”

Charlie laughed. “Uh, yeah, it’s more than okay.”

Nick pulled out slowly, then removed the condom and quickly disposed of it off the side of the bed. He scooted back a bit, allowing Charlie to topple onto his back. His body was glistening and red, and he watched Nick with hooded eyes as he kneeled between his limber legs and took Charlie into his mouth. Nick began working Charlie over, and he must have been close, because within a couple of minutes Charlie’s abs were flexing as he curled his body slightly and spilled down Nick’s hungry throat, glottal rasps emanating from his mouth as his orgasm ripped through him.

As he came down, Charlie’s hands moved from gripping the sheets on either side of him to fuss about in Nick’s hair as he slurped the last of Charlie’s spend and cleaned up with his tongue. 

“Good boy,” Charlie cooed, his fingertips running down the crease behind Nick’s ear. “Such a good boy for me.”

Fighting back the shivering prompted by Charlie’s post-coital praise, Nick kissed his way north, past Charlie’s hips, up his steaming hot stomach, past his tight chest and finally meeting his mouth. Nick’s body draped over Charlie’s nude form as they kissed sloppily. 

Weariness really did set in soon, and Nick shuffled off Charlie, pulling him into a spooning position against his front.

Charlie tensed. “Should I go back…”

“Ugh, just stay here,” Nick groaned. “Come on, this draughty house gets rather cold. You’ll thank me and my furnace body come morning.”

A moment, and then Charlie leaned in, pressing back against Nick as he pulled the duvet over them and settled into the pillow. Which now smelled a little of almond.

 

***

 

Nick was awoken when it was still dark out by the intrusive sound of little pug paws scratching against his door. His mother must have just left; when he was home and Sarah left for a shift, Henry always watched her car pull out of the driveway before immediately turning around and bolting up the stairs, pawing Nick’s door until he opened up. 

It was tempting to try to ignore him and go back to sleep, but Nick knew from experience that little bugger would keep going until his blood boiled and he got up, so might as well take care of it immediately.

He slid out from the duvet, moving carefully so as not to disturb Charlie, and went over to the door. Nick sometimes felt odd about being nude around the dogs, but they didn’t seem to care one jot, so he pushed past it. Henry came trotting in the second the door was wide enough; Nellie preferred to stay in her bed downstairs until it was time to go out in the morning. He marched over to the bed and began pawing at the bottom of the mattress. Nick sighed; Henry was too little to get up by himself. He picked up the pup and deposited him gently on top.

The twinge of needing to pee kicked in just then, so Nick popped into the loo. By the time he returned, Henry had settled — curled up against Charlie’s front, with Charlie gently petting him, his eyes still shut.

“Nick?” Charlie asked groggily.

Nick slid back behind Charlie, cuddling up to his warmth after being in the chill morning air.

“’s early,” Nick mumbled back, already feeling sleep retake him. 

Charlie hummed against him.

When Nick next opened his eyes, sunlight was peaking through his window. His phone told him it was almost nine o’clock — Nellie would be dancing by now. Still, Nick didn’t move until his own stirrings got Charlie squirming a little. Nick scooted back as Charlie rotated in place onto his back, one arm pulled up against his head. Henry, the little potato, didn’t even open his eyes even as the movements jostled him.

“Morning,” Charlie said as he rubbed away the eye dust. 

“Happy Christmas Eve,” Nick replied with a grin. “Are you ready to lay around and watch movies all day?”

“I love your holiday traditions.”

“You okay with pancakes for breakfast?”

Charlie groaned happily. “This just keeps getting better and better.” 

Nick had to let the dogs out first, but Charlie decided to shower anyway, noting he was a little tacky after last night’s festivities. By the time Nick had sorted the canines and had breakfast on the griddle, Charlie was padding into the kitchen in loose sweatpants, a gorgeous cable-knit sweater, thick Nordic socks — and with a blanket wrapped around him, probably obtained from David’s room. He apparently hadn’t washed his hair since it was dry, but had done whatever he did to style it, as the bedhead was gone. 

“You look so cuddly like that,” said Nick, who was wearing basic athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

“Do I?” Charlie asked before sipping from the mug of hot tea Nick had prepared and handed to him as soon as he walked in.

“Yeah.”

Nick stared at Charlie longer than was probably appropriate for someone who definitely wasn’t fighting off feelings, until the sizzle reminded him there were pancakes in the skillet. He turned and dealt with breakfast, and by the time he plated it and turned around, Charlie was seated at the table.

They ate quietly. Taking advantage of Sarah’s absence, Nick appeased the dogs by tossing them bits of pancake. 

After breakfast, Nick and Charlie prepared for their Christmas Eve plan: finishing the Lord of the Rings trilogy they’d started more than a week ago after their sauna encounter. Not that they’d made it through the whole film that night. In fact, Nick had conked out well before they reached Rivendell. He ended up spending the night at Charlie’s, and they finished the second half in the morning. It was only sheer luck that Sai and Imogen had crashed at her place for once that he didn’t have an awkward encounter upon returning home. 

After a quick clean-up, Nick popped in the DVD — he had the extended editions, thank you very much — and they relaxed to The Two Towers, quipping about Gollum and trading theories about whether Legolas and Gimli ever kissed, just as a treat. Nick marvelled at how… easy it was to talk to Charlie, to joke and laugh. Other than Sai, he was certain Christian or Otis or anyone else who might possibly fall into the friend category would be staring at him like he has two heads after his joke about Treebeard. But Charlie was laughing his little arse off.

Between Two Towers and Return of the King, the two men took the dogs on a constitutional around the neighbourhood. Between Nellie’s arthritis, Henry’s stubby legs and the brisk chill, they were only out about 20 minutes, but it was enough to reinvigorate them to finish out the trilogy — after making some cocoa, spiked with Bailey’s, along with some sustaining snacks, of course.

Hours later, the credits rolled as they remarked about how well the films held up, both thematically and visually. Charlie suddenly sat up.

“Oh my god! It’s getting on — shouldn’t we be prepping dinner for your mum or anything?”

Nick shrugged. “Nah, she’s got it.”

“Nick,” Charlie chided, “she’s been on her feet at the hospital all day, we can’t make her cook on top of that!” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Nick asked. “Our Christmas Eve tradition is takeaway pizza. Er — I hope that’s okay?”

Charlie just laughed and nodded.

“I swear, on Christmas day we do a proper roast,” Nick protested. 

“It’s fine, you numpty,” Charlie said, hitting him with a pillow.

They spent the next half-hour chilling, Charlie reading a thick book, Nick scrolling Instagram and playing some games on his phone.

“Nicky, I’m home!” Sarah called out from the foyer. Nick and both dogs bounded to their feet, and Nick ran in to help her carry in dinner.

“Hey mum, how was your day?” he said, kissing her on the cheek and grabbing the boxes. 

“Oh, fine, dear, just fine.” Charlie was in the kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet. “Oh, Charlie, no, you’re our guest — let Nick do that,” Sarah called out.

“It’s literally the least I can do,” Charlie shot back with a smile. 

They settled and dug in — Nick remarked that Sarah had gone all out with two different pizzas and an order of garlic knots, so savoury and oily. He was gonna gain a few pounds this holiday, no doubt.

“So what did you boys do today, then?”

Nick munched down his bite of pepperoni pizza. “We watched some Christmas movies.” He saw Charlie give him a strange look. “ Lord of the Rings .”

Sarah scrunched up her face. “Darling, I don’t think Lord of the Rings is a Christmas movie.”

“Really?” Nick asked innocently. “So then why does it have elves?”

The three of them looked at each other, stone-faced for all of three seconds before Charlie snickered, unable to hold it back. Nick also started giggling, and then Sarah was guffawing, the three of them losing it at his pretty cringey joke.

“Charlie! I almost had her!” Nick protested when he got his breath back.

“Yes, you keep thinking that, Nicky,” Sarah replied.

She spent much of the rest of dinner regaling with tales of her patients, including the one with a badly fractured leg who kept trying to insist he was well enough to return home for the holiday, even though he couldn’t put even an ounce of weight on it. Patients never liked being in the hospital at Christmas, and it was hard not to agree.

After eating, all five of them went on a walking tour of the neighbourhood lights, now that it was dark. Charlie and Sarah agreed that understated decorations were really the way to go, but Nick said the handful of people who went all out, American-style, on their displays were the real winners. 

“Mm, we’d better get back, we have a couple more traditions to do,” Sarah said, tapping her watch, as they walked away from one house with a garish inflatable display of Santa piloting a helicopter. Nick had been pleased that not only did the main rotor spin, but so did the tail rotor. Nice attention to detail.

“What else do you do?” Charlie asked as they herded the dogs in the right direction.

“I hope you’re not full of films, because we always watch The Holiday before setting out cookies for Santa.” 

“Yeah, ‘Santa,’” Nick said, rolling his eyes.

“ The Holiday — that’s the swapping places one with Jude Law and Kate Winslet, isn’t it?” Charlie asked.

“That’s right,” said Sarah, “and also Jack Black and Katie Diaz.”

“ Cameron Diaz, mum.”

“Oh, thank you, Nicky,” she replied. “We watch this every year. I love the romance, and Nicky loves —” She stopped speaking suddenly. “He loves making me happy.”

Sarah hyped up Henry for the walk home and soon was off. Nellie had a more plodding pace, so Nick and Charlie were left behind. They walked for a moment until Sarah was out of earshot.

“She was going to say because you have a crush on both Kate Winslet and Jude Law, wasn’t she?” Charlie said teasingly. 

“Shut up,” Nick said, his voice lacking any heat.

“You want to be the meat in that fictional sibling sandwich, don’t you?”

“Shut up!” Nick shot back, more shock in his voice than actual malice as he pushed his shoulder against Charlie while they walked. “Like you haven’t wanted to get with Jude Law.”

“Mmm, well you got me there,” Charlie replied. “Especially when he wears those glasses…”

“I know,” Nick said with a giggle. 

He suddenly realised where he was, what he was doing. Who even was he right now? Walking the dog on Christmas Eve with the man he was… was — no, Nick didn’t want to think those words. It would hurt too much whenever Charlie was fed up and left. The sharp winter air felt like knives slicing down his throat as he breathed in. 

But Nick shoved all that down. He didn’t want to kill the mood. He wanted to be in the moment, with Charlie.

Being in the moment didn’t exactly work out. The rest of the night registered only as a blur in his mind: the movie, putting out cookies, heading upstairs. Nick was too distracted keeping himself away from the brink to really remember any of it.

What he would remember is Charlie slinking into his room just after midnight with an offer to deliver Nick’s first Christmas gift. He took Nick in his mouth, drawing out the pleasure until Nick was begging him for release. Nick returned the favour immediately after, and despite the fear that was increasingly gripping his heart, he fell into a contented sleep with Charlie in his arms.

 

***

 

The first thing Nick feels in the morning is the thump, thump, thump of Charlie’s heart. The warmth of his skin against Nick’s. The smell of almonds from his hair. 

Nick breathed in deeply, letting the aroma settle in his lungs and his bones. When he exhaled, it seemed to wake Charlie. He moved about a bit before apparently realising where he was, who he was with, and then Charlie leant back into Nick’s embrace. 

“Good morning,” Charlie said.

“Morning,” Nick replied, blinking blearily as the first rays of light pierced through his window. 

Charlie shuffled over properly and fell onto his back in front of Nick. 

“Morning,” he repeated.

They just stared at one another at point blank range, Nick taking in every beautiful detail of Charlie’s irises. Nick propped himself up on one arm and drank in the man before him, immediately intoxicated by the sharp lines and peach skin. The sheets only went as far down as Charlie’s nipples, but just the portions Nick could see were enough to last him a lifetime. 

Charlie shifted his eyes a bit and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?” he asked cautiously. “My hair? Or — my breath?”

Nick shook his head slowly, his eyes closed, then leaned forward and captured Charlie’s mouth in a kiss. Charlie eased into it as Nick’s hand closed around his jaw. He could feel under his palm as Charlie’s tongue contorted beneath his cheek, sliding back and forth against Nick’s own. 

A loud clang from the first floor made him reluctantly pull back, dropping his forehead to Charlie’s chest. The sun dappling through his curtains meant it was at least 8 o’clock, and Sarah was surely downstairs preparing her usual Christmas Day breakfast. Morning sex sounded nice, but…

“We should probably make an appearance,” Nick said, leaning back.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, nodding. The half-chub he was sporting when he stood up did make Nick — whose own cock was also still swollen — proud.

Charlie disappeared into his room… well, the room where his luggage was, Nick thought, realising they’d slept together every night here. After quickly taking care of his morning business, Nick threw on some athletic shorts and a hoodie and made his way downstairs.

“Good morning,” he greeted Sarah with a hug.

“Merry Christmas, my love!” she sang, squeezing him back. Some holiday music was playing, classic crooner stuff, as she worked the kitchen. Sausage was frying up nicely in a pan, some melon and other fruit was sitting on the table, but the part of breakfast Nick was most looking forward to were the waffles currently cooking in her Belgian waffle maker. His stomach growled as he made himself a cup of coffee and settled in at the bar to watch.

“Charlie up yet?” Sarah asked as she peeled a freshly made waffle out of the machine and tossed it onto a sheet in the oven to stay warm.

“I think I heard him moving about,” Nick replied, avoiding looking her in the eye.

His mother had always had an annoying habit of knowing when he was lying, or not telling the whole truth. It’s why she was the first person he ever told he was bisexual — that, and the fact that he trusted her completely, of course. He hadn’t told her about how he’d planned to keep it a secret from the rest of the world forever. 

He also hadn’t told her about his thing with Charlie, obviously — though he’d apparently mentioned him enough on their weekly calls that she immediately knew the name when Nick asked about bringing him home for the holiday. He wondered if that had raised any red flags. But she hadn’t betrayed any of her thoughts, if so.

Until now.

“You know, Nicky, I was a little surprised when you asked if Charlie could join us,” Sarah said. “I seem to recall a couple months of complaining about him, and then nothing at all for a long time. This man, who’s so sweet and polite and full of sunshine… is the same man you told me was an ‘arrogant pinhead,’ yes?”

Sigh. 

“Yeeees,” he replied, drawing it out.

“So then you’re getting on better?”

If it was Sai or Imogen, Nick would obfuscate. Misdirect with something or other. Not that it really worked on them, those two always saw right through him. But they knew it meant he didn’t want to talk about it and more or less backed off. Sarah afforded him no such luxury.

“Yes, you could say that.” Nick sipped his tea, avoiding his mother’s gaze.

For a few moments, nothing but the sizzling sausages could be heard in the kitchen.

“Well, I think he’s good for you,” Sarah finally said. “You haven’t been this… at peace in a long time.”

Nick only hummed, and Sarah was apparently satisfied. 

He was at peace? What did that mean? And what did not being at peace mean? And how long had he been that way? Nick so wanted to ask Sarah all those questions and more, but it was too early in the morning on a holiday for quite that much introspection. 

A few minutes later, Charlie appeared, dressed in skinny jeans and his big cable-knit sweater again. 

“Happy Christmas,” he called out.

“Happy Christmas, dear,” Sarah replied, hugging Charlie tightly, of course.

“Yes, happy Christmas,” Nick shot back, as if he hadn’t said that to Charlie a couple of times already since midnight. 

“What do you have there?” Sarah asked, pointing to a jar in Charlie’s hands.

“Oh, um, it’s applesauce,” Charlie said, placing it on the counter. “Nick mentioned you always make waffles on Christmas and… applesauce is my favourite waffle topping. Thought I’d bring some since most people don’t keep it in stock unless they have young children.”

Nick didn’t recall specifically mentioning waffles, but he must have. He was babbling a bit when he invited Charlie and must have over-shared about their traditions.

“Really?” Sarah asked. “How intriguing. Oh, and healthier than maple syrup — aka liquid sugar!”

“Erm… sounds pretty weird to me,” Nick said, sipping his coffee.

Charlie stuck out his tongue when Sarah wasn’t looking, making Nick smile, and soon enough they were tucking in at the table. Sarah raved about Charlie’s applesauce idea, and practically forced Nick to try it. He begrudgingly admitted it wasn’t as bad as he would have thought but said he’d stick to syrup. 

Once sated, they trooped into the lounge to exchange gifts. 

Charlie had brought Sarah a nice, safe bottle of wine. He apologised it was from the Tesco clearance section, but she gushed about it and said he was lovely to get her anything at all on such short notice.

Nick handed Charlie a wrapped package. He didn’t mention that he’d already purchased it before he knew Charlie wouldn’t be seeing his family. Not that he’d been planning to give it as a Christmas gift, per se, but he’d had the idea one day and had ordered the thing before he thought twice about it.

Charlie started with the card, which had a gift certificate to the ice cream shop near his office. Then he picked up the box.

“What the…” Charlie trailed off as he unwrapped the heavy object. It was a nameplate, a desk nameplate.

CHARLIE SPRING
PROFESSOR OF EMOTIVE MANAGEMENT

Charlie laughed upon reading it, and Nick couldn’t help but grin. 

“I figure I’ve put you through enough, you deserve the title,” Nick said.

He realised Sarah was staring at him. “Inside joke,” he explained with a shrug. She smiled and shrugged back.

Then Charlie handed Nick a flat gift: a package of felt tip markers — Charlie Spring was a listener — and a couple of colouring books: one rugby-themed, and the other some sort of adult colouring book featuring lusciously drawn curse words.

“I think I’m starting to see where the ‘emotive management’ comes in,” Sarah said, her eyes gleaming. Nick blushed and stuffed the curse word book under the rugby one, trying to look unbothered. 

“There’s one more thing,” Charlie said, handing him an envelope. 

It was marked as from both Charlie and Sarah. Nick looked between them, perplexed, but their feigned ignorance until he opened it. Inside was a blank hospital guest badge.

“I thought, since you’re so good with kids, that maybe you’d be up for visiting the paediatric ward tomorrow?” Charlie said hesitantly. “Your mum kindly helped me plan out some details, if you’re up for it.”

“Another photo opp?” Nick asked.

“No, no reporters,” Charlie replied. “Just you and the kids.”

Nick nodded. “That… sounds nice.” Sarah leaned over and hugged him again. 

The three of them broke up for a bit after that, Sarah wanting to get a jump start on the kitchen but insisting the boys relax. Nick wrote a mental note to hire a cleaning service for her as soon as he had the money. Charlie popped upstairs, saying he’d made plans to call his family in the States, leaving Nick in the lounge, thumbing the hospital pass, deep in thought. 

Later that afternoon, Nick went up to take a nap and found Nellie laying in the hallway. The old girl sometimes escaped up here when Henry was downstairs being extra. Nick lowered himself to lie beside her on the floor, petting her fluffy hair. 

At first, he just repeated his usual babbling about how pretty and sweet Nellie was. But something was gnawing at him inside, and he recalled having shared secrets with Nellie back in school. She was a very good listener.

“Nellie, you like Charlie, don’t you? He’s a nice boy? Gives you pets?” 

She simply looked back at him with soft eyes. 

“Yeah, I like Charlie, too. A lot. But I don’t know… I don’t think he feels the same way. I feel like if I tell him, he’ll run away, like everyone else does. But I also can’t… I don’t know if I can keep pretending. It’s — I’ve never felt like this before, Nell. I don’t know what to do.”

Nick buried his face in Nellie’s side and let a couple of tears fall and be absorbed into her warm fur. Nellie was the perfect confidant. But she couldn’t give him any advice. Nick thought about the only other person who could turn to for help. His mother. Maybe it was time to take that step. 

Suddenly, the door to David’s room opened. Nick quickly wiped away the tears before looking back at Charlie standing there.

“Do you talk to Nellie often?” Charlie asked, leaning against the frame.

“Did you hear all that?” Nick asked, trying to keep a steady tone as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t hear what you were saying. Dog -tor-patient confidentiality remains unbroken,” Charlie said with that look people gave after making a terrible pun.

Nick groaned.

“Mario Kart?”

“Sounds nice.”

After dinner — and it was, as Nick had promised, a proper roast, including Yorkshire puddings, braised cabbage and roasted Brussels sprouts, followed by a perfectly formed sticky toffee pudding — Nick had insisted that Sarah kick back while he washed up. He finished just in time to catch the Doctor Who special, immediately after which Sarah stretched, yawned, and retired for the evening.

They were silent for a while, letting the BBC’s Christmas programming fill the void. 

Until Charlie spoke up.

“Hey, Nick.”

Nick glanced over and hummed.

“Can you mute that?”

Nick just turned the telly off. It wasn’t very interesting anyway.

“Nick… we need to talk. About us.”

The Christmas meal being digested in Nick’s stomach was immediately twisted up as he felt the familiar fear grip him. This was it. Too much. Charlie actually had heard him earlier talking to Nellie. Or maybe he’d finally just come to his senses and realised Nick wasn’t worth it, was no good.

It sucked that this was going to happen on Christmas. Real holiday downer. 

Nick wished more than anything he hadn’t turned off the television. Would have been nice to focus on some pixels instead of wringing his hands and fighting back a lump in his throat.

“I know… we didn’t exactly get on when we met,” Charlie said carefully. Of course he’d be gentle about it, the arse. “And then we were pushed together and fell into this… I don’t know. Situation.”

Just get it over with already, Nick thought. He fought until his eyes were looking at Charlie’s lap, where his own hands were clasped together and clearly squeezing hard. Working up the courage to end their… situation.

“I’m tired of pretending, Nick. Pretending that this isn’t something more. It is, isn’t it? More?”

Wait. What?

“More?” Nick asked dumbly.

Charlie sighed loudly. “You can be so fucking obtuse sometimes. I like you, Nick. I genuinely have feelings for you. And I can feel you do, too. Don’t you?”

Nick was completely overwhelmed.

“I —” He couldn’t even come up with a response.

Charlie shuffled over until he was sitting next to Nick directly, sitting on his knees facing him, their bodies just inches apart.

“I like you, and I want to be with you. And the looks you give me sometimes… I’m pretty sure you do, too. Can we just… can we drop the pretenses and just fucking be together?”

Nick took in a sharp breath, his lungs struggling to expand against the weight of his apprehension.

“You… want that?” he asked, his voice quavering. Nick finally found the strength to look in Charlie’s eyes and found them wide, watery, and pleading. 

“I want that. I want you — us,” Charlie said, reaching forward and grabbing Nick’s hands in his own. “Do you?”

Did Nick? Of course Nick fucking did. He’d wanted “them” for longer than he cared to admit. He was just better with Charlie around — he felt better, and was better. He thought back to what Sarah had said that morning about being more at peace.

All this from that high-and-mighty barista all those months ago? From viral shame to this, them pressed against one another on his mum’s couch on Christmas night, electricity dancing between them? 

“Yes,” Nick finally replied. “Yes, I want that, Char.”

In a flash, Charlie had scrambled onto Nick’s lap, kissing him madly. They snogged for what seemed like hours, and Nick was saved from overthinking literally everything about that evening by the fact that all the blood was relocating from his brain to his cock.

Wordlessly, Charlie stood, pulling Nick up by one hand and up the stairs to Nick’s bedroom. They stripped and prepped without a word, sharing only bashful glances and coy giggles. Then Charlie was on his back and Nick was pushing inside of him, the room filled with the sounds of flesh pressing together and lungs valiantly struggling to keep pace with their passion. 

Nick ended Christmas Day much as he’d begun it: making love to Charlie Spring. 

It was so much the same. And entirely different.

Notes:

Nick’s Treebeard joke:

"Treebeard," Pippin said. "Do you like being covered in moss?"

"I didn't at first," Treebeard replied. "But, it grew on me."

Chapter 16

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: It’s Christmas with the Nelsons! Charlie tagged along to meet Sarah, Nellie and Henry (the pug). And he had a question for Nick.

This time: 🎵 A spoonful of smut makes the medicine go down... 🎵

Notes:

Thank you to KitSaidOui for his beta efforts, for catching my silly typos, and for flailing in the comments and giving me a wonderful confidence boost.

Reminder that the "🥙" emojis below signal the sections depicting armpit kink. Reader discretion is advised.

The Boxing Day visit to the children’s ward had gone perfectly. Nick spent hours chatting up and playing with the kids confined to the hospital, took selfies upon request, signed a few autographs, and distributed little gifts all over. Half a dozen ambulatory adult patients also showed up after rumour spread a rugby star was in the building. 

Nick had been joking with one little girl about what position Bluey would play if he were on a rugby team — Nick was only vaguely aware of Bluey, but all he had to do was egg the girl on and she did all the talking — when he happened to glance up and catch Charlie’s eye. His grin spread from ear to ear, eyes crinkled by the truly genuine nature of the moment he was witnessing. Charlie was beaming, and he was beaming at Nick.

He remembered their talk the prior night. They had so much more to say. He couldn’t wait to get home to say it.

But that wasn’t proving easy. Sarah was off for the three days following Christmas. It was great, because it meant Nick could spend lots of time with her. It was terrible because it meant she was always around, and he couldn’t have the conversations he needed to have with Charlie when she could walk in at any moment.

There was the nighttime, sure, but they had other things to do then. Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever come this regularly in his life, not even by his own hand. And as satisfying as it was, it meant they were always too exhausted, too fucked out, to have a meaningful conversation.

Nick had been scheduled to stick around until New Years Day, but he needed to figure things out with Charlie away from his childhood home, his childhood bed… his mother.

So he lied a little.

“Mum, got an email this morning,” he said at breakfast on the 28th. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve been called back. We’ve got extra training starting tomorrow.”

“What? Oh, no,” Sarah moaned. “Oh, what rotten luck.”

“Well, the good news is you’re going back to work tomorrow anyway, so you won’t be missing days with me.”

“But I will miss the evenings. Oh, well, I’ll just have to make the most of our last day together.”

“You bet,” Nick said. “Anything you want.”

He was a horrible son. Just awful.  

But it had to be done, just this once. 

He made good on his promise, and it turned out that was taking care of some minor handiwork around the house that she’d been saving for him. Charlie volunteered to help him install the new faucet in the downstairs loo, which of course led to both of them getting right soaked and laughing their arses off. Nick treated Sarah to lunch at her favourite cafe. They got in some shopping downtown. And then he and Sarah alone took the dogs on a nice long walk.

It was relatively warm, so when they reached a nice viewpoint in the park, they sat on a bench for a bit to let Nellie flop down and catch her breath.

“Did you have a good holiday, Nicky?” Sarah asked, gazing at the setting sun. 

“Yeah, I did, mum. You?”

“One for the books, I’d say,” she replied. “What was your favourite gift?”

Nick scrunched up his face and ran through his inventory.

“Erm, this Carhartt jacket you found at the consignment,” he said, holding up one sleeve to admire it. “Exactly my style.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.”

“What about you?”

Nick hoped she would say one of his gifts — the plush robe or membership to the local botanical gardens.

He didn’t expect —

“My favourite gift was seeing you happy with Charlie.”

Nick’s breath hitched, the chill air rasping against his airway. His heart skipped a few beats and his hands shook.

“I — what do you mean?”

Sarah placed one gloved palm on top of Nick’s own quivering hand.

“Darling, let’s not pretend anymore, shall we? I know you two are together and I think it’s just wonderful.”

“You… noticed something?”

Sarah nodded. “A glance here. A smile there. Just stuff that only a mother would notice.” She grinned and tilted her head. “Well, and the fact that every morning before I went downstairs I opened your door to see your angelic face and every morning you were wrapped around that boy like a lemur.”

“ WOT? ” Nick shouted as he stood, startling some joggers a few dozen yards away. Henry also got excited, jumping up and looking around for the source of the commotion.

“Oh, my love,” Sarah said. “Every morning since you were a baby, every time I had to be out of the house before you would be awake, I looked in on you. Just to check that you were okay, or else I’d go stir crazy worrying. I know, it’s… just a mum thing. Well. Imagine my surprise the morning after you arrived when I cracked opened your door and found a mop of dark curly hair poking out of your sheets.”

“Oh my god,” Nick muttered, walking in small circles. “Oh my god!” 

“Calm down, Nicky, I didn’t see anything,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “Well, except that one condom wrapper that didn’t quite make the bin —”

“Oh my god !” Nick made a mental note to gather up all his trash into his suitcase before leaving. He probably was going to have to do that anyway but now that his mum knew…

Sarah sighed and stood up, grabbing Nick and squeezing him tight. He remained tense in her embrace.

“Oh darling, there’s so many things to celebrate here,” she said. “You’re with a wonderful person. You’re practising safe sex. And now I don’t have to change the sheets on David’s bed!”

“Oh, mum…”

Sarah only squeezed him harder.

The sun had just set, so they turned and headed back. They would have time for a light supper before Nick and Charlie had to catch their train.

“So, how long have you been together, then?” Sarah asked as they walked.

Nick sighed. That was a complicated question.

“Depending on how you look at it… a few days, or a few weeks. Or maybe a few months.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

Nick wrestled with his answer for a minute.

“Scared. But… happy.” 

“Have you ever felt that way before?”

Nick shook his head. That he knew for sure — it had never been like this with anyone else.

When Sarah didn’t respond, Nick looked over and saw an amused look plastered across her face. They walked the rest of the way home in silence. At the door, before going back in, Sarah turned to Nick.

“I love you, Nicky, and I’m so proud of you.”

A lump formed in his throat as Nick tried not to tear up. He knew what Sarah said, but hearing it stated so firmly and forcefully broke through the usual noise in his head decrying him as unworthy and unlovable. Not that it was unusual for a mother to love her son. But Nick really felt it, deep down, and it was nearly overwhelming to contemplate.

 

***

 

The train ride home seemed so much longer than three hours. Holiday travellers meant the car was quite full, too crowded for the kind of conversation Nick wanted to have. Instead, they settled for playing footsie under the table and pretending to read the entire way back.

It was late by the time they pushed through Nick’s front door. The two men abandoned their bags right there in the entry hallway as Charlie practically pulled Nick through and into his bedroom. They had the place to themselves until the new year — Sai had posted a picture out to dinner with his family in London on Instagram during their train ride back, confirming they weren’t going to get walked in on accidentally. And both were determined to make the best use of that time.

Tomorrow, that would mean finding the courage to talk.

Tonight, that meant finding the strength not to cum too quickly.

Charlie aggressively pushed Nick up against the wall, pawing at his clothes haphazardly as Nick giggled and tried to remove them without breaking their kiss. Nick managed to get his shirt off before Charlie placed his palms on Nick’s chest and pushed him back against the wall, angling one thigh between his legs and attacking his mouth. Charlie curled his fingers and gently clawed his way down Nick’s pectorals, and he would have gasped if his mouth had been free. Something had gotten into Charlie; he was frenetic, plastering himself against Nick with roving hands as his mouth travelled south.

“Charlie… oh, Charlie,” Nick moaned as he licked and nipped his skin.

Nick put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and pushed him back slightly. Both men were breathing heavily.

“Charlie… what do you want?”

He looked at Nick. questioningly. “What do I…”

“Tonight,” Nick clarified. “What do you want tonight?”

Charlie’s face shifted to recognition, then thoughtfulness as he apparently considered the possibilities. A smirk passed over Charlie’s face.

“I wanna eat you out,” he said in a low voice, and fuck if that didn’t make Nick quiver a little, in his knees and… down there.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’ve never… no one’s ever —”

“I figured,” Charlie interrupted. “Do you want that, though? It’s okay if you don’t.”

A deep breath. “Yeah. Yes. I want that.”

“Will you take a shower for me, then?” Charlie asked. “Get nice and clean?”

Nick just nodded. Charlie stepped back and Nick undid his jeans and pushed them down, freeing his aching cock. He strode into the bathroom and stood waiting for the water to warm up, his head completely devoid of all thoughts except of Charlie’s tongue on his hole. He wondered how it felt… if it was strange, or sexy, or both at once. 

Nick startled when he felt a hand caress his cheek — Charlie. 

He shifted past Nick, closed the lid on the toilet and sat on it. “Mind if I watch?”

There was that shiver again, this time tingling down his upper arms and spine.

“Okay,” Nick said. And if he was arching his back a little, who was to know?

He stepped under the spray and slid the glass door shut behind him. Glancing back, he saw Charlie lean against the toilet tank and take in his fill as water cascaded down Nick’s muscles.

Nick grabbed his shower puff, soaked it and applied a dollop of his sandalwood-scented shower gel. He began rubbing it on his chest, stomach and arms. He technically didn’t need an all-over wash for what Charlie was about to do to him, but he figured the man deserved a show. Nick's favourite moment was when he bent over to do his legs and heard Charlie outright moan, even over the noisy shower. When he righted himself, Nick glanced over and was pleasantly surprised to find Charlie sitting with his hand stuffed down his pants, gently grinding as he gawped at Nick in the shower. 

Finally, Nick applied some shower gel to his fingers and reached behind himself. He made thorough work of his arse, more thorough than was surely necessary, but again — putting on a show. He stuck one finger partway inside, even, wiggling it around. It was a nice sensation, if odd, but he was intrigued how it would compare to Charlie’s mouth.

“That’s enough,” Charlie commanded. “Dry off, please.”

Nick turned off the water and grabbed his towel, absorbing the droplets that dotted his body like his freckles. Charlie pulled his hand out of his pants and went back into Nick’s bedroom. He stepped out onto a mat and finished getting his legs, then followed Charlie, leaving the towel behind. 

“Face down on the bed, please,” Charlie directed calmly but firmly. 

Nick complied, and then felt Charlie clamber up behind him. He draped himself over Nick, kissing the nape of his neck before kissing his way down Nick’s back until he reached his target. Charlie placed one hand on each cheek and pulled it apart, revealing Nick’s entrance. Nick held his breath. He had never seen his own arsehole, and he worried suddenly if it would be ugly. Charlie’s was so pretty… pink and pert, tight but responsive, just a couple of hairs that framed it perfectly. Nick wasn’t sure he could measure up. 

The gasp behind him indicated perhaps he did.

“Oh Nick,” Charlie moaned. Nick could feel his hot breath bellow out onto his quivering rim. “You have such a pretty hole.”

“D-do I?” Nick asked, trembling.

“You do,” Charlie replied. “Let me show you.”

Suddenly, the cool air was replaced by moist heat and pressure. Charlie Spring was licking his arsehole, dragging his tongue slowly across the puckered rim as if each taste bud was having a go. Then, amazingly, Charlie did it again, and again. The half-chub Nick had sported since it had flagged in the shower a bit came roaring back to life, feeling like a steel bar pressed awkwardly against the mattress. 

Nick couldn’t help but writhe around, squeezing the duvet with his hands, his cheek burning against the fabric as Charlie ate him out expertly. Sparks slowly zapped their way up his spine and down his arms and legs and Charlie’s tongue probed his entrance. Then Charlie went further, pushing inside Nick a little, and holy fuck, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping and shaking. This was a thousand times better than how he’d felt doing some light fingering in the shower. 

After a while — Nick really couldn’t track the passage of time with any accuracy any more — Charlie kissed his way up Nick’s spine until he was nipping at the back of one of his ears. 

“So?” 

Nick rubbed his face against the pillow.

“Holy shit,” he finally muttered.

“Five star service, guaranteed,” Charlie said, sounding proud.

“Jesus, that was more like 17 stars, Char,” Nick replied, his voice wrecked.

Charlie hummed. “So good for me,” he said lowly. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

Nick shivered. He didn’t know that was in the cards for tonight. He’d thought about it, of course. How could he not when he had regular access to the biggest cock he’d ever seen in real life? But of course, that also meant he thought about having that thing lodged inside him. He’d never been penetrated before. And their regular top-bottom roles seemed to work for them most of the time; Charlie hadn’t ever brought it up before today.

He must have tensed, because Charlie was cooing and running his hands down Nick’s arms.

“Don’t worry, baby, not tonight. But someday… if you’re willing.”

Oh Jesus.

“So… then what do you want tonight?” Nick asked.

Charlie sucked in a breath and blew out along Nick’s ear. He felt goosebumps raise on his forearms in response.

“I want to ride you, Nick.”

Nick just nodded dumbly, his face still sideways against the pillows.

“Okay.”

Suddenly Charlie was pulling away, his warmth lingering on Nick’s skin like a whisper. 

“Just going to brush my teeth and get the supplies.”

He heard Charlie step out into the hall and unzip his luggage to retrieve his toothbrush before he came back around and entered Nick’s bathroom. Nick thought about how bloody good he felt right now, his arse soaked and his muscles relaxed. He flipped over slowly onto his back, his weeping cock standing straight up into the air, and then Charlie was emerging from the bathroom. He wasted no time pulling his shirt over his head by the hem before undoing his skinny jeans and peeling them off his beautiful legs. Then a final shove of his boxer-briefs, and he was finally nude. Nick drank in the sight like nectar, never tiring of it even after seeing it night after night all week.

Charlie tossed some lube and condoms onto the bed beside Nick and climbed up to straddle him. He leaned down and planted his minty-fresh mouth on Nick’s, snogging him as their engorged cocks rubbed against one another deliciously. Charlie pulled back and carefully manoeuvred himself around until his rear end was facing Nick.

He hardly needed instructions. Nick grabbed the bottle of lube and got to work preparing Charlie. It was a little unusual to get such an up close and personal view of it, and the angle was a little odd, but Nick found himself spellbound watching Charlie absorb his fingers, moaning as Nick found just the right spot and made sure to hit it over and over. The sound of their fucking, the moans and squelches, echoed in the quiet night. 

Charlie leaned back and twisted to look at Nick.

“I’m ready,” he said. “Hand me a condom.”

Nick did, and listened as Charlie turned back around, tore open the packet and then used his dainty fingers to roll the rubber down Nick’s cock. Charlie raised himself up, and Nick took the opportunity to reshuffle himself a little. He thought Charlie would turn back around, but was surprised when he simply scooted forward on his knees until his arse was poised directly over Nick’s cock.

“Are you —”

“Always wanted to try reverse cowboy,” Charlie said. 

Nick suddenly realised that meant he’d have a perfect view of Charlie’s back, his inviting rear end, the arch in his spine, the expanse of velvety, olive skin that showed the bumps from his ribs. 

Charlie reached behind him and positioned Nick’s cock, then sank down slowly, sliding and sliding until he finally was flush against Nick. Charlie felt tight against him, with pressure in different places because of the new position. Nick couldn’t stop himself emitting little gasps and grunts as the waves of pleasure washed over him. As Charlie let himself acclimate, Nick was entranced as Charlie breathed in and out, his ribcage expanding and contracting. Charlie’s skin also flushed, patches ranging from light pink to moderate maroon up and down his back. 

Then he lifted himself up until he was some two-thirds of the way off Nick and dropped back down again, testing the waters. Charlie cried out, cutting himself off — possibly because that cry had been so wanton, Nick thought. But he didn’t have time to mull it. Charlie pistoned his hips again and again, fucking down on Nick with abandon. 

Once again, there was little Nick could do but hang on for dear life as Charlie just… happened to him. Nick gripped the sheets as he propped himself up. It was physically taxing, but he was determined not to miss a moment of Charlie’s performance, so tantalising it was to watch him use Nick for his pleasure.

Sooner than he liked, Nick felt the stirrings of an orgasm bubbling beneath the surface. The angle Charlie was at had his dick pointed further down than usual, and it was doing things for Nick. Through sheer willpower, and by thinking about Harry Greene's sneering visage, Nick was able to last a few more minutes, but soon his time was up.

“I’m about to… Charlie, oh my god…”

Charlie slowed as he listened to Nick, but he realised what Nick was saying and began bouncing on his cock faster. Nick was enraptured watching Charlie’s hole engulf his entire length, over and over, his muscles undulating with effort, his back dewed with sweat. Each time he bottomed out, the smack of skin on skin echoed in Nick’s ears, followed shortly by the sensation of Charlie’s own twig and berries slapping down onto Nick’s balls. 

A bellow left Nick’s body as he came, unloading fully into the condom inside Charlie. The two brain cells not overwhelmed by pleasure wondered if maybe they could stop using a condom… Nick had always used a condom before, but if they were each clean, and without the risk of pregnancy… 

That was something for Nick to think about in the morning. Instead, he arched his back off the bed as he came, low groans echoing in the room as Charlie rode him to completion. Nick involuntarily bucked his hips a few times, interrupting Charlie’s rhythm, before he collapsed back onto the mattress, his limbs already starting to feel like limp noodles. Nick had just enough willpower to angle his head and watch Charlie huff and puff from the effort. 

Nick honestly couldn’t tell whether Charlie had cum, but when he pulled off Nick and flopped down onto his back next to him in bed, it was clear he was still rock hard.

Nick reached down and pulled the half-full condom off his cock, tying it up and tossing it to the floor before he rolled onto his side and sidled up against Charlie, running one palm lazily over his chest and stomach before wrapping his fingers around Charlie’s long, weeping cock. Nick leaned over and snogged Charlie while he jacked him off for a few minutes. Then Nick leaned back and propped his head up with his free hand.

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

Charlie met Nick’s gaze and smiled. His eyes darted down to Nick’s armpit, now revealed since his arm was bent propping up his head. He was a little sweaty from being ridden, and remembered how Charlie had reacted in the sauna. It hadn’t come up again, which Nick thought was actually kind of a shame. Charlie’s armpit stuff had been a totally new experience to him, and although it had been odd at first, he’d definitely been into Charlie getting off on it.

“Want a sniff?” Nick asked nonchalantly. When Charlie looked at him, his skin flushed from the handjob, Nick gestured with his head toward his pit. “It’s okay if you don’t, I just thought… it seemed like something you liked —”

“Yes — yes,” Charlie interrupted, and before Nick could react, he darted his head over until it was buried in Nick’s armpit. It tickled, making Nick’s wrist stumble a little as he flicked the head of Charlie’s cock. 

Nick shuddered when he felt Charlie’s hot tongue suddenly pressed against his armpit, licking the hairs there once again. He was better able to feel the sensations this time, perhaps something to do with no longer being in the overwhelmingly hot and humid environment of the sauna.

But what Nick really liked was how Charlie began whimpering as he sniffed and licked at Nick’s pits. His lithe body trembled, his abdominal muscles clearly clenching, and he began thrusting more into Nick’s hand, fucking his fist. 

It only took a minute before Nick heard — and felt — Charlie release a long, low groan as he splattered himself with cum. Nick pumped him through it until the last drops were oozing down his cock like wax on a taper candle. Charlie rolled back over, gasping in air, and Nick was pleased to see he’d not only cum a great deal, but that it had shot as far up as his neck. 

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

Nick released Charlie’s dick, letting it flop down to the side of his hip. Then he brought his hand to his mouth and licked off the white essence that webbed his fingers.

“Jesus, Nick…” Charlie moaned.

His hand clean, Nick pulled himself up and settled his head on Charlie’s stomach, where he began lapping up his spend like the icing on a cupcake. Nick was rather surprised by how much he was beginning to crave the taste of Charlie. Maybe it was sort of like how Charlie craved his smell, Nick thought as Charlie’s skin pulled against his tongue. Cleaning as he went, Nick worked his way north until he was nipping against Charlie’s shocking sharp jawline, his teeth catching ever so slightly on the short five o’clock shadow there. Nick wondered what Charlie would look like with scruff and felt his dick twitch; it would be a good look.

Having cleaned Charlie like a Roomba, Nick finally eased into a lengthy snog session, plastering his body against Charlie’s, holding himself up just enough to avoid crushing the smaller man. After a while, Nick pivoted onto his side, one arm and leg slotted on top of Charlie. 

Charlie turned his hooded eyes to look at Nick. They lay there, just taking one another in. He'd never properly noticed Charlie's eyes before. Usually when he was staring into them, Nick was red with rage, so examining the texture of his irises was impossible. But here now, in bed, Nick let himself stare at the stunning discs of grey and teal. Also unusually, Charlie wasn't glaring at Nick or otherwise giving him evils. His eyes were soft. 

Charlie had always been so… sharp. Verbally, physically, emotionally. 

The softness took Nick by surprise.

Then Charlie’s eyes were scrunched up as he yawned right in Nick’s face.

“Oh, I see,” Nick said playfully. “Sex was that good, huh?”

Charlie snapped his jaw closed. “Actually, yeah, you fucking wiped me out.”

Nick couldn’t stave off his sympathy yawn any longer. As he let go, Charlie reached over and pulled Nick tighter against him. Nick called out for his Alexa to turn off the bedside light — fantastic investment — and snuggled up against Charlie’s warmth.

 

***

 

A dam had broken regarding physical touch, and suddenly Nick and Charlie were in close proximity all the time, lingering by each other in the kitchen, budged up against each other on the couch, always watching the other. It’s not like they didn’t have physical intimacy before, but that was pretty much limited to pre- and post-coital times. 

Now, as Nick fried up a couple of eggs for breakfast, Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick’s waist and nuzzled the back of his neck. The two of them bumped hips and giggled as they washed the dishes. Nick draped his legs over Charlie’s lap as they lounged on the sofa. 

It felt fucking electric. Nick was getting goosebumps every time they touched. He had to work extra hard to control his breathing lest it hitch and alert Charlie that this meant too much to Nick. It didn’t rightly make any sense — they’d touched lots of times, in all kinds of situations. It hadn’t made Nick feel this way before. 

Never had Nick experienced this kind of simple intimacy before. Intimacy outside of sex. Of course, even if you only started counting their time together as that day in the conference room when they shoved their hands down each other's pants — Nick smiled looking back at the awkwardness — this thing with Charlie was already his longest relationship ever. He chose not to overanalyze that for the moment.

They were living in this liminal bubble, just the two of them, at least for the next few days. It felt nice, calm and safe in a way Nick rarely experienced. But he also was afraid to bring up the things they needed to talk about lest he pierce the bubble. He spent all morning trying to work up the courage as they watched telly.

It turned out the bubble would be pierced from the outside.

Charlie’s phone dinged, and Nick noticed his face immediately soured upon looking at the message.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Charlie nodded. “Just work.”

Nick watched him tap out a response and then toss his phone onto the side table. 

“You mean Ben.”

Charlie grunted, staring at the television.

Nick was never going to get a better opportunity. For once, he tread lightly.

“Charlie.” His voice was gentle. “I don’t mean to pry, but… will you tell me more about Ben? You told me once that you used to date but… I don’t really understand what happened, or why you’re working for him when he treats you so poorly.”

A sigh escaped Charlie’s chest as he stared at the television, avoiding eye contact with Nick.

“If… If I’m out of line, I’m sorry, um, just ignore me, actually —”

“It’s okay,” Charlie replied. “I just… not a lot of people really know the details. Just Tao, actually.”

Charlie muted the David Attenborough documentary they had been watching, although Nick was distracted and had barely absorbed any of the nature scenes. He repositioned himself so he was angled partway toward Nick, but still looking away, and settled with a sigh.

“I was outed in Year 9,” Charlie began. “I still don’t know how. I’d told a few friends, but somehow word got out. And it spread like wildfire. You’d think in this day and age… things would be different. But there was a lot of bullying. At the time, I was the only gay boy at school, so it made me a big target. I guess, in some ways, I was lucky. I was never beaten. I got jostled around sometimes, bumped into lockers, that sort of thing. But never outright attacked.”

Nick felt his chest fill with rage and shame. He could only imagine what being openly queer would have been like at that age. It was certainly part of the reason he’d never told anyone he was bisexual — it was just too dangerous, even more so in the macho athletic world he lived in.

Charlie huffed.

“The one bright spot in that time was Ben. He was a year older than me. One day in Year 10, I was practising drums after school and suddenly there he was, telling me I was brave for coming out — not that it was my choice… The next thing I knew, he was kissing me. My first kiss. Things progressed from there, but in secret. He wasn’t out, and was extremely scared of anyone thinking that about him, so our… 'relationship' was always clandestine. The most I could ever hope for at school was a stolen kiss in the library.

“Then it was summer, and he actually changed. Ben finally opened up a little. His parents were apparently huge homophobes, so I could only go round his house when they were away. Which, they were rich as fuck, so it seemed like they were always off for a weekend in Ibiza or Morocco or the Amalfi Coast. We spent the summer swimming in his pool and lounging in their home movie theatre and… you know. Doing what boys do.

“It was amazing. He got so much more comfortable with physical touch. I even got him to call us boyfriends a few times. When the next school year began, I thought maybe he would come out and we could be together. Or at least, that we could be seen talking to one another. Christ, I was so naive. On that first day back, I passed him in the hallway and just said hello. He straight up pretended not to know who I was.”

Nick was flummoxed. How was Charlie to this day still affiliated with Ben? He had so many questions — but he also knew Charlie would probably answer most of them if he kept talking. And he had never opened up like this to Nick before. So he kept his mouth shut.

“The bullying had died down a bit, but the worst part was so much of it was carried out by people he was friends with. Ben wasn’t sporty, but he was smart enough to hang out with the jocks, get some proxy popularity from them, and they liked his money, so I guess it was a win-win situation for them. But it meant he spent all his time with the most virulent homophobes.

“What I didn’t realise at the time was that he was controlling and abusive. It was my first relationship, and I was so flattered that a handsome guy was into me… I probably would have gone along with anything. But he was really just using me. Deciding when and where we would meet. He took forever to respond to my messages, but got angry when I didn’t immediately respond to his. Getting off when he wanted to. Not caring if I came when we had sex.”

Woof. What an arsehole. Nick may have been a jerk but he always made sure his partners had a great time. It was simple courtesy.

“How long were you together?” Nick asked, breaking his silence for the first time.

Charlie smiled wanly. 

“That’s an interesting question. In retrospect, I don’t think Ben ever thought we were together. I certainly did, though.

“One day when I was in Year 12, I was meeting up with some friends at the cinema and I happened to see him at Nando’s. With a girl. Kissing. God, I was so mad. It took everything I had not to walk up to him then and there and break up with him as loudly as I could. But… even though he was horrible, I couldn’t out him. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on my worst enemy. Usually that’s just a hypothetical statement, but I literally had that choice.

“I’m only telling you all this, by the way, because nowadays Ben is openly bisexual. Perversely, I think he’s just using it to help his career, since he talks a lot about how being queer is ‘trendy’ now. Says it lets clients virtue-signal by hiring an openly queer PR firm.”

Nick scoffed. Obviously queer people can use that to their benefit in business, but for that to be the actual reason to come out, after not standing up for queer people in other ways, after abusing queer people personally and professionally… it left Nick feeling skeeved.

“Anyway,” Charlie continued. “I ended things that night by text. He cornered me in an empty room the next day. Said I was afraid of getting caught. Can you believe that? Everyone already knew I was gay. Then I called him on having a fucking girlfriend. Supposedly his parents had been harassing him about being single. Said their relatives were starting to ask if he was fruity or something. Lo and behold, suddenly he has a girlfriend.

“He pretty well cleared out of my life after that, at least for a while. Until after he’d finished his A-levels. He texted, said he wanted to apologise, set things right before leaving for uni. I was stupid and lonely and so I went over. He said he’d broken up with that girl, and a quick text to a friend at the girls’ school at least confirmed that. I didn’t believe any of the stuff he said about himself or us. What I did believe was how he implied we should get back together because no one else would ever want me. So… yeah, I started seeing him again. I didn’t delude myself into thinking it was anything more than physical, but, well. I was a 17-year-old gay guy, I had needs.

“He actually got a little better at sex, or at least made sure I came, which was a step up. But it was pretty strictly just sex. I learned that the first time I fell asleep at his place that summer. He was warm and cuddly that night. The next morning, it was like waking up next to an ice cube. ‘Oh, are you still here?’ he asked before just walking out of the room. When I dressed, he was downstairs watching TV and eating cereal. ‘See ya,’ he said. ‘See ya.’ Like he hadn’t just cum inside me a few hours earlier.”

Nick’s mind raced. Fuck, he’d done that to Charlie, hadn’t he? Maybe not exactly that, but he’d run away a few times at the beginning.

“But Ben also didn’t want me to leave at night, after we’d fucked. He said he liked having my warm body lying beside him. I knew it was a form of control, but honestly, I didn’t want to give up the sex. So I would always just set an early alarm so I’d be gone before he woke up. It actually worked pretty well. I’d also get home early enough that my mum didn’t know I’d slept somewhere else. 

“A few months later, he went off to uni. He never contacted me while he was away. Basically just booty calls at Christmas and the summers. And honestly, it was just easier that way. I tried dating once I went away to school, but I guess I never learned the proper rules of dating because I couldn’t hold on to a boyfriend for more than a month.”

Charlie paused.

“That’s not entirely true,” he eventually said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to date. It was just that I never let anyone in. If I did, they’d see I was damaged goods and that would end it. Ironically, by keeping guys shut out, they always left me.”

Nick felt cool dampness on his cheek — a tear. He was crying. Nick wasn’t a crier. It had been… he couldn’t remember the last time he’d teared up outside of the depths of angry frustration. 

It’s just that Charlie’s words rang in his head like a shotgun. Charlie obviously had very different experiences than Nick, but that last part was damned close to what Nick knew to be true about himself, about pushing away people so they wouldn’t see the fucked up gremlin at his core. 

What he most hated was that someone had made Charlie feel this way. Admittedly, Nick had come in hot thinking Charlie was an arsehole at first. And, if he was being truly honest with himself, he’d given Charlie plenty of reasons to be an arsehole back to him. It had become clear to Nick that Charlie wasn’t like that with everyone. Unlike Nick, who really was an arsehole to everyone. 

There was no fucking way Charlie was “damaged goods.” Rage bubbled in Nick’s chest as Ben Hope’s face flashed through his mind. They’d only interacted a handful of times, but suddenly Nick was recontextualizing every single one of those encounters. Back when he was still clashing so strongly with Charlie, Nick had felt a lot of schadenfreude at how Charlie cowered before Ben. Christ, if Nick hadn’t been so dead-set at the time on villainizing Charlie, he probably would have seen the red flags sooner. 

“Nick.”

Nick suddenly realised Charlie had moved next to him on the sofa and was holding Nick’s hands in his own. They were trembling. Charlie’s fingers wrapped around his fists, cold flesh against his hot skin.

“Charlie, I — I’m sorry, I —”

“Nick, just breathe with me, okay?” Charlie said reassuringly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth, like we learned.”

Nick nodded, and sucked in air through his nose. The exhale was audibly shaky, and Charlie ran one hand soothingly up and down his arm as they repeated the exercise for about two minutes. By the end of it, Nick’s pulse had calmed and the clenching in his chest had loosened. He was still upset, but it wasn’t overwhelming him.

He looked up at Charlie, who was watching him curiously.

“Char, I’m so sorry,” Nick said. “That was… I shouldn’t have reacted that strongly. It was your story, your life —”

“Nick, it’s okay,” Charlie interrupted. “I kind of… dumped a lot out there. I haven’t told many people about that before.”

Nick breathed a few more times. “Thank you for telling me. For… trusting me.”

“Believe it or not, Nick Nelson, I do trust you,” Charlie said. “And if someone had told me that back when we first met, I’d have asked for an MRI.”

Nick giggled, and so did Charlie, breaking the tension inside Nick.

“Oh, um, there’s one more thing,” Charlie said.

There was that tension again.

“Yeah?”

“Ever since moving here, I have… occasionally… still hooked up with Ben.” Charlie’s voice was incredibly hesitant. “It’s a stupid thing to do, but sometimes it was nice to just… have someone want me, even just for my body, even if he was a selfish prick.”

There was that bubble of anger again.

“Charlie, did he — did Ben…”

Charlie shook his head. “No, no. It’s not that. I was a willing participant. Although I suppose him being my boss makes it rather complicated.”

Well, at least it wasn’t that level of bad.

“Do you still — I mean, it’s okay if — no, nevermind it’s not my business,” Nick murmured. 

Charlie huffed through his nose. “I haven’t, not since — not since the animal shelter, and our encounter in the conference room.”

Nick grinned. “That was definitely an encounter.”

“I will never forget you waltzing out of there with cum on your hand, oh my god,” Charlie said, laughing. 

“And in my pants!” Nick yelped. “Oh lord, that was a rough walk home.”

Charlie snorted, briefly, and kept his frozen for all of one and a half seconds before he erupted laughter. Nick immediately followed suit, the two of them leaning against one another on the sofa and howled. 

“You… you want to know the funniest part?” Charlie said through tears. “Ben had a meeting in that room right after us and… and I heard him tell someone afterward it smelled kind of funky!”

Nick bent over guffawing as Charlie rolled onto his back, convulsing with laughter.

The catharsis was so, so welcome, and when they finally came back down to earth, Nick just pulled Charlie’s head into his lap and stroked his hair for a while.

That night, as they lay side by side after a lengthy snogging session with sleep approaching, Charlie spoke up.

“Hey Nick.”

He grunted in response.

“I was wondering if maybe… you’d tell me a little about your dad and brother?”

Nick opened his groggy eyes. Charlie was looking at him cautiously.

“I don’t mean to pry, but… you know, we’ve previously established that maybe they’re connected to your anger stuff. And I figured turnabout was fair play, what with me opening up earlier.”

Nick hated when Charlie was right. Which was pretty much always.

“What do you want to know?” he sighed.

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. The whole deal, I guess. You’ve said very little about them, other than that you called your father an arsehole who you haven't seen in over 15 years and your brother an arsehole you haven't talked to in a few years. That sounds pretty rough.”

“You’ve got the broad details, then,” Nick replied. 

“Your father really hasn’t contacted you since you were nine?”

Nick huffed and rolled over onto his back. Somehow he felt this might be easier if he stared at the ceiling.

“No. I guess… I think he didn’t want kids. Or maybe came to regret it. He also wanted to return to Paris, and my mum of course wanted to stay here. So I guess that was it. Honestly, I was young enough that I didn’t even really notice until suddenly he was packing up luggage and clearing out his closet. And then he was gone. He sent letters for a while. And money — guilt payments, maybe. Or maybe he’s so fucking rich he didn’t even notice the drain on his account. That was the one upside. His money sent me to St. Andrew’s.”

Charlie remained quiet, though he was running one hand up and down Nick’s bare arm.

“I know, it’s extremely obvious that I have daddy issues.”

“What about your brother. Um, David?”

“He was older when our father left. Thirteen. He was already kind of a moody bastard but papa leaving really brought out the inner arsehole. He never, like, hit me or anything. But he constantly blamed me for him leaving. And he was smart enough to do most of it when mum wasn’t around. So the only defence I had was to give back as good as I got. That was my arsehole training. Fucking child soldier.”

Charlie didn’t immediately respond. He hummed, and moved his hand to play with the hairs on Nick’s chest and around his nipple.

“I’m sorry your brother was shit about it,” Charlie said after a while.

Nick’s breathing was shallow. Though he wasn’t out of breath, he felt the urge to take a deep breath but simply found himself unable to expand his lungs properly. It was like his chest was constricted. Nick closed his eyes and concentrated on saturating his lungs. It took half a dozen more inhales before the constriction faded and he felt like he could breathe properly again.

“Are you okay?”

Charlie looked at him with some mild concern and had stopped playing with his chest hairs. 

Nick blinked a few times. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Nick shrugged. “Sometimes I just feel… stupid. For being this way. It’s not like anything truly bad ever happened to me. My dad and brother didn’t beat me or anything… I have no right —”

“Nick,” Charlie interrupted. He twisted and draped himself across Nick’s chest, using him as an armrest to look down at him. Soft blue eyes met brown ones fighting back moisture. “Bad things did happen to you. I mean, you weren’t physically hurt, that’s good news, but emotional abuse and neglect are devastating, too. Particularly with you since… um…”

Nick quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I — no, nevermind.”

“Oh, come on, please? Look, we’re diving in head first today, might as well make it count.”

Charlie sucked in a breath. “Okay. Particularly because you’re a very touchy-feely guy.”

Nick barked out a laugh. He had not been expecting that. He figured Charlie had some keen insight into his cracked and taped-together soul, but this was just funny.

Charlie was quizzical.

“Me? Nick Nelson? Touchy-feely? You’re way off, Char.”

“I’m literally draped over your body right now.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, you’re different. We’re… you know.”

“Actually, I’m not 100 percent sure I do,” Charlie said. “But yeah, I’m different. And your mum is different. And Sai and Imogen are different. You see where I’m going with this?”

Nick looked around the ceiling as if the answer was projected on the plain white paint. “That I have four whole people I care about in this world?”

He looked back just in time to catch Charlie looking away and his lips quirking ever so slightly into a smile. Aha! Got him with that one. A light blush spread across his cheeks and neck.

“Noooo,” Charlie said. “And I know the number is higher than four. What I mean is, when you trust someone, you’re incredibly affectionate. Not in like a weird sexual way — except with me, feel free to be as weirdly sexually affectionate as you like — but just in a casually intimate way. So casual it seems you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh come off it,” Nick said. “Everyone’s like that.”

“Er, not really. And certainly not to this extent,” Charlie replied. “Face it, Nick, you’re a tactile guy. That’s not a bad thing. I quite like it, actually.” 

Nick sighed heavily. He was tired, emotionally at least. And it was hard to deny that Charlie’s presence atop his torso had been making him feel calm and low-grade tingly all over for the past few minutes. Like a human weight blanket.

“Well,” he finally replied, wrapping his arms around Charlie and pulling him into kissing range. “When the person is as beautiful as you, it’s hard to resist.” He brought their lips together and they kissed for a minute until Charlie pulled back.

“Sorry, just wanted to confirm you said I’m ‘beautiful,’ for the record?”

“Oh god, you’re gonna be like that?”

“Well, it’s just that you’ve called me a lot of names before. Nincompoop, dumbass…”

“Twink.”

Charlie scrunched up his face. “When did you call me a twink?”

“Erm.” Nick squirmed. “In my head. Like a thousand times. Um. Many of those might have been preceded by the word ‘fuckable.’”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up underneath his overhanging curls. 

“Oh my god, really?”

“I hope that’s… okay?”

Charlie giggled. “Twink is not a dirty word. Or, well, not on its own.” He laughed some more and caressed Nick’s cheek before sliding off him and latching onto his side.

“When did you… first think I was hot?”

Nick thought back. If he was being honest…

“I think it was the first time I walked into the conference room. I know we’d seen each other at Cuppa’s, but I was honestly so enraged at the time that I didn’t really take you in. But then in the conference room… I remember your curls. All your sharp features. Your eyebrows.” His voice was getting a little too dreamy; rein it in. “What about you? When did you realise I was hot?”

“Jury’s still out,” Charlie replied.

Nick squawked, and Charlie laughed, his body shaking against Nick’s.

“All right, all right. Erm. Yeah, it was the first time we met. Working customer service like that, people tend to blend together. Honestly, if you’d waited in line, I may not have really noticed you. But then you cut to the front and I actually looked at you and your fucking perfect hair and adorable freckles and those eyes… honestly I panicked a little. At least some of my oppositional defiance may have been overcompensation. Erm. Sorry.”

It was Nick’s turn to laugh.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I kind of like how things have turned out. And all it cost was tens of thousands of pounds for a PR contract and that guy’s broken leg.”

Charlie pressed a kiss to Nick’s bicep. 

“I kind of like how it turned out, too.”

Notes:

From the beta notes:

KSO: Yes, Nick... I know what you want :evil face:
Henry: Say it
KSO: whispers Breeding Kink

Chapter 17

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick takes Charlie home for the rest of the holidays to 1) fuck his brains out and 2) have serious conversations.

This time: More 1) fucking and 2) serious conversations.

Notes:

I wish human cloning were legal so everyone could have a KitSaidOui beta reader in their lives. But until then, back off, he's mine.

Reminder that the "🥙" emojis below signal the sections depicting armpit kink. Reader discretion is advised.

The next morning, Nick lay awake watching Charlie sleep. He had drifted off easily after the prior night’s activities, but a nagging question had woken him up a little early. He knew Charlie had taken the job with Ben out of desperation to escape his controlling mother. But why was he still working for Ben, when it — and he — were so horrible?

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” Charlie mumbled, barely coherent. He hadn’t even opened his eyes, but it must have been obvious Nick was staring.

Actually…

Nick swung his arm behind him and grabbed around until he picked up his phone. He pulled it over, unlocked it and opened the camera, quickly snapping half a dozen photos of the dozing man in his bed. 

“Oh, god, Nick, I must look like a crusty goblin or something…”

“Why do you think I want the pictures?” Nick asked smarmily. 

Charlie groaned and rubbed his face into the pillow, writhing around a bit until he ended up on his side facing Nick. His eyes squinted in the morning light. Nick choked down the adjectives he wanted to blurt out, instead coming back to the thing that had bothered him.

“Char… If you don’t want to answer this, it’s okay, but I’m just confused about something,” he started. “Why are you still working for Ben? Why not just find another agency?”

Charlie rolled onto his back.

“God, I’d love to. But… Ben would blackball me.”

Nick sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. “Wait, really?”

“He straight up told me that once,” Charlie said. He was so matter of fact, like this was even anywhere near the realm of acceptability. Nick wondered if he’d been under Ben’s thumb for so long that Charlie had given up all hope of freedom. 

There had to be a way.

“What about some other kind of job? You have a degree in classics, yeah?”

“Nick,” Charlie chided lightly, and Nick knew immediately how stupid he must sound. “I told you, I found out I actually like working in PR, when I’m not dealing with Ben or… or, well, my more pig-headed clients.”

Nick oinked a little, embarrassed, and Charlie gently smacked his arm.

“More importantly, Ben would bad-mouth me to any future employer,” Charlie continued. “He did that once. Not long before you signed up, there was this junior agent who had left and tried to get a job at a bigger agency in Manchester. Ben completely trashed her when they called for a reference. And he hadn’t even been sleeping with her! I — I don’t think, anyway…”

Nick quietly seethed. He couldn’t believe Tara had gotten him in bed with someone this awful. (Ben, that is — Nick was very happy at how she had gotten him literally in bed with Charlie.) But of course, she probably didn’t know either. Nick knew enough about Ben by now to know that the grinning, glittering exterior was vastly different from his true form.

There had to be a way to get Charlie out from under Ben’s thumb…

“Nick, I can hear the little fan in your head whirring from here,” Charlie said, running one hand up and down his arm soothingly. “This isn’t a new problem. I know I’m stuck in a mousetrap. I just need to keep looking until I find the way out.”

Nick focused on balling his anger and frustration into a tiny speck, and then imagined watching that speck float away, out the window and off into the distance. He didn’t need to swoop in and figure out how to save the day. If Charlie needed his help specifically, Nick would be waiting. And in the meantime, he’d have fun imagining connecting his fist to Ben’s face, and then Ben’s face to the pavement. 

Later, over breakfast, Nick declared a desire to go work out at the stadium gym. He hadn’t been doing much physical exercise since Christmas, and not only was he champing at the bit for some (non-thrusting) physical activity, but he also really needed to keep up his regimen for professional reasons. 

“You can come along, if you want, run on the treadmill or whatever,” Nick said as he sipped some tea. “With the holidays, probably won’t be anyone there anyway.”

Charlie shot him a strange look. Fuck. Too much, too soon. It meant being seen together, at least by some of the security staff, even if they didn’t run into any actual teammates. Obviously, they’d been seen together before, but working out together over the holidays… harder to spin as professional. 

“Um, I’m not sure that’s a great idea given how I reacted last time to you being post-workout,” Charlie said. Nick blushed; his mind flashed with images of Charlie, soaked in sweat, riding him and going hog wild on his pits in that sauna. Nick’s cock began inflating, and it took a few minutes of concentrating on the BBC website on his phone before it deflated again.

“But, um,” Charlie added as he spread jam across his toast. “Maybe you could do me a favour and come home without showering first?”

Nick looked at him. “Home?”

Charlie froze for a moment. “I mean. This is your home, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Nick said with narrow eyes. Charlie studiously avoided his gaze. Never had toast been so fascinating. 

Later, they departed together. Charlie wanted to run home and swap out some clothes for the next few days at Nick’s — Nick had offered to spend time at his, but Charlie said he was perfectly happy staying over instead. 

They walked a few blocks together until their paths diverged. Standing on the quiet residential street corner in the frigid late December air, Nick looked at Charlie. He realised it was pretty much the first extended time they’d be apart since the Christmas break began, a couple of dog walks notwithstanding.

Fuck. Why did Nick… feel this much? They were only going to be apart for a few hours, anyway. And he was going to be occupied that whole time. 

Nick marvelled at how this little annoying barista had turned out to be nothing of the kind. He also worried that these feelings were approaching overwhelming. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and the depth of longing was actually fucking terrifying. What about if and when Charlie had enough of him and moved on? Holy shit, that would be painful. Like, might-kill-him levels of hurt. 

He shook his head vigorously, cheeks flapping a little with the force. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Think healthy thoughts, healthy thoughts.

Fortunately, Charlie was focused on tapping out something on his phone, and Nick managed to get enough of a grip by the time he looked up that his little quarter-minute crisis there had faded.

“So… see you in a few hours?” Charlie asked.

Nick nodded.

“Remember — don’t shower.”

He smirked. “Your wish is my command.”

“And no deodorant either, before or after.”

“Yes, sir.”

And then it was time to go their different directions. But neither did. They stood for a minute, just staring at one another. 

“Right,” Charlie said. “Erm. Bye.”

He suddenly leapt forward, planting a kiss right on Nick’s lips. It wasn’t particularly heated, it lasted just a peck, but it left arcs of electricity on his face. And then the back of Charlie’s head, dark curls, speed-walking away.

A few hours later, Nick turned the key and pushed through his front door. Other than Alastair the security guard, the stadium gym had been completely deserted, and he’d spent most of his time there trying to let his mind go blank. Trying and failing, because inevitably after a few minutes his thoughts would return to the curly haired man waiting for him.

He had a straight shot view down the hall into the living room, where Charlie was curled up on the sofa reading a book. He put a bookmark in it and hopped up when Nick entered.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Nick dropped his duffel. He felt kind of gross, to be honest, but this seemed to be what Charlie was going for. Maybe he’d feel less gross when —

Charlie bounded across the room and threw himself on Nick, pressing him against the door and snogging him silly. Okay, he was starting to feel a little less gross. Charlie’s roving hands were sending tingles up and down Nick’s sides, and then he started grinding his pelvis against Nick, dirty groans coming from both men.

With a great display of willpower, Nick put his hands on Charlie’s biceps and pushed him back. 

“How was your day?” he asked, his breath heaving.

“Fine,” Charlie huffed, his eyes darting down to Nick’s reddened lips.

“Get what you needed from your flat?”

“Yeah.”

“Was, um, did you see Tao?”

“Nick,” Charlie replied. “Your interest in my day is very sweet. But I’m already going buck wild and you haven’t even taken your hoodie off, so I need you to shut up and get inside me as soon as possible.”

There’s direct, and then there’s Charlie Spring when he wants your cock.

“I… can do that.”

Charlie grabbed Nick’s hand and yanked him forward into his bedroom, twirling him around until Nick crashed into the bed backwards. Charlie mounted him and growled — actually, lips snarled, bare teeth, growled — before attacking the side of Nick’s neck with his lips. He kept the kissing light (their no-visible-marks rule), though Nick noticed he spent a little extra time behind his ear, where the hair was still damp with sweat even after his walk home in the cold December air. 

Then Charlie reared upright, tugging at Nick’s hoodie.

“Off, off, off,” he chanted.

Nick lifted his arms and Charlie pulled the hoodie straight off him. After he shook out his hair, Nick realised Charlie was sniffing the garment.

“I’m never going to see that again, am I?” he asked with lopsided grin.

“Don’t be daft,” Charlie said, bundling it up and dropping it off the side of the bed. “The smell will wear off eventually.” 

He then immediately grabbed at the collar of Nick’s undershirt, pulling that off as well and smooshing it against his nose. Nick fell backward, propping himself up on his elbows. When Charlie’s face appeared again, his eyes were blown dark and his mouth was set in determination. Nick was scared, but he was also fucking twitching in his pants. 

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

“Can I… can I please smell you?” Charlie asked, his voice low and sexy. 

Nick responded by falling onto his back and locking his hands behind his head — exposing his sweaty armpits. Charlie sucked in a breath before diving in, literally, his nose and mouth smashing against Nick’s left armpit. It tickled a little at first, and Nick suppressed some giggles as Charlie licked at him, but then it turned into a pleasant tingling sensation and he could just melt into it. 

He didn’t pretend to fully understand why Charlie was so into this, but it was hugely flattering that he was. Something to do with pheromones. Being wanted. If this made Charlie want him even more, Nick might never wear deodorant again. (Not really. That locker room was rank enough already when the other guys were there. But for Charlie…)

As Charlie alternated between deep inhales of his musky scent and long licks of the hair, Charlie rutted against Nick filthily. Between the little noises Charlie was making as he pigged out and the frottage down south, Nick was getting dangerously close to blowing in his pants. 

“Charlie? Charlie, can we…”

Charlie reared his head up, his lips and cheeks soaked with saliva (and probably some of his sweat, Nick realised with a red face).

“Is it too much?” he gasped. “I’m sorry, we can stop —”

“Char,” Nick chided lightly as he dropped his arms to his side. “The only way it’s ‘too much’ is that I’m going to explode in my jeans unless we pause for a minute.”

Charlie looked at him. “You… like it?”

“Wasn’t that obvious?” Nick chuckled. “I mean, it’s a little bit of an odd sensation. No one’s ever done that to me before. But like… it feels nice. And it clearly drives you wild, which is, you know… a huge turn-on for me.” He felt himself blush. Weird that it was the words that did it and not Charlie licking his armpit like a lollipop. 

Nick wasn’t the only one. Pink bloomed on Charlie’s cheeks until he lowered his forehead to Nick’s chest. 

They lay like that for a minute, Nick slowly but surely backing away from the edge as he carded his fingers through Charlie’s hair. 

“Could we maybe… ditch the rest of these clothes?” he offered.

With a grin, they arose and undressed. Both their cocks were well swollen, hanging heavy between their legs, and both men giggled a bit at the sight, coyly avoiding the other’s gaze.

“So… how do you want me?” Nick finally asked, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Erm… I liked what we were doing before,” Charlie said sheepishly.

Nick smiled lopsidedly. “I liked that, too,” he said lowly. “Just, maybe this time, careful with the grinding, or it’ll be over too soon.”

He lay back down on the bed, his head propped up on the pillows. Charlie started at the end of the bed, crawling up on all fours. He stopped to lick Nick’s cock a few times, swirling the head around in his mouth and fondling his heavy balls, before tonguing his way up Nick’s torso. Charlie stuck his mouth into the crook of Nick’s neck, laving over the sensitive flesh there, before manoeuvring to his right armpit and resuming sniffing and smelling.

There was that lovely tingling sensation again. Nick wasn’t sure which was nicer, the slow waves of sensation that rippled outward from where Charlie’s mouth met his armpit, or the contented little noises Charlie was making. Wet, filthy noises as his tongue swirled over the area, saliva mixing with sweat. But also tiny snorts and grunts, happy noises, absolutely driving Nick wild, especially since they were so close to his ear. Nick’s cock was leaking as Charlie had his fill, and the engorged cock pressed into his hip indicated Charlie was enjoying himself as well.

After a while Charlie pulled back and kissed his way across Nick’s chest until he reached his nipple. Charlie’s tongue rolled over it several times until Nick felt it start to harden, the tip sticking out slightly for Charlie to play with. Holy shit, that felt good. Like, really good. He never knew men’s nipples, let alone his own, could provide that kind of pleasure. Nick threw his head back onto the pillow and moaned, his caterwauling echoing off the walls.

“You like that, huh?” Charlie asked with a smirk.

“Holy fuck, Charlie,” Nick replied, his voice warbly and wrecked. “How are you doing that?”

Charlie scrunched up his face. “I’m just sucking your tits, Nick. Has no one ever done that before?”

Nick gasped and shook his head.

Charlie sighed. “You’ve been so neglected. But I’ll make it right.”

He ducked back down and suddenly Nick’s left nipple was in his mouth, and holy shit there was that feeling again, pleasure pulsing through Nick. His abs flexed involuntarily as his whole body shook, his arreola shrivelling and hardening beneath Charlie’s tongue. Mewls filled the air, Nick unable to stop himself from making such embarrassing noises. He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the noise, until Charlie reached up and ripped it off.

“Don’t you dare hide your pleasure, Nicholas Nelson,” he growled before switching back to Nick’s right nipple. Strangled noises spouted from his throat at the combination of electricity on his right nipple and cold air hitting the wetness on his left.

Apparently having chased Nick’s pleasure long enough, Charlie switched to his own, burying his face again in Nick’s other armpit. It let Nick back off the brink a little bit, but after a while Charlie snaked a hand up and began tweaking one of his nipples, and suddenly there he was again. Charlie snapped his hips forward, his dick rubbing against Nick’s, their precum the only lubricant between them, and between the feelings in his groin and on his nipple and in his armpit, Nick was perilously close.

“Charlie… Charlie if you don’t stop I’m gonna… oh my god…”

More strangled noises from his throat, and Charlie must have heard him because he doubled down on everything — licking Nick’s armpit, twisting his nipple, grinding against him.

 

🥙🥙🥙

 

It was too much. It was perfect.

Pressed together, their bodies quaked. So did the bed, the walls, the earth. 

Nick felt like a rocket was propelling him down into the mattress as the orgasm overwhelmed his body and mind. All he could do was writhe around, and the only thing he could really feel was Charlie pressed against him, rutting against him, screaming against him.

When he recovered, Nick was heaving on his back, Charlie lying on top of him facedown in an armpit. Even with Charlie atop him, Nick could sense an epic amount of bodily fluids smeared between them. Hair drenched in sweat stuck to his forehead; little aftershocks of pleasure pulsed down his limbs.

“Holy shit,” he finally gasped out.

Charlie snorted and lifted his head.

“Thank you,” he said, laying his head on Nick’s heaving chest. “Thank you for letting me do that.”

Nick huffed. “ Letting you do that? Holy shit, Char, that was possibly the hottest sex of my life.”

“I — really?”

“Yes, really. Is the, like, litre of cum I erupted onto you just now proof enough that I liked it?” His head lolled back on the pillow. “I may never shower after the gym again!”

Charlie giggled. “You leaving stank everywhere you go — that definitely would make my job harder.”

They lay there for a few minutes more, hearts beating more and more slowly.

“Um, speaking of showers… I’m starting to feel like that android in Alien,” Nick said. “You know the scene.”

“Oh my god, gross,” Charlie replied mirthfully. 

Nick crooked his head. “You’ll join me, right?”

Charlie just smiled.

As warm water cascaded down their wrecked bodies and he ran a soapy washcloth over Charlie’s back, Nick thought over what he had said.

“Hey, Char.”

He hummed in response, the vibrations travelling up Nick’s arm.

“Earlier when you… thanked me for ‘letting you’ lick my pits… well, it’s just made me wonder. Did Ben…” he trailed off.

Charlie’s head ducked.

“No, he hated that,” Charlie said, his voice barely audible over the flowing water. “He said it was… disgusting.”

Nick’s heart plummeted. He could understand how that kink, and really any kink, may not be right for everyone. But to call something that made Charlie so happy “disgusting”...

Seriously, they were going to have to stop meeting at the offices of Hope Public Relations. Because Nick wasn’t sure he’d be able to prevent a bad PR event if he ever saw Ben Hope again.

Nick placed his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and gently spun him around until they were facing. Charlie stared determinedly at Nick’s chest.

“He’s fucking wrong,” Nick said. He placed one hand under Charlie’s chin and lifted it until their eyes met.

“I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re beautiful.”

Nick dipped his head and kissed Charlie as the water washed it all away.

 

***

 

When Nick awoke the next morning, he was lying on his side. Charlie was curled up beside him, one arm extended to rest his hand on Nick’s bicep. He was peaceful, all smooth skin and dynamic hair, his nose flaring a bit as he slumbered. A little smelly, too, since he’d put on Nick’s workout shirt to sleep in, the dirty boy. It had made Nick chuckle, which masked the more complex feelings that arose seeing Charlie in his clothes, even if it was his cruddy workout shirt.

The b-word Nick had dropped in the shower the previous day ping-ponged back and forth in his brain as he observed Charlie in the soft morning light. 

So did another word that started with a different letter. 

That word was much scarier. It was also wildly premature. Nick tamped it down in the recesses of his mind. 

Maybe something about his breathing had shifted and alerted Charlie to his wakefulness, because the curly haired man’s eye slit open.

“Good morning,” Nick croaked out, his voice gravelly from the night.

Charlie hummed in response as he pawed at the sleep dust in his eye. It seemed he wasn’t much of a morning person. 

“Sleep okay?” Nick asked.

“I did,” Charlie replied. “What’s this mattress made out of, anyway? I haven’t slept this well in a long time.”

“Erm… I don’t know, really,” Nick replied, thinking. “Everyone on the team got one last year, some kind of social media sponsorship thing. But yeah, it’s nice.”

“What’s it like, getting free crap just because you’re good with balls?” Charlie asked, his lips quirked in a light smirk.

“You’re pretty good with balls,” Nick replied. “Don’t they give you free stuff for that?”

“No! Oh my god, here I am handling balls for free, like a chump!”

They giggled, and Nick reached out to brush back a rogue curl that had fallen across Charlie’s eye. He ended up caressing his temple and cheek in a comfortable quiet.

Charlie began rustling around, and Nick assumed he had to use the loo. But instead he lifted up the duvet and shuffled closer to Nick, right up against him. Their faces were about as close as they could get without touching; warm exhalation flowed across Nick’s skin in waves. Slowly, tortuously slowly, Charlie leaned in until their lips brushed against one another, so lightly Nick wasn’t entirely sure they’d actually made contact. Then he was sure as Charlie pressed against him.

They made out for a while until Charlie’s fingers knocked on Nick’s back door. 

“Could I… finger you a little?”

Nick gulped and nodded. Charlie smiled and planted another kiss on him before leaning over to grab supplies.

“This lube’s almost gone,” he said, shaking the near empty bottle.

“More in the bedside table,” Nick replied.

Charlie rolled over, opened the drawer and gasped.

“Nicholas Nelson! Is this a… pocket pussy?”

Oh right. He forgot about his toys.

“Erm. Yeah. Sorry.”

Charlie pulled out the floppy rubber toy that looked like a mouth and inspected it.

“Oh my god, don’t be sorry. I can’t believe you have a pocket — well, I guess this one is a pocket thrussy,” Charlie said. Thankfully, Christian had once shared a thrussy meme in the team chat so Nick knew what the hell Charlie was talking about. “Ooh, now I can think about you shoving this around your cock at night… fucking it… does it feel good, Nick?”

“It’s not bad,” he replied cheekily. “Got nothing on you, though.”

“Damn right.”

Charlie tossed the pocket thrussy aside and grabbed a fresh bottle of lube — it sure does pay to be prepared. Nick settled leaning back against the headboard as Charlie positioned himself between his open legs. He warmed a bit of lube on his fingers and began rubbing Nick’s rim. Sparks quickly filled his vision as Charlie’s finger pads circled his sensitive hole. He pushed in, first one finger, then a second, and finally with a curl and a jab Charlie was hitting Nick’s prostate and nearly overwhelming him with sensation.

They had settled somewhat organically into typical top and bottom roles, but even Nick knew in 2023 that most people weren’t strictly one or the other. He had to admit he was really enjoying what Charlie was doing — those slender fingers were performing magic inside his hole. But he knew a few fingers were quite different from a dick — especially a monster like Charlie’s.

As if he had read Nick’s thoughts, Charlie said he had a proposal that Nick could feel free to reject.

Nick was intrigued, though he still whined when Charlie pulled out, leaving his hole empty. Charlie walked over to his bag and rummaged around with his clean hand for a moment before pulling out — a purple dildo. 

Objectively, Nick knew it wasn’t extremely large — perhaps 5 inches. But it was a hell of a lot larger than anything else he’d ever had inside him. He shivered.

”I thought maybe… we could try this?” Charlie said hesitantly. “Picked it up at my flat yesterday.”

“Oh, fuck,” was all Nick could say, his head lolling back on the pillow.

“Tell you what,” Charlie said, sliding back into place in between Nick’s wantonly spread legs. “Just try it, and if you don’t like it, we stop immediately? Okay? But I have to say, judging on your reaction to my fingers… I think you’re going to like it.”

Nick quivered as Charlie’s finger circled his stretched rim idly while he waited for an answer.

“Fuck. Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Charlie grinned. He reached over and grabbed a condom.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked confusedly as Charlie began rolling the rubber down the silicone dildo. “That thing is clean, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie replied. “I’ve just learned this makes for much easier cleanup, is all.”

The blunt head pushed against Nick’s entrance.

“Remember, I’ll stop immediately if you say so,” he replied. 

Nick nodded, and Charlie pushed the thing forward. It was an unusual sensation at first, but Charlie had pretty well prepped him, so it didn’t hurt. Nick gasped and clawed at bedsheets as Charlie pushed it in further, further, until suddenly Nick could feel Charlie’s hand in his cleft — the dildo was fully inserted.

“You took that so well, Nick, you’re being so good,” Charlie whispered as his free hand ran up and down Nick’s thigh. “Fucking beautiful arse is perfect, oh my god.” He was busy staring at the place where the flared end emerged from Nick, where his reddened rim was getting the stretch of its life.

Nick would have thought his erection would flag from the strange feelings, but it was just the opposite. He didn’t know his cock actually could get that hard.

“Gonna pull out a little now,” Charlie warned, and then the slippery sliding sensation as the dildo was withdrawn partway from his arse. It felt almost good in that direction as it did going in, and Nick’s wrecked eyes met Charlie’s just before he smirked and suddenly shoved the thing back inside him. Nick saw stars — honest-to-god stars — in his vision as the purple dildo scraped past his prostate. He yelped, loudly, his eyes squinched shut.

Out, in, out, in, Charlie maneuvered the dildo expertly for a while just fucking into Nick.

“Oh my god, your hole, Nick… so hot watching you take this dildo,” Charlie groaned. 

“Wanna take more,” Nick whimpered back, unable to look at Charlie properly or, apparently, form complex sentences. “Wanna take you, Char.”

“Fuck.”

Charlie’s swear was so low Nick almost didn’t hear it.

“You can, baby, you can one day,” Charlie replied. “We just need to work up to it, is all. And for now, you’re doing so fucking good, Jesus.”

Nick focused on the feeling of the dildo plunging in and out of him, the strange drag of rubber against his insides, the pump action that sent little zips of energy along his limbs. Charlie’s free hand was rolling his balls around like giant dice; so far, he’d left Nick’s throbbing cock unattended.

“What’s it like… what’s it like when it’s a real cock?” Nick managed to gasp.

Charlie hummed. “I think the biggest difference is it feels so much more… dynamic? Like, a dildo’s great, I don’t want to undersell this experience you’re having. But a dick… It’s attached to a person, and then every little movement by that person, you can feel. I mean, feel. It’s so hot — you’re so incredibly connected to the other person.”

The handful of brain cells that were currently still functional processed what Charlie was describing. Nick sort of knew what Charlie was talking about — being buried inside Charlie, he also could feel every little movement. But it sounded like it was more intense as the bottom. And more intense than this experience… Nick wasn’t sure he would survive bottoming for Charlie Spring, and not because of his size.

By this point Nick was sweating profusely, his skin blotchy all over and the sheets a mess underneath his writhing form.

“Nick… I want to try something. If you’re okay with it?”

He opened his eyes and saw Charlie holding up the pocket thrussy.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

He nodded, unable to form even a simple word like yes. Charlie grinned wickedly, lodged the dildo firmly in Nick’s arse, and then poured some lube into the toy before slathering some onto Nick’s cock as well.

He pressed the mouth of the toy against the head of Nick’s cock and slowly enveloped him. Nick quivered incessantly, unable to stop embarrassing gurgling noises emanating from his throat as Charlie started jacking him off with the pocket thrussy. It was when Charlie resumed fucking him with the dildo, silicone up his arse and around his cock, that Nick began whimpering and yelping, his abs and other muscles flexing as seemingly every erogenous nerve ending in his body was lit aflame. 

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, he felt tension building in his groin, though it was a little different from any he’d felt before.

“Charlie — gonna… oh my god —”

“Go ahead, Nick,” Charlie growled. “Come for me. Be a good boy and let go.”

Nick did.

He’s pretty sure his eyes actually rolled into the back of his head, but his brain stopped being able to process everything happening to him just then so his memories were spotty. All he remembered was the feeling of clenching down around the dildo, legs trembling, toes honest-to-god curling, as he unloaded inside the pocket thrussy, warm slickness filling up the toy.

And causing it all: Charlie Fucking Spring.

As the last vestige of his orgasm receded, Nick flopped back on the mattress, gasping for breath, his lungs struggling to compensate. He twitched randomly all over.

Holy fuck.

That was…

Nick didn’t really have time to process any of that, because he felt Charlie gently pulling the pocket thrussy off his swollen cock. He leaned up to look as it flopped down onto his belly — and noticed Charlie brought the toy down to his own cock.

“What are you doing, Char?”

Charlie looked up at him.

“Erm… sloppy seconds? If that’s okay?”

Nick’s eyes widened. Charlie wanted to fuck the toy. The one full of Nick’s seed. Was that okay???

“Yes, that’s very fucking okay,” Nick replied. “Erm — take the dildo out?”

Charlie did, pulling it out and dropping it on the sheets beside them. Nick wanted to whinge at the feeling of emptiness it left behind, but more importantly, he wanted to see what Charlie was about to do. He summoned the strength to shuffle backward a bit and sit upright, Charlie still kneeling within the well created by his legs.

He watched as Charlie pressed the toy to his pulsing head and pushed in until it breached the rubber ring moulded to look like a pair of lips. He slid it down a bit before moaning.

“Oh my god… Nick, can feel your cum in here. Oh Jesus,” Charlie murmured. Something in the back of Nick’s mind flagged that, strictly speaking, this wasn’t safe sex, but he wasn’t about to interrupt Charlie chasing his pleasure so wantonly using Nick’s seed.

Charlie began jacking off with the toy, tiny huffs and muffled squelching the only noises making it past the roaring blood in his ear.

Nick reached forward and cupped one hand against Charlie cheek before tucking some errant curls behind his ear. 

“You’re so beautiful, Charlie,” Nick said.

He opened his eyes, meeting Nick’s gaze, and his irises were surprisingly soft for someone who was fucking a sex toy filled with Nick’s spend.

“Oh, Nick, fuck,” Charlie said, clenching his eyes. “Gonna —”

“Do it.”

“I — I’m — oh fuuuuuuuu…”

Charlie’s voice petered out as he climaxed, releasing a second wave deep inside the pocket thrussy. Nick’s dick twitched at the thought of both their essences mingling together inside the thing. It was so fucking hot to watch Charlie shake apart like this.

As he came down from the high, Charlie leaned forward a bit, and Nick moved in to kiss his forehead and run his fingers through his curly hair. After a minute, Charlie carefully slid the toy off his cock and set it aside. Nick put his strong rugby arms to use and carefully manoeuvred Charlie so he was lying down on his back, with Nick partly lying on top of his nude form but most of his weight distributed onto the mattress on the side. 

They made out for a while, then just settled into resting, Nick’s face perched on Charlie’s chest. He could hear Charlie’s heart pumping, feel the blood flowing.

“That was… wow,” Nick finally said.

“Yeah.” Charlie played idly with Nick’s hair in one hand. “Did um… you like that?”

Nick chuckled. “Was the blackout orgasm I had not evidence enough?” he asked cheekily.

“Yeah, I just meant — the dildo. Maybe you didn’t like that part. You could have come without liking that part.”

Nick moved to prop his head up in one hand. “Yeah, Charlie, I liked that part, too. I’m open to more exploration. And I really do want to… do that… with you someday. I just need to get some yoga tips from Imogen or something first.” He grinned, and Charlie laughed.

“Okay, good,” Charlie replied. “No pressure, though, I don’t want to do anything before you’re comfortable and ready. And in the meantime… I think we’ve established how much I like it when you top.”

Nick moved until his lips were an inch away from Charlie’s. “I had an inkling…”

They kissed a bit more until Nick felt his stomach rumble, so loudly that Charlie involuntarily giggled.

“Guess we should clean up and get some food, huh.”

They gathered up the toys and such and walked into Nick’s bathroom. It wasn’t very pleasant, but they both knew toys need to be cleaned relatively soon after sex — or the problem got a hundred times worse. 

The dildo was relatively easy — smart thinking from Charlie to use a condom. 

But the pocket thrussy was a different story, in no small part since they’d both blasted a load in there. Nick found himself making sounds of disgust as he rinsed it out, the water carrying away globs of their jizz. It was decidedly unsexy.

“Oh my god,” Charlie said when he looked up from wiping down his cock with a warm washcloth. 

“I know,” Nick replied.

“Jesus… the post-nut clarity is slamming me like a freight train today, yuck,” Charlie said.

Nick just laughed. He knew exactly what Charlie meant. On more than one occasion he had nutted to some porn and in the aftermath looked at what he was watching and grimaced. But in the heat of the moment, hormones raging and blood pooled in one’s cock, you don’t care about that stuff.

Finally, the clean-up was done, the toys were propped up to dry and Nick had wiped himself down and thrown on some sweats. 

They spent much of the day just relaxing. Charlie read a lot, Nick listened to music. He FaceTimed with Sarah before she headed out for her wild New Year’s Eve party at her friend Mary’s place. Nick had to fake talking about a few days’ worth of team practices, but Sarah was delighted when she found out Charlie was there and demanded to talk to him as well. She lamented that Charlie must not have anything to do with Nick so busy at practice, but Charlie reassured he’d found ways to entertain himself. Fortunately Nick was off-camera since his ears burned red; he didn’t know how Charlie kept such a great poker face.

New Year’s Eve was going to be a domestic little affair; Charlie and Nick agreed that NYE out sucked big ones — insane crowds, usurious drink prices, and uncomfortable formalwear.

It went unspoken that if they stayed home they could also kiss at midnight.

Nick had splurged on some fillet steak, which he served along with potatoes, green beans and a nice crusty bread he’d started the previous day. It was a simple meal, but elegantly done, and along with the bottle of red they drank it was a grand time for both men. 

Later that evening, they sat on the sofa, Charlie’s legs thrown across Nick’s lap, eating profiteroles and watching the BBC countdown.

The talk really couldn’t wait any longer. Nick didn’t want to start the new year not knowing what they were doing together. Some certainty — in whatever form was comfortable for Charlie — was what he craved.

“Hey, um, Char.”

Charlie glanced over at Nick quickly before looking back at the telly, but then he seemed to cotton on to Nick’s tone and turned back.

“Yeah?”

Nick swallowed, though he seemed to have lost all his saliva.

“Could we… talk about what this is? What we are?”

“Yeah. Of course, yeah.” Charlie reached over and grabbed the remote, turning off the television and giving Nick his full attention.

The silence really was deafening. Nick had been thinking about this ever since they had left Sarah’s, but now that he’d finally managed to bring the topic up, his brain was completely blank.

“I, um… just wanted to check in. You know. And see what you’re thinking. About us. If — if there is an us. I mean, if you want an us. I want an us. But not if you don’t want an us. Fuck.”

Nick felt like he was yammering incoherently, but Charlie grinned sappily.

“I get it,” he replied. “It’s been a weird week. And few months. Really, it’s been weird ever since we met, hasn’t it?”

Nick frowned. “Did you, erm, not like the last week?” They’d spent so much time together recently, perhaps that had finally pushed Charlie to the point of being bored of Nick. “Weird week” didn’t sound like a good thing. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Charlie asked. “First, a family Christmas that doesn’t involve being called a failure and a disappointment. And with your lovely mum and amazing dogs and oh — that Yorkshire pudding, I still dream about it.”

Okay… this wasn’t sounding like the warm up to the “it’s you, not me” speech he’d gotten before.

“And then since we came back… holy moly, I’ve never been this sexually sated in my life, Nick. I mean, kudos.”

Nick huffed, grinning. 

“So… does that mean you want to keep doing this?”

Charlie scrunched up his face. “Uh, yeah? Why, do y— do you not want to?”

Nick’s eyes widened. “No! No, no! I do want to. I just… wanted to see if you did, too.”

“Was me straddling you on your mother’s couch and telling you it’s time for us to cut the crap not clear enough that I like you?”

Nick reared his head backward in surprise. Obviously, he knew Charlie was attracted to him physically, but that he liked him — Nick hadn’t dared to hope. Why would he, really? What was there to Nick other than his body? 

“You like me?” he asked.

“Wasn’t that obvious?” Charlie replied. 

Nick lightly shook his head, confusion splashed across his face. 

“Do you like me?” Charlie demanded.

“Yes, obviously!” Nick replied immediately, without thinking. Phew. Thankfully he didn’t express the full depth of his feeling, that surely would have driven Charlie away.

“I can’t believe we’re like this,” Charlie said, falling sideways into the sofa cushion and laughing. Nick ran his hands gently up and down the joggers Charlie wore over his legs. 

“So we’re exclusive?” Nick asked.

Charlie nodded. “Like I said, there hadn’t been anyone but Ben in a long time and… that’s been over since we first hooked up.”

“Same,” Nick replied. “I mean, not same obviously, but yeah. There’s no one else.”

Charlie hummed.

“So then are we… together?” he asked tentatively.

Nick filled his lungs. “I’d like to be, yeah.”

“Good,” Charlie grinned. “Me too.”

Nick tried to hide the smile from his lips, unsuccessfully.

“What about… I mean, do you want to — erm, never mind.”

“Nick… go on, say it. I think I know what it is.”

Nick looked up at Charlie. Perfect Charlie. He loved his hair, and his eyes, and — 

How had he ever been so wrong about this beautiful, funny, kind, generous man? It had been unfathomable to him that there was any universe where Nick Nelson would want to have anything to do with Charlie Spring. Now he wondered quite the opposite — if there was any universe out there where he didn't fall for Charlie. 

“Do you. Ahem. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Nick blurted out after a moment of hesitancy.

Charlie moved to straddle Nick, making him think of that night a week ago in his mother’s house. As his hands found their way to Charlie’s hips, the curly-haired man looked down at Nick, blue eyes meeting brown.

“Yes, I do.”

Nick sucked in a breath.

“Never had a boyfriend before,” he smiled nervously.

“And I’ve never had a good boyfriend before,” Charlie replied. 

He bent down and placed his lips gently on Nick’s. Am I a good boyfriend, then, Nick wondered as they snogged. 

Charlie snaked his arms around Nick’s shoulders, slotting them together more closely. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when he ground his hips against Nick that he realised he was rock hard — and so was Charlie.

“Can I take my boyfriend to bed?” Nick asked.

Charlie looked down at him with dark eyes. “Yes, please.”

Nick wrapped his arms around Charlie and summoned all his inner core strength to stand without letting go of Charlie. Figuring out what was happening, Charlie yelped locked his arms around Nick’s neck and his legs around his shoulders, like a big koala.

“Holy crap,” he said when Nick was standing fully upright. “I didn’t know you could do that!” 

Nick smirked and looked him in the eye. “Now I’ll show you what else I can do,” he murmured. Charlie actually shivered a little in anticipation. He carried Charlie through to his bedroom, tossing him on the bed like it was nothing and hopping up after him, a tiger on top of his prey. Charlie giggled as they bounced on the mattress, and then Nick relieved him of his shirt and got to work praising his beautiful body. 

Nick wanted nothing more than to latch onto Charlie’s neck and leave a hickey the size of a pancake, but he was mindful of their no-visible-marks rule — especially now that they were officially together — and so he dove lower and spent time leaving a series of them across Charlie’ chest.

“What are you doing down there?” Charlie asked mirthfully.

Nick lifted his head. “Just marking what’s mine.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck. Continue.”

Nick felt a truly possessive urge flow through him. Nothing irrational — he just wanted Charlie, and wanted to be sure Charlie knew that. And finally, he was in a place where he could express that without fear of Charlie’s reaction. 

Having licked his way down Charlie’s front, Nick unzipped his trousers and yanked them down past his hips to reveal his engorged cock. Nick took it on his tongue and sucked Charlie off for a while, enjoying the power he felt as Charlie squirmed under him in pleasure. 

Suddenly, Nick scooted back and grabbed Charlie by the legs. His biceps bulged as he flipped Charlie over without warning, causing the man to shout and then giggle. Nick finished taking his trousers off, tossing them behind him and leaving Charlie completely nude and prone on his bed.

Charlie’s arse was magnificent. Taut, rounded, the perfect smattering of dark hair, globes big enough to admire and play with but not so large as to prevent Nick from getting as deep as possible. Absolutely stunning. 

They should put this in the Louvre, Nick thought as he dove in face first. No, scratch that; this is just for me.

Charlie’s rosebud bloomed under Nick’s tongue as he lapped away at the rim, which somehow was also pretty. Nick truly didn’t understand how Charlie didn’t always see his own beauty. It was all Nick could see now, and he wished he never had to look away.

Twenty minutes, two hours, Nick honestly wasn’t sure how long he’d been eating Charlie out when he felt a tap on his head.

“Nick,” Charlie called out. His voice sounded wrecked. “Nick, please, please fuck me already.”

He suddenly became aware of the length of pipe still caught up in his joggers, which now had a sizable wet patch on the front. God knows how long he would have gone on tonguing Charlie if he hadn’t stopped him. But thank fuck he did.

Nick stood and shucked his clothes before stepping over to the bedside table and getting out the necessary supplies. Meanwhile, Charlie lifted himself onto all fours, presenting the perfect target for Nick. He tore his eyes away from Charlie’s bottom to admire the swollen cock and balls that hung heavy between Charlie’s legs. Someday… someday soon Nick was going to be ready for that. 

But for tonight, he knew exactly what to do. Nick positioned himself behind Charlie and ran his hands soothingly over his hips and lower back while making contented sighs. Then he warmed some lube on his fingers and got to work.

Charlie seemed to be doing what he could on his end to speed up the preparation process, egging Nick forward until he had three fingers plunging in and out and his prostate was well stimulated.

“I’m ready,” Charlie called out. Nick huffed; he was so, so ready, too.

He pulled out, wiping his fingers on a towel he’d brought out. He had Charlie open the condom — his fingers were still too slick — and rolled it down his length before he grabbed Charlie around the waist and once again flipped him over onto his back.

“Oh my god, you brute!” Charlie cried out as he bounced on the mattress.

Nick leaned all the way over until he was right up in Charlie’s face, breathing in his air. “Please. You love it.”

After a kiss, Nick leaned back and placed his hands under Charlie’s knees and pulled until his boyfriend was bent in half, his quivering red hole exposed to the air. He guided his head to the entrance and breached it, pushing forward slowly until he was completely sheathed inside Charlie. Nick bent his torso down to kiss Charlie while he adjusted, and then slowly began thrusting, in and out, in and out. 

They’d fucked many times, in many ways, and it was often fast-paced and passionate and electric.

This was still passionate, but it was a slower, deeper sensation — not just physically, but emotionally. The animalism that had so often dominated their sex was dormant tonight. Instead, it felt like coming home to a warm bath, familiar and comforting and just absolutely the perfect salve. 

They kissed a little, but most of the time they just hung in each other’s space, maybe pressed their foreheads together. Hot breath swirled between them, moist eddies swirling through the air as two became one.

Eventually, Nick let Charlie’s legs drop, and he lazily wrapped them around his hips as Nick kept fucking into him. Charlie reached up and gently pushed the hanging fringe of Nick’s hair back into place. Nick in turn fixed an errant curl before running one thumb over the cheek just under Charlie’s eye.

Nick’s orgasms usually came up on him quickly, but this one burned slowly, a match flame that would smoulder in the corner before spreading through the rest of the room. He saw it coming a mile away, and did nothing to stop it, just waiting as an electric charge built up in every corner of his body.

“Charlie, I’m close,” Nick murmured. His voice slightly strained from the long-term effort of holding himself upright on his arms, but it wasn’t totally wrecked like it so often was during sex. Instead, he sounded downright… tender. 

“Oh, thank god,” Charlie whispered back. “I’ve been holding it back for, like, five minutes.”

Nick smiled and leaned down to kiss Charlie. As he did so, he snaked one hand between them and grabbed his leaking cock, giving the head an expert tug. Just twenty seconds of that had Charlie shouting into Nick’s mouth as he crested and sprayed all over his belly. 

Even if Charlie’s rim hadn’t clamped down around him as he convulsed, Nick would have followed right behind. He could no more stop his orgasm than he could hold back the ocean, and it felt just as unexpectedly powerful as the tides, crashing through his groin, his torso, his legs and arms without stopping. Nick was left gasping tawdrily, his forehead pressed against Charlie’s, flesh on flesh on flesh. 

The two men recovered enough to look each other in the eye and laugh. Nick darted his head down and kissed Charlie until they heard loud popping noises. Turning their heads, out Nick’s window they could just see some fireworks in the distance — the city’s New Year’s celebration. They must have climaxed right before midnight. This was driven home when some neighbour started playing Auld Lang Syne, the tune muffled through the walls but still recognizable.

Charlie chuckled. “Starting out the new year right — freshly fucked and with Nick Nelson still inside me.”

Nick scoffed cheerfully. 

“Careful or that will become a tradition.”

Charlie shrugged. “There are worse traditions.”

Nick rolled his eyes and pulled out, ignoring Charlie’s sighs. He quickly cleaned himself up and brought a wet, warm washcloth to clean off Charlie. They each gave big yawns — whatever happened to young people partying the night away? So Nick pulled the sheets over them and they settled down for the night, Charlie’s back pressed against Nick’s front, one arm tucked around his chest.

As he drifted off, one word kept running through Nick’s mind. 

Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to isto4u and everyone who has to clean sex toys when they’d rather be snoozing post coitus.

Chapter 18

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: It was 6 percent talking, 94 percent fucking.

This time: Sai and Imogen receive some news. Tara and Nick update each other. And Nick is finally ready. I think you know what for.

Notes:

Thank you, KitSaidOui. I cannot stress enough how grateful I am for your beta efforts.

Nick Nelson had butterflies in his stomach. He was far too nervous for what was about to happen. And he felt ridiculous for being anxious.

After a couple more days in total isolation, soaking in their newfound boyfriendship, Nick and Charlie were awaiting the imminent return of Sai and Imogen. The two of them had been trying to hook Nick up with Charlie practically since the beginning. They loved and supported Nick. So why was he so nervous? 

He and Charlie had discussed how to tell Sai and Imogen. There was the classic “sit down, we have something to say” manoeuvre. There was the big fancy dinner party reveal. They could pretend to be having loud sex when Imogen and Sai got home and get “caught.” (That one had led to actual sex when they were “practising” their sex noises, which did confirm Nick and Charlie could outperform Meg Ryan but also confirmed they probably couldn’t stop themselves from having real sex when the time came.)

So they settled on just being together, and letting it become clear organically. 

Nick had been jittery all day, and especially since Sai and Imogen had texted they were at the train station and would be home soon. They were going to flip, he knew it, and yet an icy grip had settled around his heart for the last while.

“Are you okay, Nick?” 

Charlie sat beside him on the sofa, squeezing one hand. Nick had been staring at Sky Sports on the muted television without processing anything, but Charlie’s touch broke his long stare.

“Hmm? Yes,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant. 

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Charlie’s warm eyes stared him down. Had he always seen perfectly inside Nick’s mind?

“Erm. Yeah.”

Charlie hummed and leaned back. “I feel that a little, too.”

Surprised, Nick turned and looked Charlie up and down. “You’re nervous? But you’re so confident.”

He laughed. “It’s really sweet that you think that, but… I’m actually kind of the opposite.”

Nick shook his head. It didn’t make any sense. Just look at everything Charlie had been through. Being outed, which bloody terrified Nick, and not just for reasons related to his rugby career. Being bullied, which Nick was starting to realise was something that had happened to him — just more at home than in the locker room. Charlie had pursued his own course of study at university despite a domineering mother pushing him for something he didn’t want. And he had survived working for his gross ex. Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone stronger or braver than Charlie Spring.

Before he could articulate any of that, Charlie spoke again.

“I’ll tell you a secret about coming out, whether as bisexual or a couple or whatever. Once you do it a few times, it doesn’t get easier, per se, but you get better at it. Like a guitarist developing calluses. And the good news is, this is guaranteed to go well because Sai and Imogen are gaga about you.”

Nick stuffed down his prior train of thought.

“They’re gaga about you, too,” he said.

Charlie frowned. “Erm. I think they like me, yeah. But like. You’re special to them. They look out for you. I wish I had friends like that. Tao’s a nice guy, but he’s off in his own world a lot of the time.”

“First,” Nick said, taking Charlie hands in between his own. “By now, Sai and Imogen are as much your friends as they are mine. And second, if you don’t think they’re as crazy about you as they are about me — more so, really — you’re delusional.”

“Perhaps I am a little delulu,” Charlie retorted. “I still can’t believe we’re, like, properly together now.”

“Started from the bottom and now we’re here,” Nick replied, kissing Charlie.

They didn’t get very far before Charlie was pulling back.

“That’s very nice but I’d like to not be erect when they arrive, thank you,” he said, standing up and running his hands down his trouser legs. “How about a spot of tea?”

“Ta.”

Charlie busied himself in the kitchen putting the electric kettle on. Nick twisted on the sofa, leaning his side against the back so he could watch his boyfriend — the word still left a sharp, giddy flavour on his tongue, like the bursts of adrenaline he sometimes felt on the pitch — putter around the kitchen.

He snapped his head toward the front door, though, when it opened to reveal Sai hauling Imogen’s comically huge suitcase behind him, followed by Imogen herself. 

“Hi Nick, I’m so happy to see you, I gotta pee sorry!” Imogen called out as she awkwardly danced over to Sai’s bathroom, which also opened out into the main area for guests. 

“Oi, happy new year, mate,” Sai called out as he lugged Imogen’s big suitcase through to his bedroom. 

With their busy entrances, neither of them seem to have noticed Charlie in the kitchen. Nick shot him an amused look, but it was quickly overtaken by his nerves again. Power through, power through. Nick tried to tap into Charlie's strength. He sort of appreciated that they’d locked in just acting like a couple — honestly, the fact that Charlie was even here at all would be a huge flag to Sai and Imogen. 

Clear eyes, full heart. Can't lose.

Nick groaned internally at the stupid Friday Night Lights reference, even if it helped bolster him.

A flush, then sounds of a sink running and Nick heard Imogen emerge into Sai’s bedroom before they both stepped out into the living room. From where they were standing, they couldn’t see Charlie in the kitchen. A quick glance told Nick that he’d finished making the tea but was apparently waiting for the optimal time to make his presence known. Little shit.

“Phew! You know how I hate to pee on trains,” Imogen said.

“I told you not to get the Big Gulp, babe,” Sai chided, casually wrapping one arm around Imogen’s waist.

Imogen ignored him. “So Nicky—” she started, straightening a loose strand of hair.

“Don’t call me that,” Nick said reflexively.

Imogen, as usual, ignored him. “Get anything good for Christmas?”

Nick shot a glance at Charlie.

“You could say that.”

Charlie took that as his cue to step out into the living area.

“Nick, got your tea,” he said. “Oh, hey guys, welcome back.”

Imogen and Sai both jumped. They looked at one another bewildered before watching Charlie carry two mugs over, handing one to Nick before sitting down beside him. 

“Charlie! Oh my gosh, I didn’t know Imogen told you when we were getting back,” Sai said. “Did you… come to welcome us?”

Nick struggled to stop his lips from curling as Charlie pretended to consider what Sai said. “Oh, no, not specifically, I was here already anyway.”

“Oh.” Imogen and Sai stood awkwardly.

Surprisingly, after all that hemming and hawing all day, Nick just wanted his friends to fucking know already. He needed to share. He almost just blurted it out, but at the last second decided he was only ever going to get one shot at this so he might as well make it count.

He set the tea down on the table and leaned back, wrapping one arm around Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie wiggled with delight a bit before settling back and sipping from his mug.

“So uh… what were you guys doing, then?” Imogen asked uncertainly. “Before we got here?”

Okay, enough was enough.

“Mmm, mostly this,” Nick said.

He reached over and placed one hand on Charlie’s chin, turning his head until they could lean in and press their lips together. They kissed a few times, the kind where you mash around a bit, just for show, before they pulled back and looked at the other two.

Imogen’s jaw had dropped completely and she had her arms held out in front of her with open hands as she danced back and forth. Sai was grinning wickedly and just nodding at them.

“Oh my god!” Imogen shouted, running over and tackling the two of them back into the sofa. “Oh my god ohmygodohmygod!” Charlie very nearly spilled his tea, which Sai neatly stepped over and took from him, setting it on the nearby table, out of harm’s way.

“I can’t believe it, this is amazing!” Imogen said, plopping down on the other side of Nick.

“So… are you guys surprised?” Nick asked sarcastically.

“Only that you told us now,” Sai said. “I bet Immy a hundred quid you’d keep stringing us along until the season was over.” 

Nick squawked. “You were betting on us!?” 

“Wait,” Charlie interrupted. “Keep stringing you along? You… knew?”

“Oh, yeah. For ages,” Sai replied calmly.

At that, Nick’s jaw did drop. He knew Sai and Imogen had been trying to steer them together for ages. And that Sai had obvious suspicions — as when he asked Nick a while back if he and Charlie were fucking. 

But to hear that they did indeed know… 

“Oh come off it, lads, you were terribly unsubtle,” Imogen tutted.

“Oh my god,” Charlie replied, laughing. “How long?”

“Mmm… let’s see,” Imogen said, raising her eyes to the ceiling as she thought. “I got suspicious after that whole dog shelter thing, because you used to rant constantly about Charlie and suddenly it was all quiet.”

“That’s all it took?” Nick asked, incredulously. 

Sai spoke up. “No, we didn’t really know until —” He cut himself off.

“What?” Charlie asked.

Sai smiled evilly. “Until that time you stayed over after movie night, Charlie.”

Imogen laughed and clapped.

“Fuck! How did you —”

“Nick, come on mate, Charlie’s clothes were sitting in the dryer the next morning,” Sai replied, rolling his eyes. “What did you do, let him go outside in the rain before you made your move? Also I saw two phones in your bedroom that morning.”

“You’ve known for that long?” Nick asked incredulously. “Oh, Jesus.”

“So that was moaning I heard, hot damn, Nicholas!” Imogen said, smacking him on the arm a little harder than was strictly necessary. 

“Oh, oh, I’ve been wondering about something ever since then,” Sai said. “Where the hell was Charlie hiding when I walked in? It couldn’t have been under the sheets — I looked carefully after I noticed two phones on the bedside tables. And you weren’t in the closet, I would have seen you. Were you, like, crouched on the far side of the bed or something?”

Nick’s face burned as he remembered that day, and he could see maroon spreading up and down Charlie's neck and ears as well. 

He vowed to use his powers of assholery for good — which in this case meant having some fun at Sai and Imogen’s expense.

“Actually, he was in the shower,” Nick said. “With me.”

Sai’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Nick glanced over and saw Imogen’s mouth wide open.

“Oh my god, you guys were having shower sex when I walked in?” Sai spat out, his voice a mixture of shock and excitement.

“No! Good lord, no!” Nick replied. “We’d just finished, actually.”

Imogen let out a high-pitched screech and threw herself on Nick, enveloping him in a hug and wriggling around.

“Oh god, I propositioned you that morning, didn’t I?” Sai said, clearly reliving those memories.

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, that was really fucking funny. For what it’s worth, I told him to go for it.”

Imogen stopped screaming and sat back.

“Oh my god, wait — what about the four of us?”

Nick scowled and shrugged her off him.

“No!”

She sat back with her legs curled under her and pouted a bit.

“Well, what if we just watched you and Charlie? No touching?”

“Imogen,” Nick growled.

“Okay, what if only I watched—”

“Aaaand we’re done with that conversation,” Charlie said, standing up. “Would anyone else like a drink? An alcoholic drink?”

“Yessss!” Imogen yelped. “We need to toast you two! And then I need to know every fucking detail.”

“Yeah, because I’m 99 percent sure you lied to me that time I asked if you were doing Charlie,” Sai said.

“I didn’t lie!” Nick scoffed as Charlie watched with raised eyebrows. “You asked if we were sleeping together. And at that point… we hadn’t spent the night.”

It was Sai’s turn to scoff. “Good lord, the tightest of technicalities! Come on, Nick!”

“Was this in your pre-aftercare era?” Charlie called out from the kitchen.

As Imogen and Sai laughed maniacally, Charlie shot Nick a smirk. So it was going to be like that.

Meh. Nick could live with it.

 

***

 

Nick munched on a full English brekkie as he listened to Tara discuss several recent conversations with scouts from other teams. It was still too early to be signing deals, but interest seemed to be moving in the right direction.

“So, Nick, the next couple months are going to be crucial until the bidding period starts and you can start making those dolla dolla bills, y’all,” Tara said. She and Darcy put down their forks and started dancing in their seats. Nick gave them a blank look until Darcy mimed “making it rain” on Tara and he finally rolled his eyes before popping a mushroom in his mouth.

“But seriously, though,” Tara said, settling back down. “It’s game time, Nick. I need you at your best on and off the field.” 

“The good news is, you’re on fire on the field,” Darcy chimed in. “You’re getting some fantastic sports press, and that bit last week where Coach Singh singled you out for praise — music to our ears, Nick.”

He smiled and blushed, staring at his plate. 

Things had been going well as autumn turned into winter, and the past few weeks after the holidays had only solidified how things were truly on the up and up. Since the new year, they were 4-1 in matches, only losing on the road against the Golden Lion Tamarins. It was their first away match since he and Charlie had properly gotten together, and Nick felt a knot in his stomach all three days they were out of town.

Rookies had to share hotel rooms for away games, and Sai commented that Nick had never before tossed and turned like that in the night. Nick played it off as fretting about the Tamarins’ new flanker, but he was pretty sure Sai guessed the real reason and had the tact to play along.

It felt silly. It’s not like he and Charlie even spent every night together, anyway. Now that they were out to Sai and Imogen, sometimes they stayed over at Nick’s and sometimes at Charlie’s, but around half the time they retreated to their own spaces, wary of being together too much so early on. 

“So how are things with Charlie, then?”

Nick was pulled out of his mind and back into his brunch with Tara and Darcy.

“Hm?”

“Charlie? Your public image work? What’s the latest on that?”

Oh, yeah. Oops.

“It’s good, actually,” he replied. “Um, we’ve settled on focusing on working with kids, so I’m connecting with youth rugby groups, planning some school visits, that sort of thing. Also Charlie just mentioned yesterday that the animal shelter actually wants me back, if you can believe it. It was definitely a disaster, but apparently photos of me with some dogs and a cat popped off on their social media. So we’ll probably set something else up — no reporters, no gates.”

“You and Charlie getting along well, then?” Tara asked, popping a bite of waffle into her mouth.

“Uh… yeah.”

Nick was suddenly overcome with an urge to tell them. It was a strange feeling — the fact that he’s bisexual is always something he’s kept so guarded. Only his mother and Sai and Imogen know. Well, and Charlie, of course. Nick was shocked he wanted to expand the inner circle like that, even if it was for two very good friends. They’re lesbians, for goodness sake, if anyone was going to welcome him onto the rainbow with open arms it would be them.

Of course, they weren’t just his friends. They were his agents. What if they have professional problems with it? After all, they’re just as aware as Nick of how rare it is to be a queer pro rugby player, and they just finished talking about how the next few months needed to go smoothly before contract negotiations. There was also the potential issue of the fact that Charlie kind of sort of worked for Nick. An ethical scandal like that would surely be the cherry on top of the turd pile if this all went south.

But this was just too good. Charlie was just too good. And frankly he deserved better from Nick.

Fuck it.

“Actually, well… we’re sort of going out.”

The two women lit up.

“Are you?” Tara asked excitedly. 

It was only by the grace of the giant bite of burger Darcy had just taken that she wasn’t screeching loudly in the middle of the restaurant.

“Um, yeah,” Nick said. “Also, um” — he lowered his voice even further than he already had — “I’m bi.”

Tara emitted a relatively quiet but high-pitched tone while Darcy started chewing as fast as she could on the huge bite of burger in her mouth before swallowing — possibly risking asphyxiation, as Nick watched with a combination of awe and disgust.

“Since when?” Darcy demanded, her voice hoarse.

“Erm… since I watched Titanic in sixth form and couldn’t decide who was prettier?” Nick asked, befuddled.

“No, dingus,” Tara replied. “Since when are you and Charlie — together? Dating? Boyfriends?”

At least Tara had the good sense to keep her voice low.

“Erm, well, we just made it official over the holidays,” Nick replied.

“So this is a super new development.”

“Erm…”

“Oh my god, Nick, come on.”

He huffed. “It’s just… complicated! We’d been hooking up for a while, like a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, but… it became clear we both wanted more. I know, I know this is insane and stupid and you’re gonna tell me to dump him —”

“What? No!” Darcy and Tara exclaimed together.

Nick looked at them pointedly. “You think something like this coming out would get me a better contract this spring?”

The two women deflated a bit.

“Oh yeah,” Darcy muttered.

“Sorry,” Tara added. “I got so caught up in my queer joy that for a moment I forgot this is a sport where homophobia exists.” 

Nick had never forgotten. He could live in bliss when it was just him and Charlie, but every time his boyfriend crossed his thoughts when he was at practice or in the locker room or on the bus with the lads, he just looked around at Harry’s sneering face and Kieran’s stupid gay jokes and the dozen other oafs on the team and his face burned. He knew there were good men on the Blackbirds — Sai, obviously, and Nick was reasonably confident that Otis and Christian and some others would have his back. But Nick wasn’t sure that was enough.

“Do you want to be out?” Darcy asked.

Nick looked down at his plate. “I don’t know. It never — it’s never been an issue before. But now, with Charlie… I don’t know.” He took in a shaky breath. “I mean, certainly not before my rookie period ends, that would be insane. And… and this thing with Charlie is so new… what if he ends up hating me and leaving?”

“Yeah, that reminds me,” Tara said, sipping her mimosa. “Didn’t you two hate each other? Like, epic levels of loathing? How did that turn into… this?”

Nick looked around. They’d discussed this enough for a public place.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “Oh, I know! You two should come ’round, we’ll make dinner!”

Nick sighed. “And you’ll spend three hours interrogating us about our relationship, won’t you.”

“Four tops!” Darcy replied with a grin.

 

***

 

That night, Nick had taken a nice, long shower and was dressed comfortably in leisurewear, studying that week’s playbook (mauve this time) on the sofa when his quiet productivity was interrupted by unmistakable noises of passion from Sai’s room. He was not unused to this, and pulled out his noise-cancelling headphones and got back to work. 

He was able to focus on memorising codes for a good 15 minutes before he felt a small tremor, like something large had fallen nearby. Whipping the headphones off and standing in readiness, Nick worried Sai or Imogen might be hurt. But the screams he heard coming from their room were not those of pain. Nick was about to put his headphones back on and maybe retreat to his room when he heard voices instead of just grunts and yelps.

“Yeah, take it! You take it and you like it!” 

Imogen?! 

“Fucking give it to me, Immy, fuck me harder!” 

Sai?!?!

Nick’s jaw hit the floor. They’d finally fucking done it. Imogen had joked for a long time about wanting to peg Sai, and he always went along with the laugh while indicating he wasn’t really interested in her penetrating him with a strap-on. But Imogen was like water — give her enough time and she’ll wear down the strongest rock.

Of course, Nick couldn’t be 100 percent sure that’s what was going on behind Sai’s door, but this was unusually loud roughhousing for his friends, and the pillow talk — or wherever their heads were at the moment — certainly made it sound like Sai had answered the caller at the back door.

Nick amusedly sat back down, put on his headphones and turned the volume up louder.

Half an hour later, Nick looked up when Sai’s door swung open, revealing the man himself, wearing just his boxers and a robe left hanging open. Not noticing Nick on the sofa, Sai wobbled slightly as he took his first steps, then limped — limped! — the rest of the way over to their fridge, pulled out a bottle of coconut water and began chugging. Now Nick was almost positive that an historic event had just gone down. He was practically giddy.

“So. Imogen finally came knock knock knocking on heaven’s door,” Nick said smugly after removing his headphones.

Sai sputtered, coconut water spraying all over himself, the counter and some of the floor.

He looked at the mess bewilderedly, then at Nick sheepishly. But then his eyes changed, and he straightened up, puffing out his chest as he brought the bottle to his lips again and finished off the drink. He threw it in the trash, then walked over to stand in front of Nick.

“You probably expect me to lie or something,” Sai said. “But I’m very comfortable in my sexuality, so, sure, I’ll tell you: My beautiful girlfriend just penetrated me with an eight-inch dildo, and I loved eeeeeeevery second of it.” He took in a deep breath. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I can’t stand upright much longer.”

Sai turned and hobbled toward his door.

Nick was slack-jawed at Sai’s sass, but he managed to pull himself together enough to inquire.

“Eight inches?"

Sai turned in his doorway and waggled his eyebrows at Nick. “You jealous?” he asked before slamming his door shut.

Fuck. Nick was kind of jealous. He’d been increasingly curious about bottoming. Ever since Charlie had fingered him in the shower and later eaten him out, Nick knew that there was an entirely new world of sex for them to explore. Still, he was nervous. Charlie was… a lot. Realistically, Nick knew, he knew, Charlie would do it right and take his time and make Nick feel good. But the thought of Charlie’s huge cock lodged inside him — Nick gulped in fear. 

But then, if Sai could do it… and could do it with eight inches, hot damn.

Fortunately, Nick knew where he could find something that beat eight inches. And what better time to explore than right now, before this tiny bit of temporary bravado wore off?

He pulled out his phone and navigated to his text chain with Charlie.

[Nick Nelson, 23:04]: You up?

[Nick Nelson, 23:05]: Charlie

[Nick Nelson, 23:06]: ?

[Nick Nelson, 23:06]: Charlie

[Nick Nelson, 23:06]: Charlie

[Nick Nelson, 23:07]: CHARLIE

[Nick Nelson, 23:07]: CHARLIE

[Charlie Spring, 23:08]: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT

[Nick Nelson, 23:08]: I’m coming over

[Charlie Spring, 23:08]: no

[Charlie Spring, 23:08]: i’m asleep

[Nick Nelson, 23:09]: It’s not even midnight

[Charlie Spring, 23:09]: have work at 6

[Nick Nelson, 23:09]: Lame

[Charlie Spring, 23:09]: we don’t all have cushy sports gigs Nicholas

[Nick Nelson, 23:10]: Don’t care, coming over

[Charlie Spring, 23:11]: NO. sleep > being fucked right now

[Nick Nelson, 23:11]: Where does sleep rank compared to fucking me?

[Charlie Spring, 23:11]: …

[Charlie Spring, 23:11]: i’m listening

[Nick Nelson, 23:12]: I’m power walking

Ten minutes later, Nick was banging on Charlie’s door while trying desperately to catch his breath.

It cracked open, and he was met with a bloodshot eye squinting hard.

“Are you for real about this?”

Nick looked down at his shoes, gulping nervously, before looking back up at Charlie.

“Yeah.”

A pause as the eye took him in.

“Fuck. Fine.”

The door swung open, revealing Charlie in some honest-to-god pyjamas with little cartoon fruits all over it, bananas, peaches, cherries, apples, oranges. Charlie had a pink blanket draped around his shoulders, and his hair was lopsided, likely from having laid on a pillow for a little while already.

Their dynamic had changed. This wasn’t the more tender stuff they’d been doing for the past month. The late-night booty call, Nick’s pushiness — now Charlie’s grumpy reticence. Somehow it had all cooked together to call up the old way they used to flirt and fuck.

Nick decided to test its limits. He did really like all the boyfriend sex they’d been having. But he’d be lying if he said he didn't miss some of the aggressive, toss-me-around, use me and abuse me fucking from their hookup days.

“So… fruity jammies?” Nick said as he made his way into Charlie’s bedroom. “You want people in your dreams to know you’re gay?”

“Get out,” Charlie said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

“Wait, wait — hold on, I was just teasing,” Nick said, holding out his hands in a gesture of apology.

Charlie sighed dramatically, but removed his hand from the knob, tucking it back under the blanket around his shoulders. “Nick, why are you here?” he moaned, his voice cracking slightly with sleep.

Nick smirked as he sat on the edge of Charlie’s bed, watching the shorter man hover. “I think I made it clear why I’m here.”

“I meant, why are you showing up in the middle of the night asking me to fuck you for the first time?”

Nick huffed. “Because of Sai.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot above his curly hairline.

“Not like that!” Nick yelped. “It’s just — wait, I’m not sure I should tell you this.”

“If it’s about their sex life, Imogen’s gonna tell me about it in the morning,” Charlie said, uncrossing his arms. “She always tells me what they did the night before. Haven’t figured out how to make her stop.”

“If you ever figure it out, let me know, please.”

“I still don’t understand how whatever they did led to you deciding it’s time to lose your butt virginity.”

Nick was taken aback. “My butt virginity ?”

“I’m sorry, your highness, would you prefer something more flowery?” Charlie said, putting on airs and doing a fake little bow with a flourish of his hand. “Your innocence, perchance? Your derrière-hood?”

Nick pinked at the teasing, even as he felt a yearn-driven twitching in his bottom, and oh, that was a new sensation. 

“Sai got pegged,” he finally spat out. “Imogen gave him the old what-for. Eight inches, Sai told me proudly afterward.”

Charlie slapped one hand onto his forehead and crooked the other on his hip. “Okay. That’s a lot to take in right there. Gonna need a minute on that one.”

He actually turned and stared at the wall for a minute. Nick sat there, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Ohhhhh no,” Charlie said, pivoting around and throwing his arms out in protest, causing the pink blanket to drop. “You did not wake me up in the middle of the night when I have to open the cafe and start all this without finishing the job. Take. Your fucking. Trousers off.”

Nick sucked in a sharp breath. His dick, soft in his joggers, twitched and started blossoming as blood flowed south. He involuntarily licked his lips. Fuck, Nick wanted this. 

Not breaking eye contact with Charlie, Nick stood and stuck his thumbs into his waistband. Bending over, he pushed the grey cotton down until it was at his ankles. He stepped out of them, removing his shoes as he did so, leaving him in just a blue pair of boxer-briefs and a tight white t-shirt that left little to the imagination. He hadn’t exactly bothered getting dressed in anything presentable on his way out the door.

He stood there silently, like a soldier on review before his sergeant, as Charlie’s eyes raked up and down his body.

“Turn around,” Charlie said, and Nick pivoted on the ball of his foot until he was facing the bed — and his derrière was facing Charlie. 

“Shirt off,” Charlie said. Nick reached over his head and yanked the shirt off, weaving his torso slightly as the material clung to his muscled frame. He heard Charlie breath in sharply as he did so. Hook, line and sinker, Nick thought smugly.

“When did you last shower?” Charlie asked.

Oh, right. The unsexy part of gay sex. But wait!

“Actually, like an hour ago,” Nick said. 

“That should be fine,” Charlie said, almost clinically. How fast the sensuality could slip away. “Umm, one more thing. Do you actually want this? Like, I know I’m being bossy but — this is your will, right? And you’re not going to regret this in the morning and hate me for it?”

Nick pivoted around, revealing to Charlie his mostly hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants, and raised his right hand.

“I, Nicholas Luke Nelson, in full control of my faculties, do hereby solemnly swear that I want to get ploughed like a cornfield by your nine-inch cock until I come so hard I see stars, so help me God.”

“Cute,” Charlie said with an annoyed face, although Nick noticed a not insignificant amount of pink spreading across his cheeks. “You think that up all by yourself?”

“Go back to bossing me around already,” Nick said, looking away from Charlie and idly surveying the room as if he were distracted by something else in the room. As if.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Pants off, put this towel on the bed, roll over, legs spread a bit.”

“Yes, sir!” Nick yelped, shucking his boxer-briefs, flapping out the bath towel Charlie handed him and rolling over into position on top of it. Doing so meant his face was pressed into Charlie’s pillow. Nick inadvertently took a big sniff as he settled, his nose filled with the scents of almonds, strong and masculine, yet sweet and delicate too. He suddenly realised what he was doing, and even though the pillow’s owner was about to split him open like a log destined for the hearth, it felt strangely invasive.

He glanced over and saw that Charlie was thankfully too distracted to notice Nick’s little sniff session. Too distracted because he was busy stripping off his pyjamas, leaving him in just that yellow jockstrap.

The one from the sauna.

“Do you… sleep in that, too?” Nick asked.

“I thought you figured it out by now, Nick,” Charlie said, sliding off the jockstrap. “I like jocks.”

Charlie walked from the foot of the bed up to his bedside table, running one finger from the top of Nick’s cleft all the way up his spine. Nick shivered at the touch, suppressing the moan that fought to escape his throat. Best not to get wanton too early.

Charlie pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom and then settled in behind Nick, in between his legs. He leaned over top of Nick, settling his chest against Nick’s back. He could feel Charlie’s cock laying across his arse, like a hot dog on top of a bun.

“If it weren’t so late, I’d eat you out, Nick. Maybe for hours,” Charlie mumbled into his ear. “But I don’t have time for that tonight.” Goosebumps erupted along Nick’s forearms and a tingle ran down his shins. Charlie Fucking Spring was very, very good.

Charlie kissed his way down Nick’s shoulders and back before planting one last smooch on the small of his back. Then Charlie reared upright. Nick heard the snick of a bottlecap and the squelch of lube onto Charlie’s fingers. Despite his best efforts, he could feel himself puckering up back there as the anticipation sank in. Damn it! Nick so wanted to be good for Charlie, and his body was not cooperating.

It seemed Charlie could feel the tension.

“You all right, Nick?”

Nick lifted his face from where it was pressed against his forearms.

“Erm. Yeah.”

“If you change your mind, we can stop anytime, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Nick tried to breathe regularly, but his goddamn lungs wouldn’t cooperate. He felt like an anaconda was wrapped around him, like in those cheesy old horror movies his brother always picked to watch when they were kids. Constriction, on and on, until taking even shallow breaths was impossible.

He expected to feel Charlie pressing against his entrance, but Nick jumped a little when he felt Charlie’s hand gently pet the back of his thigh a few times.

“Nick, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Charlie asked quietly.

His heart was racing, but Nick managed to squeak out a response. “You’re the beautiful one.”

Charlie exhaled a little laugh. “That’s really sweet, but we’re talking about you right now, Nick.”

Nick tried to think. “Um, I don’t know.” People usually used other words for him — hot, fit. He could hear his voice quivering and silently cursed his treacherous throat. “Not really, I don’t think.”

Charlie tutted as he smoothly ran his palm across Nick’s back and down his other leg.

“Well, you are, you know. You’re so beautiful, Nick.” Charlie’s voice was deeper, lower, and it was surprisingly soothing, like a nice cuppa after a draining day. “You have beautiful eyes. They’re warm and inviting. I like how you squint a little when you’re reading something on your phone, and the look you make when dinner hits the table.

“I like your beautiful ears,” Charlie continued. Nick scrunched up his face, glad Charlie couldn’t see it. What on earth was there to like about his ears? They were fine, he guessed, but nothing like Charlie’s, whose ears so perfectly framed his sharp face. “I like how the tiny hairs on them light up in direct sunlight. I like how they flush red when you’re embarrassed — like right now.”

Nick couldn’t help but chuckle, and he heard Charlie join him.

“I like your beautiful hair,” Charlie continued. “I like how you fuss with it until it looks like surfers could hang ten. I like how it changes colour depending on the light — ginger, auburn, brown.” Nick admitted he had gotten many a hair compliment in his day, although personally he thought Charlie had him beat in that department.

“I like your beautiful lips,” Charlie said. At that, Nick scoffed outright. He’d always low-key disliked his unusual smiles; something about the facial muscles on his left side. 

“They’re lopsided,” he said, interrupting Charlie. 

“And they’re beautiful,” Charlie retorted. “They’re beautiful because of their asymmetry, not in spite of it, FYI.”

Lord, Charlie could be sappy.

Nick suddenly realised he was actually quite relaxed, Charlie’s mattress soft and warm beneath him. He was breathing normally — when had that happened? — and his muscles felt loose, like after a good stretch.

“Do you feel better now?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” Nick mumbled. “I do.”

“Good,” Charlie replied. He heard him squirt out more lube — it had probably dried up during Charlie’s little pep talk there. But Nick didn’t have the same clenching reaction this time. His heartbeat was a little elevated.

“We can stop anytime, okay?”

“Yeah. But… I think I’m ready.”

“That’s good.”

Charlie’s fingers plied slowly at Nick’s cheeks, pushing them apart gently until his fingertip reached Nick’s quivering hole. Charlie had fingered Nick a couple of times since the shower, so the next part was already settling into familiar, even comforting, territory. Tonight, despite his claim that he was in a hurry, Charlie leisurely circled the rim, the pad of his index finger bumbling over Nick's ridges over and over. 

Soon, the breach. One slicked finger pressed forward, one knuckle pushing past the rim, then the second, and before Nick knew it, Charlie was as deep as he could go. Nick focused on relaxing, and after a short while he wiggled his hips a little and mumbled, “Another.”

“Now who’s being bossy?” Charlie said as he pulled his index finger most of the way out of Nick before adding his middle finger. This time Nick could really feel the stretch, although it remained solidly this side of uncomfortable rather than painful. And Nick knew by now the discomfort went away after a minute. 

The scissoring made him groan into his arm, muffling the noise, though not enough to stop Charlie from the smirk that surely was plastered on his face. The little shit loved having that kind of power over Nick. Of course, things really got out of hand when Charlie curved his fingers, exploring a bit before hitting Nick’s prostate. A burst of energy poured forth, making his whole body shake and wiggle. 

“Good boy,” Charlie said, his voice silken. 

Nick hid his smile. 

Perhaps remembering how quickly Nick had climaxed from prostate stimulation in the shower, Charlie only brushed the bundle of nerves a couple more times before he withdrew his fingers and added a third. This was a true stretch, and Nick put all his willpower into letting Charlie in. That burn flared briefly before Nick felt better, and really got into how Charlie was fucking him with his fingers.

“That’s, uh, pretty much all I can do with my fingers,” Charlie said, for the first time sounding slightly coy. “I could maybe try a plug or a toy?”

Nick moaned. “Just get in me, Char.”

Charlie sighed. “Nick, my dick — and I’m not trying to brag — but my dick is a hell of a lot bigger than three fingers. Even without putting it all the way in, it’s going to be a lot.”

Nick shrugged. “Just go slow. And I can take all of you.”

“I like your bravado,” Charlie chuckled. “But no, you can’t. Certainly not this time. This is one of those times where being well endowed is a liability. Have you ever heard of the second ring?”

Nick shook his head.

“There’s your first ring, your arsehole, but then there’s sort of another one deeper inside you,” Charlie said, his fingers continuing to plumb Nick, and god, when had lecturer Charlie become such a turn-on? “It’s another muscle in the digestive tract. It takes a lot of training and work, on both our parts, to breach that. Although I hear it feels amazing for the bottom. So we could try one day, but not tonight.”

“You hear?” Nick asked. “Have you never done that to anyone before?”

A moment of silence. “Erm. Yeah. It turns out a lot of guys like a dick like mine aesthetically, but not in practice. So I haven’t, um. Topped much.”

Nick turned his head a little, enough to bring Charlie into his periphery.

“It’s mostly okay, really,” Charlie continued. “I like bottoming, it’s honestly what I’d prefer the bulk of the time.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Maybe, but…”

“Nick… let’s just see if you even like this, okay? One step at a time.”

Nick nodded. “Okay.”

Charlie withdrew his fingers — Nick just barely managed to hold back a whine — and wiped them clean on the towel. Nick heard him fumble a bit with the condom.

“Want me to do that?” he asked.

“Oh, er — yeah, thanks.”

Nick lifted one leg up and swung it around past Charlie before swinging around and sitting down. He took the condom packet and managed to rip it open despite the bits of residual lube. He pulled out the rubber ring, placed it on Charlie’s cock head, and began rolling it down gently. Charlie grunted happily as Nick’s hand glided down his shaft until the condom had reached near his root. Nick was impressed that the same condoms that fit him also worked for Charlie, although he figured he was a little thicker so it must work out.

The condom now on Charlie, Nick leaned up and pecked a kiss on his mouth.

“How do you want me?”

Charlie stared at him and blinked for a moment. 

“Um,” he finally said as he shook his head vigorously, dark curls bouncing to and fro. “On your knees, if you like? That’s one of the best ways to take a dick.”

“Hey, you’re the expert.” Nick hopped up and assumed the position. It felt so… lewd, on his hands and knees, stretched arse popping out, his turgid cock swinging heavy between his legs like a pendulum.

The mattress dipped a bit as Charlie positioned himself behind Nick, hands guiding his hips a little into place. The squick of more lube, and Charlie pushed it inside his hole, ensuring a smooth advance.

Nick felt Charlie’s head press up against his hole but not push in, the rubber-covered flesh circling his rim like a basketball around its hoop. Tiny sparkles pulsed into his body from the contact, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Nick was surprised to find that he didn’t just want, but felt a need for Charlie’s cock.

“Please, Char, stop teasing me,” he cried out, his voice warbling.

“Do you need it?” Charlie's voice was firm, commanding. Fuck, it turned Nick on.

“Yes, Charlie, I need your cock, please.” Dignity? She took a coffee break half an hour ago and never came back.

“Okay, Nick, you can have it.”

A push, some resistance, the stretch and the burn, and then with a sudden gasp of relief, Charlie’s mushroom head was through the gates. Nick dropped his head, breathing quickly but regularly. Charlie Spring was inside him. Charlie Spring and his absolutely massive cock were fucking Nick Nelson.

Someone mark the date and time.

“Oh, Nick,” Charlie groaned, and this time his voice didn’t sound so commanding. “You feel so tight, god, so good around my cock…”

He could feel one of Charlie’s hands on his hip shaking a little. Nick wondered how wrecked Charlie would feel when he was buried deep inside Nick — not just partway, like he was going to do tonight, but so deep their balls clacked together like those office toys with the hanging metal balls people put on their desks. Newton’s cradle, Nick’s brain somehow procured, and he was shocked he had any higher brain function whatsoever. 

That all went away a few moments later when Charlie eased forward a bit, only a fraction of an inch, but enough to have Nick sharply gasping. It did sort of hurt, but there was also so much pleasure there. Nick suddenly realised Charlie had been on this end for the dozens and dozens of times they’d fucked to date. Nick had always assumed it must feel good overall, but to get this kind of confirmation… holy shit.

Charlie proceeded like that — another tiny bit forward, then wait, rinse and repeat, in, hold, in hold, in, hold, until Nick had lost all sense of time. He could have sworn Charlie was getting close to bottoming out, even though he said he wasn’t.

“Did you change your mind?” Nick asked, gulping air. “Are you almost all the way in?”

A pause. “Nick, I — I’m maybe one-third of the way in.”

Holy motherfucking shit. One-third? When Nick thought he’d taken most of it? Charlie was being super patient and slow, but Nick started to wonder if he’d be able to feel his cockhead in his fucking throat if Charlie ever got the whole thing in. An image flashed in Nick’s mind, of an axe nearly chopping a log into two. That’s not gonna happen, he thought to himself. People take big dicks all the time and they’re not split like firewood, you’ll be fine.  

“Do you want me to stop here? Or pull out completely?” Charlie asked.

Nick thought it over genuinely for a moment, but he wanted to be brave.

“No,” he finally replied, his voice higher than usual. “I can take more. I want to take more.”

“Okay. I’ll try to go a little slower.”

“Char, if you go any slower, Cuppa’s is going to have to open without you at six o’clock,” Nick shot back through a grimace.

“Cheeky,” Charlie said, literally smacking the side of Nick’s bum, though very lightly. “But actually, sass is a good sign. You’re taking me so well, Nick, you really are being such a good boy.”

Nick tried to suppress his shiver, though surely it was noticeable in his shoulders. Charlie’s little gasp made him realise he could feel Nick’s minor shaking through his dick.

All Nick could do as Charlie pressed forward yet again was grip the sheets, the fabric tight against his clutching fingers. He lowered his head to Charlie’s pillow and breathed in deeply, hoping Charlie was too preoccupied to notice. The scent of almonds filled his nostrils again, the scent he now associated with Charlie and his special shampoo and conditioner. Somehow, Nick’s dick, which to his surprise and delight had not flagged so far, got a little bit harder as he breathed in Charlie’s scent. 

Nick suddenly realised this must be sort of what Charlie feels when he breathes in Nick’s armpits. The olfactory becomes sexual, reinforces attraction. It’s not quite the same, of course — liking the smell of someone’s hair products isn’t the same as craving their sweaty odour. Still, Nick felt a little closer to understanding Charlie, and he smiled.

“Okay, I think that’s far enough for tonight,” Charlie said.

The distraction of Charlie’s almond pillows meant Nick had glided through the last push of Charlie’s campaign, apparently. He didn’t feel quite like a split log, although he sure could tell there was a big cock up his arse. 

“How do you feel?”

“Erm… kind of weird,” Nick replied honestly. “There’s still some discomfort. But it doesn’t quite hurt.”

Charlie hummed. “Okay. You’ll adjust soon. In the meantime, just relax.” Nick bit back a joke — after all Charlie had done this for him lots of times. “You really are so beautiful like this, Nick,” Charlie continued. “God, look at you, taking my cock so well. And I get to look at your beautiful thighs and your back and your shoulders…”

Nick hadn’t realised how verbally affectionate Charlie could be. Was it because of their chequered history, and this was just newfound appreciation? Or was he always like this when he topped — so, rarely? Nick didn’t know, but he knew he liked hearing it. And he could feel that Charlie liked saying it. And just a few months ago they were practically at each other’s throats.

Eventually, the discomfort had largely subsided.

“Char… I think, um. I think I’m ready now?”

“Yeah? Are you sure?” 

Nick’s arms quivered under him. “Please… please just fuck me already, god.”

Then Nick got what he wanted. Charlie started withdrawing, almost as slowly as he’d pushed in, and the changing pressures inside his body started driving Nick insane. He gasped loudly, the friction of the condom against his insides a new and strange experience. Soon, he could just feel his rim expanding again as Charlie’s head reached it. Nick was amazed that he was so sensitive down there. 

Before the burn really started, though, Charlie started thrusting in again. Well, thrusting wasn’t quite the correct word, since it was so slow. But Nick was glad for the pace. It wasn’t quite pleasurable yet, but he’d definitely moved beyond any discomfort. Charlie sheathed himself, then pushed in and out a few more times. Each thrust felt a little better; Nick was definitely starting to see the appeal, and that little yearning in his bum had definitely been slaked.

“How are we doing?” Charlie asked lightly.

“F-fine,” Nick said, stumbling over his words a bit.

“Just fine? That won’t do at all.”

Charlie gripped Nick by the waist and rearranged them slightly. Nick wasn’t sure what the point was until suddenly a flash of sensation overwhelmed him and he shouted out.

“There we go,” Charlie said. “Found your prostate again.”

He paused for a second while Nick breathed shakily.

“Found it? I’m surprised that thing can even miss it, Jesus Christ.”

“You ready to have some real fun, Nick?” Charlie asked mischievously. 

“You’re in charge,” Nick replied.

Charlie hummed. “I would have thought you’d be a bossier bottom.”

“I mean, I was letting you take charge as the expert here, but if you’d prefer I give you some orders, that can be arr—”

Nick cut off mid word as he yelped. Charlie had actually thrust this time, pulling out and slamming back in (though still holding back, Nick could tell), and oh, oh Jesus, the pleasure skyrocketed now. Nick didn’t know if it was just the time taken prepping him or the new angle or just Charlie’s bloody enormous cock but HOLY SHIT had things moved into overdrive.

Some sort of deeply embarrassing noise escaped Nick’s throat.

“Oh, I think he likes it,” he heard Charlie say, but he sounded distant. Nick realised his senses must be overwhelmed, but he couldn’t figure out how to speak up before Charlie had thrust again, completely resetting his brain. No, it was clearly going to be all Nick could do to hold on for dear life, wasn’t it? Was Nick even going to survive this? Only time would tell.

His hard cock bounced around between his legs as Charlie pushed against him, droplets of precum landing on his legs and the towel beneath them. As he thrust, Charlie’s hands roved up and down Nick’s back, which he did his best to arch, since he knew he found that so sexy in a person and hoped Charlie would, too. But Nick was having a hard time telling if he’d succeeded — there was a lot going on down there and his body couldn’t quite keep up with all the signals.

Nick realised Charlie was speaking, and he honed his brain power on listening.

“Is it good, Nick? Do you feel good?”

Somehow, Nick summoned the power of speech.

“Oh my fucking god, Charlie, this is… I can’t even…”

Nick stared down at his hands, knuckles almost as white as the sheets they were clutching. This all felt amazing, but… the view was kind of lacking. He didn’t know what Charlie thought about it when he was on the receiving end; they’d done it all kinds of ways, but when he was topping, Nick obviously always had some view of Charlie, and each one was stunning. In this position, though, on his hands and knees, Nick was looking at the sheets or the wall, and frankly, it felt a little too impersonal.

“Charlie… Char… could we…”

Charlie suddenly paused.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Nick turned his head a bit. “Nothing’s wrong, exactly, um, I was just wondering if. If maybe we could face each other?”

“Oh,” Charlie replied. “Are you sure? Like missionary? That’s going to feel different, so you know.”

“I know, I know you said this is the best position for my first time but… Charlie, please. I — I want to see you.”

“Jesus, Nick,” Charlie moaned lowly. “How can you say soft shit like that so easily? God.”

Nick didn’t think it was that deep, but apparently his request had hit home with Charlie, who started pulling out. Nick grunted when Charlie’s head passed through his stretched rim, and he struggled not to whine at the surprisingly empty feeling his cock left behind. Was it like this all the time?

“Sorry I had to pull out, but, uh, I don’t have those big rugby muscles to manhandle you into position,” Charlie said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

Nick carefully manoeuvred himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed, then turned to look at Charlie.

“I love your muscles, Charlie,” he replied, placing a flat palm on Charlie’s chest and trailing down. “Your arms, your core, your fucking thighs… your body drives me absolutely wild.”

He leaned up and kissed Charlie, for the first time in what felt like forever, and it felt so, so right again. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Charlie placed a hand on Nick’s chest and gently pushed him back. His eyes were inky with desire.

“Need to fuck you again,” he said.

Nick shuddered and scooted up the bed. He laid on his back and pulled his legs up closer to his torso. He wasn’t as lean or limber as Charlie, so he couldn’t fold himself into a tight pretzel like Charlie often did. But it didn’t seem to matter.

Charlie lined up behind Nick, using his thumb to press more lube up into Nick, who sighed contentedly at the feeling. Charlie pressed a few kisses to Nick’s calves in the air and then began pressing his cock forward. There was that pressure and relief as his head passed through, then soon enough Nick was filled again, though now he could look down and see Charlie was definitely only fucking him with maybe two-thirds of his cock.

Someday…

But for now, this was more than enough, and there were those waves of pleasure crashing over Nick like waves at the beach. But this was so much better. Not because the sensation was different, though it was, and Nick was biting his lip at the feeling. But because he could see Charlie, finally. Charlie, who was gawping at the point where his body subsumed his cock, his curls damp from sweat hanging loosely in the air. 

“Nick, you’re so good for me, Jesus,” Charlie murmured, seemingly babbling nothings as he focused on fucking Nick. 

He needed Charlie’s lips on his own.

Nick used one arm to prop himself up and the other to reach forward until his hand caressed Charlie’s cheek and jawline, that jawline that could cut glass, Nick swore. Charlie looked up and made eye contact with Nick, who put on his best pleading eyes.

“Kiss me,” he said simply, and Charlie surged forward and locked his lips on Nick’s. The change in position drove Charlie a little bit deeper, forcing Nick to moan straight into Charlie’s mouth.

He broke the kiss. “You okay?”

“I’m so fucking okay, fuck, please, Charlie,” Nick groaned. His voice was cracking and he sounded completely blissed out — which he was. All that stress and fear he’d felt about bottoming — it all seemed so silly now as Charlie fucked into him, even if Nick knew taking his whole cock would probably be harder.

This was… different. Nick was feeling electric buildup in his whole body — limbs, hands and feet, sparks on his fingers and toes. He didn’t even know his cock could get this hard. Thank goodness Charlie hadn’t been jacking him off in the meantime, Nick surely would have blown his load already. God, Nick could live in this moment, in this feeling, watching a wrecked Charlie fuck him.

He let his eyes wander down to where Charlie hips were snapping to and fro. He’d long had a thing for Charlie’s stomach, but seeing it undulate as he fucked Nick, seeing the skin flush and glisten, the dark hairs matted with sweat, and just the barest hint of abs as Charlie moved and tensed and swore — Nick felt dizzy with lust. Thankfully, he was already lying down, so he just fell backward as Charlie ploughed the living daylights out of him.

Charlie leaned down and pressed his forehead against Nick, each of their damp fringes intermingling as they heaved with effort and desire. 

“Oh, Nick… I can’t believe you’re real…” Charlie moaned. Nick could actually feel the vibrations from his throat at this range. “You’re so fucking good, oh my god.”

Nick huffed through a smile. “You’re the one who’s fucking good right now.”

Charlie managed to roll his eyes and groan.

“But really, you’re so beautiful, Charlie, I can’t stand it.” Nick ran a hand through the short curls on the side of Charlie’s head, around his ear, clasping onto his neck.

Charlie grinned.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Remember when… ugh, god… remember when we hated each other?”

Nick thought back to those early days, all the taunting, the teasing, the fuckery. 

He started laughing.

“Nick, what —”

“You’re right, it’s funny!” Nick replied through chuckles. “A few months ago there was a non-zero chance we were going to kill each other. And now I’m begging for your cock up my arse! I just —”

He broke off, convulsing with laughter, and Charlie joined in for a moment before a flash crossed his face.

“Fuck, Nick, your laughter, it’s — fuck I’m gonna — oh fuck!”

Charlie’s arms buckled and he fell forward, pressed against Nick’s front, his face buried in the crook of Nick’s neck. Nick’s giggles died down when he realised that his laughter had apparently pushed Charlie over the edge. He could feel Charlie’s huge cock pulsing inside him as he unloaded into the condom.

As he came, Charlie twitched on top of Nick. He wasn’t sure if it was the friction of Charlie’s treasure trail rubbing along his aching, neglected dick or the truly indecent little noises Charlie was making right next to his ear or just the fact that he, Nick Nelson, had brought his boyfriend to this wild state, but suddenly Nick was clenching his toes and wordlessly screaming as he finally, finally fucking came. His spend erupted between them, instantly slathered between their bellies, slick and funky. 

When he regained his senses, Nick found he was already stroking one hand along Charlie’s back, his flesh practically searing Nick’s palm as he heaved in and out. Nick cooed gently, turning his head toward Charlie’s ear.

“You did so good, Charlie, you’re so perfect, so sexy and beautiful and wonderful, good job, Char.”

Nick kept murumering praise as Charlie’s breathing regulated. Finally, Charlie propped himself up on his arms, his little muscles bulging with the effort of keeping him aloft after that performance.

“Oh my god, Nick,” he said. Charlie looked like he was having a hard time focusing his eyes. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Well, then I guess it’s just like riding a bike, because you are very, very good at it.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. 

“D-did you like it?”

Nick held it together for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing.

Charlie winced.

“Oh god, I can feel you laughing again but it’s so sensitive…”

He withdrew from Nick, who was so thoroughly fucked out he barely even felt it. Charlie shuffled back a bit, and Nick’s sore legs collapsed completely on either side of Charlie. He lay there, completely exposed, gross and boneless and covered in bodily fluids. Charlie didn’t seem to mind.

“Is the man mayo slathered on our bellies right now not proof that I liked that, Char?” he said. “Holy fuck, I had no idea…”

Charlie tugged the condom off and tied it up before tossing it toward his little bin.

“Did I just turn rugby prince Nick Nelson into a nelly bottom?” 

“Oh my god!” Nick yelped, grabbing a pillow and throwing it toward Charlie, though he deflected it. “I mean, I’m definitely not doing that every day. But, uh… I’m also definitely doing that again.”

He smiled bashfully, and when he looked up Charlie had matched his grin and was shaking his head.

“Lord, it’s almost 1 a.m.,” he said, looking at the clock on his wall. “Come on, let’s shower quickly and get some sleep, yeah?”

They showered efficiently, no funny business this time, partly because they were both so bone-tired that they weren’t sure how much longer they could stand up. Each washed down the other’s stomach before Charlie paid special attention to cleansing and massaging Nick’s hole. He was definitely going to be feeling that tomorrow. He wondered how on earth he was ever going to take all nine inches. But he knew, someday, he would. He had to, damn.

“Hey, so… when we were sniping earlier… before we fucked… did you kind of enjoy that?” Nick asked as he sudsed down Charlie’s shoulders.

“Like, when I was snippy with you?”

“Yeah. Our fighting. Fighting then fucking,” Nick said. “It seems to work for us. I mean, sometimes. I just — sorry, I just meant, maybe, if you liked that too, we could try it again sometime?”

Charlie turned around. “Like roleplay?”

Nick shrugged. “Sort of. I don’t know. I just when we’re pissed off at each other we have this really intense heat. Not that we have to do it every time. Just a thought.”

Charlie turned off the water, which was starting to run cold. “I’ll sleep on it. Come on.”

They dried off and climbed into bed together nude. Charlie’s alarm was going to go off stupid early, but he told Nick he’d leave him a key so he could sleep in.

A few hours later, running on too little sleep, Charlie was dressed in coffeehouse clothes and grabbed his bag. Nick had mostly snoozed through him getting ready, but he was awake enough to feel Charlie place a gentle kiss on his forehead before quietly stepping out and closing the bedroom door behind him.

 

***

 

At practice later that day, Sai doesn’t say anything about Nick not being at home in the morning and just grins impishly at him instead. Both men claimed to have suffered a cramp and limped onto the field, and afterward they kept each other company while sitting on ice packs.

“You know… both of us getting ‘cramps’ at the same time sort of makes it look like you and I…” Sai said, pointing back and forth between them.

“Stop trying to climb this tree, Sai.” Nick wanted to sound more irritated, but it came out weirdly bashful for some reason.

“Never,” Sai said jovially. “I already know that your bark is worse than your bite.”

Notes:

Apologies for use of the term "man mayo" but it's just so funny.

After learning that Brits are militant about the metric system except when it comes to dick size, I have switched to inches. And no, they're not exaggerating.

Chapter 19

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick and Charlie told Sai and Imogen about their relationship. Nick came out to Tara and Darcy as well. Sai got pegged, and Nick, not to be outdone, bottomed for the first time.

This time: It's Valentine's Day; Nick cooks dinner, Charlie does dessert. Nick tries therapy. Nick starts seeing interest from other teams. Nick takes Charlie on a date, but someone unexpected shows up.

Notes:

In addition to the usual “🥙” markers denoting armpit kink sections, please be aware that the entire first section of this fic involves food play, meaning the use of food items during sex. If you wish to avoid those depictions, you can read the rest of the chapter without losing any key plot points. Please skip down to the first text break and start with the section that begins:

 

“Nick? Nick Nelson?”

 

He’d been lost in thought…

 

Thank you so much to KitSaidOui for his beta work, and thank you to assistant beta reader for this chapter, planttaxonomy. Additional gratitude to rusty French consultant BeezusRed.

“Oh my goodness,” Charlie said, sucking his fingers noisily. “I had no idea you could do that.”

Nick blushed. “Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Duck à l'orange, I am well and truly impressed.”

It was Valentine’s Day, and Nick had cooked one of his signature French dishes — one of the few things of worth he picked up from his deadbeat dad — for Charlie. Of course, going out on the (allegedly) most romantic day of the year was out of the question. But Nick had been relieved when Charlie argued that going out on V-Day sucked anyway. Extremely crowded, overpriced food, and god help you if you were sat next to a couple that got engaged that night. 

So they’d agreed to stay in. And through some miracle, Sai and Imogen had decided to go out, putting up with the outrageous crowds and prices. Nick had relaxed when Sai had mentioned their plans. He and Imogen were still looking at Nick and Charlie like you would a baby fawn taking its first steps. It was nauseating. Charlie agreed. 

So Nick had cooked. Duck à l'orange, a rice pilaf, green beans with almonds and a really smooth riesling that was so good, the two men were on their second bottle. 

As they finished up, Nick watched Charlie clear up the last bit on his plate. Every day, Nick marvelled that they had gotten from their wretched starting place to here. Apparently, against all odds, this was a universe where Nick Nelson fell in love with Charlie Spring.

Not that Nick was going to say that. It was insane even to acknowledge it within his own mind, but those thoughts had stormed the drawbridge long ago, so Nick basically learned to accept it. 

“What are you thinking in there?” Charlie asked.

Nick brought himself back to the present. “Hmm?”

“You had one of your faraway looks. I wondered where you’d gone,” Charlie said, dabbing his napkin to his mouth and setting it on the table. 

Nick smiled lightly. “Just back in time a bit.”

Charlie exhaled and simply stared at him. Nick squirmed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t pry further, because he wasn’t great at lying to Charlie and he didn’t want to come across a sap. Or worse, accidentally say something he couldn’t take back.

“So… shall we clean up?” Charlie asked. “And then maybe have some dessert?”

Ah, dessert. Charlie had insisted he would bring something sweet, but he refused to tell Nick anything about it. It must be cold, since Charlie had put something in the refrigerator when he arrived, though he made Nick stand so he couldn’t see.

They worked efficiently to clean up. Nick had developed the habit from Sarah over the years of cleaning up after himself as he cooked, so they had fewer dishes to scrub afterward. And Charlie complemented Nick’s sink skills by being a drying ace. Soon enough, they were putting away the last of the pans.

“So, can I finally find out what your big secret dessert is?” Nick asked, sauntering up against Charlie, close enough that he had to bend his head down sharply to look at his boyfriend.

“Almost,” Charlie said.

“Do you need plates or anything?” Nick asked, turning to the cabinet.

“Nope,” Charlie replied. “Also, dessert will be served in the boudoir.”

“The boudoir?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Yes, I know it’s — I meant, what? Why?”

Charlie smirked. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Nick finally cottoned on. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, I need a small tray, and then I need you to go strip down to your pants and lay on your bed.”

Tray. Tray. Where was the tray? All the blood had rushed out of Nick’s brain for some reason.

Charlie tapped him lightly on the forehead, and Nick finally started moving, acting on impulse. He found their breakfast tray and handed it to Charlie before he was being gently pushed out of the kitchen as Charlie shooed him away.

Nick plodded into his room and quickly shed his clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side before he threw a big towel across the bed and hopped up, positioning himself against the headboard. His cock was already a little inflated, filling out the pouch in his boxer-briefs.

Was that the microwave beeping? Nick scrunched up his face and looked toward the door, wondering what Charlie was getting up to. And what he was about to get up to in the boudoir. 

Finally, Charlie came through, closing the door behind him with one foot. The tray in his hands was now full of stuff: A can of squirty cream, a squeeze bottle of honey, a bowl of strawberries, a canister of rainbow hundreds-and-thousands and what looked like some kind of fancy hot fudge sauce that Nick had once seen at Marks and Spencer. That must have been what Charlie was warming in the microwave. 

Nick’s cock went from half-hard to fully hard before the scent of chocolate had even reached his nose.

“Well, well, now I get it,” Nick said smugly as Charlie set the tray on the bedside table and quickly shed his clothes. “ I’m the dessert.”

“Mmm,” mumbled Charlie, now down to his skivvies and socks. He clambered up onto the mattress and straddled Nick’s waist, pressing down delightfully on his now aching cock. “Because you’re so sweet.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Gay!”

“And salty,” Charlie quipped. He leaned in and kissed Nick for a minute before he pulled back and surveyed the goods. The edible goods.

“What do I want first…” 

His hand hovered over the tray, fingers dancing in a wave pattern, until suddenly he grabbed the squirty cream.

“Isn’t that a little cliche?” Nick asked with a laugh as Charlie worked off the plastic cap and shook the canister. “I mean, this is like uni stuff.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Who was putting squirty cream on you in uni? And where exactly were they putting it?” 

His hardened gaze made Nick squirm.

“I — no, no one. I was just joking,” Nick said, a small lump in his throat.

“Really?” Charlie asked. “You mean no one’s ever done this?”

Charlie held the canister at the base of Nick’s throat and pressed the nozzle, sending a stream of cold whipped cream onto his skin. Nick gasped at the chill, just slightly, but more than enough to make Charlie smirk before he bent down and licked a long, warm stripe along Nick’s larynx, catching the cream on his tongue. 

“No, no one’s ever done that,” Nick said.

A hum. “What about this?”

More cream, this time applied to the side of his neck, just shy of his ear. Charlie gently licked away at it until he was tonguing Nick’s skin, where he moved along until his earlobe was between Charlie’s teeth, the lightest of bites sending goosebumps down Nick’s arm.

“N-nope,” Nick said, his voice shaky.

Charlie shimmied down a big and aimed the canister right at Nick’s belly button. 

“What about this?”

Cold cream filled his innie, and Nick’s abs contracted at the shock, which of course made Charlie growl appreciatively. He leaned down, formed a wide seal around the white puff and sucked, and oh, oh shit, that tingled and tickled in the best possible way. Then Charlie licked a perimeter around Nick’s navel, where it was ringed by blonde hairs like a crown. Okay, Nick was very, very into this.

“Mouth open.”

Hardly the first time Charlie had given him that command, but it was the first time it was followed by, “And don’t swallow.”

Another puff of cream, and then Charlie’s lips were on his own. They snogged, sweet cream sloshing back and forth between their mouths, their hard-ons grinding against each other pleasantly.

Charlie pulled back and licked his lips.

“Let’s see if it’s cool enough yet.”

He re-capped the whipped cream and placed it on the tray before lifting up the jar of chocolate sauce, wrapped in a potholder. This must have been what he was microwaving. Charlie picked up a spoon and gave it a stir before lifting the spoon up and carefully licking it. It must not have been too hot, because he took a longer lick up the back of the spoon, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Nick gulped.

“Are you okay with this?” Charlie asked. “It’s warm, but not hot, I promise.”

Nick looked at the jar again and nodded. It felt weird smelling chocolate while he was leaking straight through his underwear from arousal… Nick swore if he developed a chocolate kink from this he’d find a way to get Charlie back.

A curt nod, then a more confident one, and then Charlie was tipping the jar. The thick brown goo poured down, slowly, landing on his right nipple. It was warm, very warm, but thankfully it didn’t feel like burning, which surely would have killed Nick’s mood. It was thick and spread quite slowly, so Charlie moved the jar over and tilted more out onto his left nipple as well. He used the spoon to drizzle more around Nick’s chest and throat, but what made Nick laugh was when Charlie picked up the rainbow hundreds-and-thousands and tapped some out, a sea of colour across the molten brown.

Nick relaxed into Charlie’s tongue as it lapped up the chocolate, the warmth of the sauce competing with the friction of Charlie’s tongue to bring his nipples to full attention. Nick’s pectorals flexed as his sensitive nipples came to life; Charlie’s hands gripped the side of each one, fingers pressing Nick’s skin tightly enough to turn it white. 

Charlie clamped down multiple times on the skin along Nick’s chest. He was definitely going to have hickeys in the morning. That might be a problem at practice if the guys notice. But fuck it, Nick couldn’t be arsed to stop Charlie. He didn’t want to. So he lay there, letting his boyfriend pepper him with sex bruises, because this was Nick’s life now.

Soon they were snogging again, this time sweet chocolate dancing on their tongues.

“Nick, you taste so good,” Charlie said, his forehead pressed against Nick as they caught their breath. 

Nick chuckled. “Might be the chocolate sauce.”

“Mmm-mmm,” Charlie murmured, shaking his head. “It’s you. Your taste, your essence… god, if I could bottle it…”

“You’d get rich?” Nick asked jokingly.

“Fuck no,” Charlie replied. “I’d never sell anything that good. That’s for me only. No one else.”

Were they still talking about Nick’s “essence”? Charlie was sounding rather gone. Who knew a little fudge on his tits would do this to the man?

“Char —”

“Strawberries!”

“I — hmm?”

Charlie reached over for the bowl of strawberries, from which he had cut off the greens, leaving the juicy red flesh. He picked up one, spinning it so the flat white top was facing Nick, and then lowered it to his stubbled nipple and pressed down. The chill made Nick wince again — cold, then hot, then cold had been this sex session. Nick whimpered as Charlie dragged the berry around his areola before popping it in his mouth, crushing it with his tongue. Holy shit. Charlie repeated that on the other nipple, leaving Nick just as agog, his nipples now sharp enough to cut glass.

“I want to try that,” Nick said, grabbing a strawberry from the bowl and holding it up against Charlie’s nipple. 

Charlie sighed into the berry stimulation, his eyes closed loosely and his shoulders heaving. Nick ate the berry, then used a new one on Charlie’s other nipple. Greedily, Nick took a third one and rubbed it along Charlie’s throat before he tossed the berry aside and licked Charlie’s damp skin, the fructose balanced by just the tiniest hint of salt. 

“Nick… oh, Nick,” Charlie moaned. Nick delighted, feeling Charlie’s throat contract and spasm as he spoke. 

“So,” Nick said when he’d finished laving his tongue over every square centimetre of Nick’s throat. “Honey, now?”

“Yeah, but, erm, I was thinking,” Charlie replied. “Might it be okay if… I…”

Even after he’d embraced Charlie’s kink, the poor man was still too shy to ask. Nick could wait for the day when Charlie could be, would be, totally open about his sexual desires. 

Nick lifted his arm, bent the elbow and tucked the hand behind his head. “I haven’t used deodorant today, just in case.”

He could almost see a sparkle in Charlie’s eye as he hungrily licked his lips and then met Nick’s gaze. 

“You’re helping me wash this out, though,” Nick said. “I don’t want sticky pits all day tomorrow.”

“Us showering together?” Charlie asked as he snicked open the cap on the bottle of honey. “Twist my arm, why don’t you?”

Nick could easily smell the honey as the golden ambrosia slowly cascaded down into his armpit. But he didn’t feel much, at first. He realised the viscous honey was sitting atop the hairs there. 

Or it was, until Charlie leaned down and latched on. Suddenly, he could feel the smear everywhere, honey slathering across his skin as Charlie’s tongue licked long stripes in the nook there. Charlie hadn’t poured that much honey on him, but Nick was surprised — happily — at just how long Charlie paid him attention before he leaned up to resupply.

“This honey has great staying power,” Charlie said as the thick liquid dripped down onto Nick’s armpit.

“Much like myself,” Nick replied cheekily.

Charlie rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against the steel pipe in Nick’s pants and making his gasp and blush.

“We’ll see about that,” Charlie replied, his voice gravelly.

And then he was back at work, his tongue tickling the hairy inner recesses before he worked his way out to the more barren outer rim of Nick’s pit. They switched arms, and Nick could do nothing but lay there and feel tingly all over at Charlie’s attention. The physical feelings Charlie’s tongue sent spreading across Nick’s skin in waves was quite pleasant, but what Nick truly liked about this was just how horny it made Charlie. He was licking furiously long stripes up Nick’s pit, making tiny little happy grunting noises and grinding against Nick’s cock, maybe even without realising it. 

Suddenly, Charlie sat up and stared down at Nick. His eyes were hooded with lust and his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Nick, I need to taste you,” he growled. “Please, please can I suck you, please?”

Food play seemed to be over. Time for the main course.

“Obviously, yes,” Nick laughed, and without hesitation Charlie scrambled lower down the bed. He coaxed Nick’s pants off, so quickly that his rock hard cock thwapped against his stomach, splattering precum all over the area around his navel. Nick moaned at the release, then moaned louder still when Charlie took his head into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the corona and through the slit. 

Twenty minutes of food-slash-nipple play had gotten Nick pretty worked up, and he knew quickly that he wouldn’t last long. Fortunately, Charlie seemed to intuit this as well, because just when Nick had decided to warn Charlie of his impending orgasm, Charlie released his cock and took both of Nick’s balls in his mouth, lolling them about on his tongue. 

The warmth and wetness and tightness felt amazing, but did give his dick a breather, so when Charlie attacked it again, Nick wasn’t quite so on edge. As Charlie hoovered him to the root, Nick placed his hands on his nipples and brought them back to their peaks, tiny mountains on the soft mounds of his chest. Holy fuck, this felt good.

It was Charlie’s finger poking at his perineum straight into his prostate that suddenly tipped Nick over the edge. He writhed around on the mattress as Charlie planted his face into Nick’s crotch, his spend shooting straight down Charlie’s welcoming throat.

Even though it involved the least amount of physical activity, and even though there was no better boost to one’s self-confidence and wellbeing than being worshipped by one’s boyfriend, being on the receiving end of a blowjob always left Nick feeling like a giant bowl of gelatin. The feeling itself was great, but the portion of Nick’s mind that bugged him until his partner had been pleasured was difficult to scratch when you couldn’t be arsed to lift an arm.

Charlie let Nick’s cock drop from his pretty red lips, his jaw hanging loosely and saliva coating his cheeks. Fucking beautiful, Nick thought, absolutely stunning.  

“Char,” Nick breathed heavily, “wanna get you off. But…”

“But you’re jelly?” Charlie said, his voice sounding fucked out (and hot). “There are some… options. In fact, there’s something I want to try. Erm. If you’re okay with it.”

What was this? Another kink? Pits, food, now this mystery request — Charlie Spring really was the most surprising little pervert. Nick’s heart skipped a beat thinking about how fucking awesome he was.

“Go on.”

Charlie looked bashful. 

“Could I… could I please fuck your tits?”

Nick’s brain broke. 

He was coming around to the idea that Charlie liked his big chest — and that he referred to them as tits. Being a rugby player meant certain body parts were bigger than many other athletes — thighs, biceps and, yes, the chest.

But Nick Nelson had never, in his life, anticipated that anyone would want to titty fuck him.

He’d seen it in porn a couple of times, though always on women. And he’d thought about it with girls before, but never asked; he’d never been with anyone he’d trusted to react well to that kind of request. It’s kind of hard to come back from if your partner is weirded out by it.

Oh. Huh. So that’s what was happening here. A little test of trust and goodwill.

Nick realised Charlie was staring at his heaving chest and licking his lips.

Or maybe his boyfriend was just horny out of his mind. It was known to happen.

Nick summoned the strength to lean up, pulling Charlie down with one hand until they kissed.

“Yes,” he said. “You can titty fuck me, Charlie.”

Charlie released a sharp intake of breath, then pushed Nick back on the bed. He scrambled out of his own pants, releasing that long boi, and then straddled Nick’s midsection so his cock rested in the hairy cleft down the centre. Nick realised there were smudges of chocolate there still, the residue Charlie couldn’t clean off with his tongue.

Nick wasn’t sure what to do, so he flexed and moved his arms a bit, creating something akin to a bun for Charlie’s hot dog. Charlie placed his hands on the headboard and did a test thrust. The movement felt strange to Nick — like chafing.

Of course. His chest was dry. That’s not gonna make for a great fuck.

“Maybe you should get the lube,” Nick said, gesturing toward the bedside table.

Charlie reached over and had gripped the handle when he paused for a moment.

“I have another idea!” he shouted, jumping off the bed and running out of the room, starkers and completely hard. 

“You’re insane!” Nick shouted after him. “What if Sai and Imogen came home?”

“They won’t!” Charlie shouted back. Nick could hear cabinet doors opening and closing. “I gave Imogen 20 quid to take Sai back to her den of sin tonight.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

Charlie ran back in, closing the door behind him just in case. He was holding a jar that looked familiar. Coconut oil. Sai and Imogen used it in their cooking a lot, and Nick liked making brownies with it because it gave a subtle but unmistakable coconut flavour that really complemented the chocolate.

Then Nick realised that oil was about to be used as lube, and his drained cock twitched ever so slightly. 

“Is this okay?” Charlie asked as he clambered back on top of Nick. “Can’t really use this as real lube, but for this I thought it might be nice.”

“Is it safe?”

“According to the internet, yes,” Charlie said as he spooned some out, plopping the solid white substance onto Nick’s chest. He knew from baking that when it warmed up it would turn into a clear, slick liquid.

“Oh, there’s a trustworthy source,” Nick teased.

“It’s a moisturiser, people put it on their skin all the time,” Charlie said as he began rubbing it into Nick’s chest. His gentle massaging of Nick’s fleshy pecs felt lovely and his nostrils filled with the tropical scent of coconut.

“They put it on their dick? Because that’s where yours is going.”

“Apparently it’s dick friendly,” Charlie replied as he massaged the oil into Nick’s chest. “Though not latex friendly, so you can’t pair it with condoms.”

Charlie kept working the oil on Nick’s chest with determination, but he had reminded Nick about something he’d been considering ever since they got together at Christmas. Taking the next step. It had seemed far too early then, but they were solidly into their relationship now and Nick figured maybe it was okay to at least broach the subject.

“Char,” Nick said, not sure how to broach this. Nothing had ever prepared him for how to tactfully ask if he could blow his load deep inside someone’s guts. 

Charlie hummed as he scooped more coconut oil onto Nick’s chest.

“Erm. I was thinking. Since we’re exclusive. That maybe if we got tested and confirmed that we’re both clear… that maybe…”

“Maybe you could blow your load deep inside my guts?” Charlie interrupted, taking the words out of Nick’s mouth.

“I — No! Well, yeah, sort of but —”

Charlie laughed. “You’re so cute, you know that?” 

Nick’s face was a battlefield between the fluster from being embarrassed and the fluster from being called cute. 

“How long have you been waiting to ask that, hmm?” Charlie asked. He had started applying some oil along his hardened shaft.

“Since… since you rode me reverse cowgirl,” Nick said, his voice strained and his cheeks burning at being perceived.

“You liked that, huh?” Charlie asked, his voice sultry. Suddenly he twisted around and looked at Nick’s cock. “Oh, you really liked that! You’re filling up again, Nick… good boy.”

Nick watched Charlie reach one coconut-oiled hand behind him and grip Nick’s cock. He was surprised that he was apparently ready to go again relatively quickly, but between Charlie’s little massage and his weight on his body, this talk of raw sex, and now Charlie’s slippery hand on him (and maybe, if Nick was brave enough to be honest, maybe just a little bit being called a “good boy”), Nick was indeed back at full mast. 

Charlie moved his cock into position and gave a test thrust — a nearly frictionless glide, much more pleasant. 

“Are you ready, Nick,” Charlie asked, his eyes blown wide. Clearly he wanted this, and Nick wanted to please him.

“Yeah.” Nick flexed his pecs, deepening the crevasse in which Charlie’s dick sat, and then Charlie was thrusting, slow, calm juts at first. Nick was surprised at how much sensation there was, particularly since his chest, even when he flexed it, didn’t come close to fully surrounding Charlie’s dick.

But Charlie certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, and Nick had an absolutely fantastic view of his stomach and chest and armpits and throat as Charlie leaned over to brace himself against the backboard while he thrust. His hips snapping back and forth, Charlie built a steady rhythm as his cock glided back and forth across Nick’s chest.

“You’re so hot, Charlie, fuck,” Nick said, enraptured at all the little muscles firing under Charlie’s skin as he fucked Nick’s chest.

“French!” Charlie gasped back. “Say it in French, Nick.”

This was not the first time Nick had gotten that request in bed. It was almost silly that so many people found his bilingual tongue sexy; another one of the few good things he’d inherited from his deadbeat dad.

He smirked. 

“Tu as l'air si sexy quand tu baises ma poitrine,” Nick murmured, watching a bead of sweat roll down Charlie’s clavicle and past his nipple. “J'adore regarder ton ventre bouger d'avant en arrière quand tu fléchis les bras.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Charlie moaned, dipping his head as his eyes clenched shut. 

“Un jour, je prendrai toute ta bite dans mon cul, ouias, Charlie.”

Charlie’s thrusts sped up slightly as he cursed under his breath. He’d been on the brink for a while; perhaps this wasn’t going to last long.

“Tu es la plus belle personne que j'ai jamais rencontrée... Je pense que je t'aime tellement.”

Charlie gasped above him. Nick was pretty sure it was the most incredible sound he’d ever heard.

Then Charlie turned his head to stare straight at Nick.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he said. “Can you do that?”

“Erm… I think so, yeah.”

Nick wrapped one arm around Charlie’s thigh. He could feel it flexing as Charlie rocked back and forth. It took some effort, and a little bit of contracting his core, but Nick could just get his hand around his cock — the top of the shaft, anyway. He started pulling, his eyes fluttering at the feeling. 

“Oh my god, that’s perfect, fuck, Nick,” Charlie moaned above him. 

Nick lifted his head. It was an awkward angle, but he could see that in reaching around to touch himself, Nick had put more pressure on Charlie’s dick as it ploughed his fleshy chest. 

A drop of sweat beaded on Charlie’s nose and fell onto Nick’s left cheek below. “Fuck, Nick, I’m so close, oh god.”

“Viens pour moi, Charlie. Sois mon bon garçon.”

Nick had the best view of Charlie as he started to come apart, arm muscles bulging, hips stuttering, a string of curse words that, coming from Charlie’s mouth, sounded instead like a blessing. 

And then he tipped over the edge. Blast after blast of warm, milky cum erupted from his cock, splashing Nick under his chin and running down his neck. Oh fuck. He’d heard of this on Urban Dictionary before… a pearl necklace, it was called. 

Nick would have giggled at the silly name except that having a close-up view of Charlie orgasming pushed Nick into his second one of the night. It was definitely more abrupt and less powerful than his first one, but nonetheless he managed to splash a decent amount on the small of Charlie’s back. 

Charlie, meanwhile, was finally starting to finish, dribbles of his spend now oozing out onto Nick’s chest, getting caught up in the hairs there. Charlie’s whole body shook above him as he heaved in mighty breaths. Nick wiped the hand covered in his cum on the towel beneath them and then ran his hands gently up and down Charlie’s ribs and hips, soothing him down, whispering sweet nothings in French, as requested.

“Good lord, Nick,” Charlie said when he caught his breath. “That was…”

“Yeah, you seemed to enjoy yourself,” Nick smirked back. “And now I know what a cinnamon roll feels like, Jesus.”

Charlie looked down at Nick, taking in his goo-covered throat and laughing.

Nick had an idea. He was just able to reach the strawberries on the bedside table. He plucked one from the bowl and ran it along his throat, picking up Charlie’s essence before bringing it to his mouth.

“Holy shit, Nick, what —”

Charlie’s voice cut off with a strangle when Nick popped the cumberry into his mouth and crushed it with his tongue. Sweet fruit juice mixed with salty Charlieness, an almost perfectly balanced flavour profile. 

Nick swallowed and picked up another berry.

“You should try this, Char.”

He repeated the manoeuvre, running the berry through the pool of spend on his chest and then popping it in his mouth and crushing it with his tongue. Charlie stared at his slack-jawed, so Nick reached one hand up behind Charlie’s neck and calmly pulled him down until their lips met and parted, allowing the sinful fruit to pass back and forth between their mouths. 

Eventually, Nick rolled Charlie to his side and turned so they lay facing one another.

“So… are you into food play, then?” Nick asked. Their faces were just inches apart, so he spoke quietly.

“Never done it before, to be honest,” Charlie replied. “It was fun, but… I don’t know that it needs to be a regular part of the rotation.”

Nick hummed and smiled. “Unlike pit piggery.”

“Oink oink,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Although… maybe we could keep the honey in the bedroom?”

“Wha?” Nick started. “I thought you liked my scent!”

“Oh, I do. But it’s like movie popcorn… sometimes I want a mix of salty and sweet.”

“Salty and sweet… sounds like you’re describing me.”

“Nicholas Nelson, you giant fucking sap.”

They snogged for a while longer before the five or six different substances crusting over his skin became too much for Nick and they moved their bliss into the shower. 

As Nick held Charlie in his arms while falling asleep that night, he thought back to last year’s Valentine’s Day. He’d made the mistake of taking out the girl he’d been seeing at the time. The night had ended back at hers, a quick fuck and then he was out in the hallway before he even had his shirt fully back on. 

His life was so much better now. Because of Charlie.

But how long could they go on like this? Charlie was fine keeping them a secret for now. But he wouldn’t be forever. Eventually, he would want to be public. And Charlie had every right to want that.

Nick had never really contemplated coming out. It hadn’t been part of the plan — that plan where he was going to fall in love with a woman and have the life everyone expected him to have. He’d never planned to fall in love with a man. Never planned for Charlie Fucking Spring. 

 

***

 

“Nick? Nick Nelson?”

He’d been lost in thought, staring at a potted fern in the corner of the waiting room. Nick looked up to see a woman in her 40s standing in the doorway. She had shoulder length dark hair and her face was framed by a thick pair of glasses.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Ximena Torres. It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

Nick shook her hand and tentatively stepped into her office. He wasn’t sure what a therapist’s office was supposed to look like; he kind of expected there to be one of those couches designed to lie down on. But the couch looked normal.

“Umm… where should I sit, Dr. Torres?”

She smiled. “Feel free to sit wherever you like, or stand or walk around. And you can call me Dr. Torres if you want to, but please feel free to call me Ximena.”

Nick sat down on the edge of the sofa, trying to disappear into its cushions. He gripped the armrest hard. Nick was extremely nervous, and it was taking a lot of willpower not to run out the door right now. 

Dr. Torres — Ximena — was a psychologist retained by the Blackbirds for the players’ use. Nick had never seen her before, obviously. He didn’t know whether many other players had either. Outside of a few cases of the yips that it was widely known she had helped with, Nick had never heard anyone admit they had used her services. The stigma against seeking help with mental health was still prevalent in professional sports. It was only because of the long-term lobbying efforts from Charlie — who rightly pointed out that Nick was extremely privileged just to have access to therapy — that Nick was here.

“So, Nick,” Ximena said, sitting down in an armchair with a pad of paper and a pen. “Would you like to tell me why you’re here today?”

“Because my—”

Nick stopped short. He’d been psyching himself up for over a week to tell this woman, a total stranger, one of his most closely held secrets. It was terrifying, even though she didn’t know him, but Nick thought it was a necessary part of his story if therapy was going to be any help at all. But it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know if she was trustworthy.

“Um… can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Is this confidential? I mean… are you going to tell anyone what I say?”

Ximena smiled like she’d gotten that question many times before. “I know I’m paid by the Blackbirds, but you have full doctor-patient confidentiality, Nick. I’ll never tell anyone what you share with me, unless I think you’re going to harm yourself or others.”

The vice around Nick’s stomach loosened its grip marginally and he sucked in a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“So, I’m here because my… boyfriend recommended it.” It had taken a little extra effort to say the word, but he’d pushed through. And actually, Nick was pretty proud of himself.

He watched Ximena closely, waiting for the look of surprise or confusion. But she continued to look at him neutrally. Apparently Nick waited so long for her to react that she decided to speak up.

“Are you having relationship issues, then?”

Nick laughed.

“Er, not really? No. Actually, Charlie is the best thing that ever happened to me, and if he ever realises who I really am then he’ll wise up and find someone who deserves him.”

Ximena was jotting something down in her notebook. Nick bit back the urge to ask what it said. The mortifying ordeal of being perceived, and all that.

“Okay,” she said, looking up. “So who are you, really?”

Throwing Nick’s words back in his face, yes, he’d expected that. He knew enough about therapy to know that they never just made it fucking easy and told you what your problem was and how to fix it. He’d prefer if psychiatrists’ offices were more like auto body shops. Parts, labour, good as new, here’s the bill.

Enough stalling.

“I’m angry. I’m an angry person. And I’m a mean bastard to pretty much everyone. It’s against all odds that I have anyone in my life at all who cares about me, and I don’t understand why the few who do… do.”

Nick felt hot moisture in the corners of his eyes. Fuck. He’d hoped to make it through at least one fucking therapy session without crying. 

“Feel free to express yourself, Nick, I’m here to support you without judgement,” Ximena said, nodding to a box of tissues on the end table. Nick instead used his hands to wipe the tears away.

“Tell me more about these people who care about you,” she added.

“Well, um, my mum. She lives in Kent and I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like,” Nick started. “My agents, Tara and Darcy. And my flatmate Sai — Sai Verma, he’s on the team — and his girlfriend Imogen, they don’t seem to be scared off by my personality. And then Charlie.”

“Your boyfriend,” Ximena said as she took notes. “How long have you been together?”

Nick huffed out a laugh, but it warbled out of his shaky chest. 

“That’s a complicated question. Officially, since Christmas. Erm. I’m bisexual, by the way.”

Ximena looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Her eyes flickered over to her desk, just briefly, and when Nick followed her gaze he noticed for the first time a lesbian pride flag tucked into her pencil holder. Well, well, well. He wondered how many straight teammates had traipsed through here and never even realised it was a pride flag.

“I’m looking at this list, Nick. Your mum, your agents, your friends, your boyfriend. It sounds to me like that’s a lot of people who see something in you that they like,” Ximena said. “Do you think they’re all good judges of character?”

Oh, she was crafty. But Nick wasn’t going to be tricked into liking himself. 

He sighed. “Yes, but it’s only a matter of time before they realise how fucked up I am. Er, I mean, um, you know, broken. Sorry.”

Ximena smiled. “You can curse if you like. Actually, there’s research demonstrating that cursing alleviates stress and even increases our tolerance for physical pain.”

“Oh. Cool.” Now that he’d been given permission to, Nick’s urge to curse had tailed off. He was sure it would be back sooner or later.

“Maybe we should start at the beginning,” Ximena replied when Nick didn’t speak any further. “You said you feel angry a lot. Do you think you’ve always been angry?”

Nick took a long breath and began talking. For a long time. About his childhood, about his father leaving and never looking back, about his brother bullying him in response, and everything else that had happened up until his anger management issues led him to Charlie.

They were pretty well into the hour when he’d finished summing up his whole life for Ximena.

“It sounds like you connect a lot of your anger back to your father leaving. It’s a good thing, actually, that you’re already looking at this holistically,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete idiot,” Nick shot back.

“I know that. But I bet you’ve found that knowing the source of your anger isn’t doing anything to help you address it.”

Nick sighed and nodded. 

“Two things. First, your focus on your father may have prevented you from seeing another major trauma in your life: The bullying from your brother.”

“Lots of people have arsehole sibling, it’s not a mental health emergency,” Nick replied.

“True,” Ximena said. “But what you described, Nick, isn’t your garden variety sibling conflict.”

“What is it then?”

“Abuse. You were emotionally and verbally abused over a long period of time, during a very formative part of your life. Anyone would develop trauma symptoms after that.”

Trauma? Nick had trauma? He liked this woman, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the notion that a few mean words from his brother had fucked him up so badly. Trauma was a big word to be throwing about, for people who were attacked or in accidents or something. 

“Our time is almost up, so instead of diving deeper today, why don’t we both agree to reflect on what I’ve said until next week. I’d like to meet with you weekly, Nick, if that’s okay with you?”

He nodded.

“Great,” she said. “Healing is going to take time, but just to start, in our last few minutes I’d like to teach you just a little coping technique. Don’t let the name scare you, but we call it cognitive restructuring.”

Nick chortled.

“What’s funny?” Ximena asked, looking up.

“Sorry, it’s just… one of the first things Charlie taught me was cognitive restructuring. I actually hated him so much back then.”

Finally, Ximena’s eyes widened at something Nick had said. Took the whole hour, but he got there in the end. She asked Nick to describe what he’d learned.

“Okay, that’s a solid first step,” Ximena said when he was done. “It sounds like you already have some coping tools, which is good, but eventually I’d like to get you to a point where you don’t need to simply cope to get through the day. Maybe we should talk more next time about what else Charlie has taught you. And about your relationship. It sounds… interesting.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You don’t know the half of it, doc.”

 

***

 

A few weeks later, the harsh winter weather defrosted slightly into spring. 

The Blackbirds were doing well, rolling up the league roster, and Nick and Charlie were doing well, slowly and carefully continuing to integrate into one another’s lives. Nick had taken to hanging out at Cuppa’s sometimes when Charlie had a late shift, pretending to read a book and sip some coffee but mostly just surreptitiously watching the most beautiful man go about his work.

A couple of times now, Nick had waited at the ice cream parlour near Hope Public Relations and treated his boyfriend to a snack. Not once yet had Charlie been able to actually use his gift certificate from Christmas.

And of course there were the home games, which Charlie now attended every time with Imogen. Nick tried to ignore the little lump in his throat upon seeing those curls (underneath his baseball cap, which Nick was never getting back), but Sai was the most vocally happy about Charlie’s presence. Apparently just by being there, Charlie kept the rest of the players’ wives and girlfriends from circling Imogen like sharks with their flasks, so Sai’s sexual escapades remained more or less private.

Nick could only imagine what would happen if those ladies ever got Charlie drunk. The things he could say…

There was good news from Tara and Darcy as well.

“You’ve been getting a good amount of earned media and making a lot of buzz on social media with your youth charity work,” Darcy said, rolling through a slideshow with some recent examples. 

Nick had attended a few youth clinics — including one at Robin’s school, cementing his place as the coolest kid in his year — and was set to be the celebrity emcee of an auction benefiting youth sports in the city next month. 

“The organisers said ticket sales jumped after they announced you would be there,” Tara said. 

“Also your ‘rugby prince’ merch is moving at a brisk pace,” Darcy said. “You’ll find a nice little bundle of profits deposited in your bank account tomorrow.”

“Really?” Nick sat up. 

“Yeah, a few hundred quid from last month,” Darcy replied. “Why? What do you need cash for?”

He’d been wanting to take Charlie out on a date, even if they couldn’t hold hands or kiss in public. But they’d been playing it off as platonic friends for a while, and it was likely no one would even notice them together anyway. But this promise of a little extra income was giving Nick ideas about treating Charlie to a really nice dinner or something.

“Just… you know…”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna blow it on Charlie, aren’t you?” Tara said, sitting upright.

“Yeah, and then he’s gonna pay for a nice dinner,” Darcy added with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Nick moaned, but it was too late — the two women were squealing and slapping him on the arms. He knew what they could be like — he was just going to have to weather their lesbian excitement.

“Where are you gonna take him?” Tara asked. 

“Three Stones? 1609? Hetty's Tavern?” Darcy said, not even waiting for Nick to speak up.

“I don’t know yet!” Nick yelped. “I haven’t planned that far ahead. And I didn’t know I’d have this extra money so I wasn’t even thinking that high end.”

“Just make sure to treat him right,” Darcy replied. “That Charlie is a prince if he puts up with you.”

Nick huffed a long breath in agreement. He knew he was beyond lucky.

“All right, all right, changing the subject,” Tara said. “I had an interesting call the other day. From someone at the Blue Hens."

Nick sat up. Hello. 

"And?"

"They made a few inquiries about your prospects. Where you were interested. Whether anyone else has been sniffing around."

"What did you tell them?"

"That you're open to moving anywhere, and that there have been a few other nibbles."

Nick stared at Tara. "Was that true?"

"Yeah," Tara replied. "You said you're willing to move for a nice fat signing bonus."

Nick grumbled. "You know I meant about the other part."

"Yesss," Tara said, drawing out the sound as she grinned. "It is true. I've also heard from the Orcas and the Stoats."

Nick's jaw dropped. 

"You've got interest from land, air and sea, baby!" Darcy cried out.

"I don't think blue hens can fly, though," Tara said.

"Shush, you," Darcy replied. "Let him have his moment."

Nick really was having a moment. He had been so scared that he’d be persona non grata in the league after everything that had happened last year, the dregs, lucky to get any offer from anyone. Now the Blackbirds were hovering in the top five teams, his merch was moving once again and at least three good teams were sniffing around, even with a couple months left before bidding season officially opened.

There was truly only one person to thank for that: Charlie Spring. 

Conversely — and this is where Nick’s stomach dropped — Nick couldn’t help but think that if his relationship with Charlie went public, all this would be dashed on the rocks. It made him angry. Why the fuck was it anyone else’s business who he lo — fucked? What did that have to do with his athletic abilities? It was so screwed up.

Maybe after he was signed to a contract… once he was secure, settled. Then it might be worth the risk. 

 

***

 

Nick swallowed and tried to let go of the nervous energy buzzing through his chest and biceps. He’d been on dates before; why was this one leaving him so stricken? Picking up Charlie at home had been Nick’s idea, rather than meeting at the restaurant. It felt more… romantic. And so much of their relationship had been behind closed doors. Nick wanted to make this first official date-date special.

He knocked, and a few moments later the door swung open to reveal Charlie’s lanky roommate, Tao. He gave Nick an unaffected onceover.

“Hello, Nicholas.”

“Hi… Tao,” Nick said, gingerly stepping over the threshold and entering the apartment.

The two men stood awkwardly, music leaking through from Charlie’s bedroom.

“So… how have you been?” Despite being at Charlie’s flat many times, Nick had only run into Tao on a handful of occasions. Charlie had said the first time he came over that he spent most of his time at a girlfriend’s place. Elle, Nick recalled. Which meant that he had virtually no relationship with his boyfriend’s flatmate. 

Charlie had told his friends about Nick a few weeks earlier, after promising Nick they would keep the secret. It had stressed Nick out, but after sleeping on it, he knew that Charlie deserved to tell the people in his life, too. Nick still didn’t have any idea how he could come out and still play professional rugby, but he was determined to do whatever it took not to be a toxic shit in the meantime.

“Fine. You?” Tao replied curtly.

“All right.”

They stood uncomfortably for a few moments. Nick was about to speak up to ask if he was meant to knock on Charlie’s door when suddenly said door opened, a Strokes song flooding out around the tall, elegant woman who was backing out of the doorway.

“You can keep fiddling around, but I’m telling you, boy toy is going to be gagged and gooped when he sees—”

She stopped speaking suddenly when she spotted Nick standing there. The woman — Elle, Nick guessed — blinked at him few times.

“When he sees that it’s time to collect you,” she said through the entry before pulling Charlie’s door closed.

“Hi,” Nick said, sticking out his hand. “You must be Elle. It’s really nice to meet you, I’ve heard a little about you.”

She gave him a much longer onceover than Tao had. Nick’s date outfit was simple, but stylish: black slacks, with a simple white tee under a light grey jumper, with a matching grey cardigan. It was a new purchase, part of his little merch windfall. Imogen and Sai had dragged him to half a dozen stores, treating him like their own personal Ken doll, before they had landed on this for his date. Polished but not ostentatious; a statement, not a manifesto.

Elle finished scrutinising him, then took Nick’s outstretched hand, her grip soft and graceful. 

“All good things, I hope,” she replied.

“Oh, absolutely, Charlie always says the best things about you,” Nick said with a smile. “Tao, on the other hand…”

He and Elle chuckled. Tao scowled. 

The music coming from Charlie’s room cut off suddenly, and Nick and Elle both turned as his door opened.

Nick's eyes raked over his date. Charlie was wearing dark skinny jeans, though this time without the usual slashes in the denim. He had on a blue-and-white striped nautical-style shirt under an unbuttoned white button down, topped with a navy jacket.

Charlie’s hair was always perfect, but somehow tonight it was even moreso. Perfectly formed curls worked with Charlie’s ears to frame his face so that one’s eyes were inevitably drawn to his cerulean eyes and red, pouty lips. 

Nick realised he hadn’t taken a breath in a bit.

“Hi,” he said softly. “You look… wow.”

“Hi,” Charlie replied. “You also look wow.”

Nick smiled. “I am officially gagged and gooped.”

He saw out of the corner of his eye Elle raise her hand to her mouth, though Nick knew even just minutes after meeting her that she was far too confident a person to really be embarrassed at being overheard. Charlie just blushed and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Are you ready?” Nick asked.

Charlie nodded.

“All right you two, home by midnight,” Elle teased. 

“Yes, mum,” Charlie joked back.

“And use protection!” 

“Jesus, Elle!”

Nick smirked privately. Little did Elle know they’d each gone to get tested and had come back clean. He was sort of hoping tonight might be their first time sans condom.

But first, the date.

Outside Charlie’s building, Nick hailed an Uber Black, just a few minutes away.

“You look really nice tonight,” Nick said as they stood waiting. “Uh — not that you don’t always look nice, but like, you know what I mean.”

“Thanks,” Charlie replied. “You look nice, too. And no, you don’t always look nice.”

Nick squawked in mock protest.

“I’ve seen you after a game, all sweaty and gross and covered in bits of grass.”

Nick casually stepped closer into Charlie’s personal space.

“I thought you liked how I looked after a game.”

Charlie looked up at Nick. “Oh, I do. But you still don’t look nice.” 

The teasing was quiet, and Nick could feel heat passing between them. They locked eyes, and Nick couldn’t tell how much time elapsed. The world, the pavement and the passing cars and people down the block, all of it faded away. All that was left was Charlie, looking up, his head moving almost imperceptibly toward him.

“Ride for Nick?”

Nick closed his eyes for a second, ever so slightly frustrated at the interruption, and turned. There was the Uber Black they’d ordered. Nick nodded at the driver, who turned back and rolled up his window.

“Oh wow,” Charlie said. “This is…”

“I just wanted tonight to be special,” Nick said. “It’s what you deserve.”

He stepped over and opened the door. There had been a little voice in the back of his mind that said guys don’t open car doors for just friends, but he kicked it in the nuts to shut it up. They were going to be holding back plenty out in public tonight, he could let the smaller chivalries happen without overthinking it.

Charlie climbed in and scooted across to the other seat. Nick followed, they greeted the driver and they were off. This was nicer than the regular Uber drives, Nick quickly realised. The vehicle smelled clean and the driver was playing classical music, just loud enough to break up the silences but not so loud Nick and Charlie couldn’t talk easily. Not that they could talk freely, either, but still.

“So have you ever been to the Front Burner before?” Charlie asked as the city slipped past them. 

“No, I haven’t. Darcy recommended it.” 

Nick looked out his side window for a minute before turning and looking at Charlie, who was equally busy staring out his own window. Nick looked down between them, where Charlie’s hand rested palm down on the seat. Nick lowered his own hand, letting it hover over Charlie’s. There was the usual warmth he felt in proximity to Charlie, which Nick knew now had nothing to do with body heat. But he also felt a tingling sensation, like tiny lightning bolts were spewing from his fingertips. 

Be brave.

Do it now, when no one can see. Be BRAVE.

Nick braced himself, then lowered his hand to rest atop Charlie’s. His boyfriend turned and looked down at their hands, then back up at Nick, then back at their hands. He smiled, and rotated his hand so the palm faced up before slotting his fingers in between Nick’s and gripped back. They shared joyful little grins quietly in the backseat as the car sped on.

Finally, they pulled up at the restaurant. Nick very much wanted to extend his hand for Charlie to brace himself as he stepped out, but he held back, and Charlie was just fine, of course. Nick quickly realised how much he missed the little things about being on a date. If he’d been out with a woman, he’d have offered his hand without thought. Now, it was a whole crisis, right there on the pavement.

The hostess quickly seated them at their reserved table, the kind where one seat was part of a padded bench along the wall and the other chair faced inward. Nick was pleased to see it was fairly secluded, only a few other tables and diners able to see them directly. He wasn’t totally trying to hide, but the less chance of someone snapping a pic on their phone, the better. 

“So, do you already know what you’re going to order?” Nick asked as he cracked open the menu. Charlie had asked Nick to send him the Front Burner’s menu a few days before. 

“Not exactly, but it’s narrowed down,” Charlie said.

Their server arrived just then.

“Good evening, I’m Iris. How are you both tonight?”

Nick observed her as they exchanged greetings and ordered some wine. If she recognized Nick, or had clocked that they were on a date and not just mates out for dinner, Iris didn’t let on.

“Can I get you started with anything while you peruse the menu?” Iris asked.

“Erm,” Nick said. “Maybe. What is burrata?”

“Burrata is basically a ball of mozzarella wrapped around a creamy core of curds,” Iris replied. “If you’re looking at the heirloom tomato salad, I highly recommend it. And it would be perfect for sharing.”

Nick looked at Charlie, his eyebrows raised, and Charlie grinned and nodded back.

“Let’s try that, then, please, thank you.”

“Very good, I’ll get that out shortly.”

Iris bustled away and Nick turned back to Charlie. 

“Sorry — did you want to order something else?”

“No sorries,” Charlie replied softly. “I just hadn’t anticipated — that you’d want to share something.”

“Well… I do,” Nick replied. “I like sharing with you.”

Whoops. Little too sentimental there. Nick quickly busied himself with the menu, holding it up enough to block Charlie from his eyeline. Never had the description of a pork chop fascinated him so.

After a minute, the burning in his cheeks had dissipated. Nick lowered the menu and looked at Charlie, who was glancing about the restaurant behind him.

“So, do you always look at the menu before going somewhere? Do you have an allergy or sensitivity?” 

Charlie shook his head. “It’s silly, but… I just like knowing what the options are ahead of time. Less to think about in the moment. I’m sure it sounds neurotic.”

“It doesn’t,” Nick replied.

“Well, this will,” Charlie said. “When I was a boy, I used to have this thing in my brain where I couldn’t order the same thing as someone else at the table. So I had to have a backup in case someone ordered what I wanted. And a second backup in case someone ordered my first backup. I’ve — I’m better now, I don’t feel that compulsion anymore. But I can’t really explain it.”

“It’s not so strange,” Nick replied. “So, did you decide, then?”

“Yeah, the portabella napoleon.”

Nick glanced down. A grilled vegetable dish. He’d been leaning toward the shrimp scampi, but he would have changed his order if that’s what Charlie had selected. 

Iris returned then with their wine and the heirloom tomato and burrata starter. After they placed their orders and Iris left, Nick found the salad was bursting with colour and flavour. 

“Oh my god, she wasn’t kidding, that’s creamy AF,” Nick said, sliding another spoonful of burrata into his mouth.

“Did you just say ‘AF’ out loud?” Charlie asked, gawping at Nick.

“Oh,” Nick blushed, “er, yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Charlie replied quietly. “It was cute.”

Nick didn’t know what to say, so he speared some more tomato into his mouth to keep it busy.

“So,” Charlie said, “tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

Nick thought as he chewed. “Umm… like what?”

“Like… what was it like growing up bilingual?”

Nick shrugged. “I didn’t think much about it, to be honest. I guess I didn’t realise most other kids only spoke English at home.”

“Does your mum speak French, too?”

“Enough to get by. Although it’s probably gone rusty. She only spoke to us in English after dad scarpered.”

Charlie hummed and ate another bite of tomato.

“Can I ask you… why does the fact that I can speak French turn you on so much?”

Charlie squeaked. “It doesn’t! Not like that!”

“Oh, really?” Nick smirked. “Shall we put that to the test?”

“Nicholas Nelson, don’t you—”

“C'est juste une autre langue, Charlie. En quoi est-ce important?”

Charlie took a sharp breath through his nose and gripped the table with one hand. Good lord, this was almost too easy.

“Seriez-vous aussi excité si je connaissais l'allemand ou la langue des signes?”

“Ten cuidado, Nick,” Charlie replied. Whoa. Spanish? What was happening? “Dos pued… pueden jugar… este juego.” His speech was halting, and he was clearly working things out as he spoke, but he was indeed speaking Spanish.

“Well, well, well,” Nick said, tilting his head playfully. “I see you have some tricks up your sleeve.”

“Got a B on my Spanish A-levels, thank you very much,” Charlie said. “Obviously I’m nowhere near as talented as you. I still have to translate everything in my head back and forth. You… it sounds like you can think in French, too.”

Nick popped the last bit of tomato into his mouth.

“Mmm… I never thought about it like that. I guess maybe I can.” He leaned back in his seat. “But to be honest, I’m getting a little rusty. That little exchange the other week was the most French I’ve spoken in a few years.”

“Oh dearrrrr.” Charlie made a point of drawing out the final letter before slowly licking the residual balsamic glaze from his fork, eyeing Nick the whole time. “Maybe we’ll have to repeat that more, then.”

Nick fucking shivered in his seat as he felt his cock twitch. It wasn’t fair that Charlie could do things like this to him so easily, calmly. 

God, as Charlie blinked at Nick, he was already starting to feel something down there. They hadn’t even made it to the entree and Charlie was getting Nick worked up. He well and truly had Nick by the short hairs, and Nick wasn’t complaining.

Oh, wait. That pressure Nick was feeling — it was less to do with arousal and more with needing to pee. The male body is strange sometimes.

“I just need to, uh, powder my nose,” Nick said, standing and wiping his hands down the front his trousers. He ignored Charlie smirking at him as he wobbled away.

Nick relieved himself and washed his hands. The restaurant’s soap smelled like almonds on his hands; Nick brought his knuckles to his face and breathed in deeply. Charlie’s curls… He smiled and returned to the table.

When he rounded the corner, Nick stopped short. Someone was standing by their table, talking to Charlie. Perhaps someone he knew. Nick pushed down the anxiety that bubbled up; they had talked about describing each other as friends if approached.

But something was off. Charlie. Charlie looked tiny. He was hunched over, his head hanging low even as he looked up at the person standing — looming — over him.

Oh fuck. It was Ben Fucking Hope. Charlie’s ex, the guy who had abused him and taken advantage of him and been an all-around selfish prick. What the fuck was he doing here? Nick’s hands formed into fists and his biceps bulged against the fabric of his sleeves. Nick would like nothing more than to walk over there, grab Ben by the hair on his head and drag him into the kitchen for some quality time with the deep fryer. But this wasn’t a situation where violence would help either of them. A pity.

Nick stuffed his strongest instincts back inside him and marched over, finally getting close enough to make out what Ben was saying.

“... Just tell me who he is, Charlie. Who are you here with? I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You’ve been distant for months. You never gave me a proper chance —”

“Hello, Ben.”

Nick spoke firmly, and Ben did a double take when he noticed who was standing beside him.

“Oh! Nick Nelson, hello,” Ben said, holding out one hand, probably on instinct. Nick crossed his arms over his chest pointedly. 

Ben’s face flashed with confusion before he paused for a moment and realisation set in.

“Y — You’re here with Charlie,” Ben said looking back and forth between them.

“I am,” Nick said pedaling their prepared cover story. “We’re discussing upcoming charity dates.”

Charlie remained seated with his head bowed. Nick’s heart was tearing, but he had to deal with Ben first. He couldn’t let on that this was more than a business arrangement.

“Really?” Ben said, his voice full of incredulity. “At the Front Burner?”

“Well, Charlie’s been doing exceptional work. I’m extremely satisfied,” Nick said, clapping Ben on the back when he really wanted to put him in a headlock and drag his arse out the front door. “But, we were just in the middle going over details about the auction, so we should really get back to it. I’m sure Charlie will run it all past you next week.”

Ben looked between them a couple more times, confusion smeared across his face. He opened his mouth to speak; Nick wondered what it was going to be. But he never got a chance to find out.

“Is everything all right, sir?”

It was Iris, their meals balanced on one arm.

Nick turned to look at her, and she seemed to pick up on the tension.

“Yes, Iris, my friend here was just leaving.”

Ben was clearly unclear what to think, which delighted Nick more in the fact that he was a true twatwaffle and idiot supreme than the fact that it seemed he wasn’t jumping to any conclusions about their relationship. 

If Nick hadn’t been so on edge, he might have laughed. He once delighted in watching Ben needle Charlie, make him cower, threaten to fire him. Now it was taking most of Nick’s willpower not to pummel him into the ground just for looking at Charlie.

After a few seconds that stretched on forever, Ben huffed, mumbled a goodbye, turned on his heel and wandered away toward the front of the restaurant. Nick released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. 

“Sir, is anything wrong?” Iris asked when Ben was out of sight.

Satisfied that Ben had left, Nick finally looked back at Charlie. He was nearly catatonic except for the tremors in his hands that rattled his fork and knife against one another slightly. Nick knew immediately that date night couldn’t continue like nothing had happened.

He pulled out his wallet and handed Iris his credit card.

“I’d like to pay my bill, quickly, please,” he said. “And if you could ask for a taxi to be called.”

“Right away,” Iris said, zipping off.

Nick sat on the bench beside Charlie, saying a quick thanks that the table beside them was unoccupied. He reached out, took one of Charlie’s shaking hands between his own and spoke calmly and quietly.

“He’s gone now, Char. He left. How about I take you home, okay?”

Charlie managed to look in Nick’s direction and nod lightly. 

They sat together for another minute or so, with Nick keeping an eye on the entrance just in case, before Iris scrambled back. Nick quickly signed the receipt, leaving Iris a huge tip, before she handed him a small bag.

“I took the liberty of packing up your meals,” she said. “And I asked the taxi to pick you up behind our kitchen, I thought you might prefer —”

“That’s great, thank you,” Nick said, standing. One of his hands still grasped Charlie’s, and Nick decided to keep them clasped as they walked out the back. People were going to see — other diners, kitchen staff — but he simply couldn’t sever his lifeline to Charlie right now.

They manoeuvred through the restaurant and the kitchen before reaching the back door into an alleyway, where a taxi was waiting as promised. Nick was impressed; he didn’t leave Iris a big enough tip, it turns out.

“Thank you,” he said simply as he clambered into the cab after Charlie.

He’s pretty sure Iris said something in return, but he didn’t hear it. After giving the driver Charlie’s address, Nick returned all his focus to his boyfriend as the taxi trundled off into the night.

It wasn’t anywhere near as elegant as the Uber Black ride — annoying pop music was blasting out of the speakers and the driver didn’t seem to understand that one typically decelerated before a sharp turn — but Nick thought the driver could have two heads and be a giraffe and Charlie wasn’t going to notice. He was curled up in his seat, head leaning against the window but his eyes staring blankly.

Nick didn’t know what to do, really. He hardly wanted to open things up here in the taxi. So he settled for holding Charlie’s hand and trying with all his might to sponge up whatever horrible things were happening inside Charlie. 

After what felt like an eternity, they arrived back at Charlie’s flat. Nick quickly peeled off some cash for the driver, but it wasn’t fast enough for Charlie, who took off like a cheetah the second the cab had come to a complete stop. Nick barely remembered to grab their food as he followed, only just catching the entry door before it closed behind Charlie as he hustled up the stairs. 

It was only because Charlie fumbled with his set of keys at his front door that Nick was able to catch up. He kept struggling, the metal jangling loudly in the quiet hallway. Tears were streaking down Charlie’s face.

“Here, Charlie, I got you, I got it,” Nick murmured as he slowly moved to take the keys out of Charlie’s hands. Charlie relinquished them and then fell against Nick, now sobbing into his cardigan, his hands clenching the fabric between his fingers. Nick set down the bag with the food in it and wrapped his great arms around Charlie, enveloping him in safety. 

His whole body shook against Nick, who was fighting off his own tears at this point. He kept one arm pressing Charlie firmly against him, while the hand free of keys came up to gently card through the hair on the back of Charlie’s head. 

The worst of it lasted a couple of minutes, although it felt much longer. Nick was worried Tao was going to burst through the door and go mama bear on Nick’s arse, but he heard nothing; perhaps he and Elle had gone out. 

Charlie appeared to have gotten out the worst of it. He pulled back; Nick looked down through watery eyes as the wet spot left on his cardigan. Charlie’s head remained bent, but he was no longer sobbing, and Nick could see his breathing had regulated a bit. He reached over and inserted the key into Charlie’s lock, swinging the door open. 

The living room was dark; Tao and Elle did actually go out, it seems. They walked through and the door shut behind them, cutting off the corridor light and leaving only the street lamps’ yellow haze beaming through the windows.

“You should put that food in the fridge,” Charlie said, the first thing he’d said since Nick had gone to the bathroom at the Front Burner. It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes, but it felt like an eternity since his lilting voice had graced Nick’s ears. Even that mundane statement was like music after so much silence.

Nick did so, and turned to see Charlie had already retreated into his bedroom — but left the door wide open. He took that as a good sign, and walked over to the entryway. 

Charlie had shed the blazer and white button-down, now donning just the striped shirt and his jeans as he lay on his bed, face up. Nick slipped off his own cardigan and tossed it on a chair. 

“Can I join you?”

Charlie was still for a few seconds before he rolled away from Nick.

“Will you hold me?” he asked, so quietly that Nick almost missed it.

“Oh course, baby,” Nick said, immediately moving over to the bed and sidling up behind Charlie. Nick crooked his arm across Charlie’s torso, where Charlie gripped it in one hand and pressed it against his chest. Charlie’s heartbeat pulsed against his palm, still running rather high for Nick’s liking but slowing bit by bit as they lay there. 

Ten or fifteen minutes had passed before Charlie finally started to calm down, softening into Nick’s front. Nick’s mind raced the whole time, rerunning the incident in his head again and again and again. At first, he thought over whether Ben had put two and two together, or at least gotten a whiff of the truth. But Nick quickly moved past that and worried about Charlie. 

He had told Nick about his history with Ben. Or, well, the Sparks Notes version, at least. Enough to know it hadn’t been at all healthy for Charlie. Not that Nick could pretend he was a very healthy individual to be with. He tried to make up for his shortcomings, but it was never enough.

Sensing Charlie had come around enough to listen, Nick spoke up.

“Charlie… I’m so sorry.”

Charlie sniffled against his wrist.

“What are you sorry for?” he warbled, his nose obviously stuffed. “It’s not like you invited Ben.”

“God, no!” Nick said, tugging Charlie closer. “I meant I’m sorry because I called Ben my friend back there.”

“I… don’t remember that,” Charlie replied.

“It was just to the waitress. I was trying to get Ben to leave without a fuss. I’m so sorry, Charlie — I need you to know that I would never be friends with Ben, not after what he did to you.”

Nick felt Charlie shake again beneath him and figured it was another crying jag. But after a few seconds, Nick realised Charlie was… giggling? Only very lightly, but still — that was laughter.

Charlie spun around so he was lying facing Nick, his face still wet with tears but a grin breaking through and showing off his trademark dimple. Without thinking, Nick reached out and tucked an errant curl back into place. He’d never been a big museum guy, but Nick knew now that was a good thing. Clearly he couldn’t stop himself from touching the masterpieces. 

“That’s so sweet, but I really wasn’t worried,” Charlie said. “You clearly only liked Ben back when we hated each other. I certainly didn’t think some stray remark tonight indicated differently.”

Charlie reached out and laid one palm across Nick’s cheek. “Silly goose.”

Nick chuckled in return, and they settled back into solemnity for a while.

“How did Ben know where you were?” Nick asked after a bit. 

Charlie sighed.

“The only thing I can think is he saw it on my work calendar. I put ‘Front Burner’ on so I’d know not to take a shift at Cuppa’s tonight.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “You think he reads your calendar? That’s so invasive.”

Charlie closed his eyes. “Probably my email, too. Good thing we don’t email much.”

“He can’t see your phone, right?” Nick asked. “And… you know… those pictures I sent.”

Charlie smirked. “Oh no, those are safe in a password protected folder.”

Nick shuffled closer. “And what, pray tell, is the password?”

Charlie hesitated for a second. Nick was about to countermand his question, tell Charlie not to answer, but then he spat it out.

“Aftercare.”

“Oh, well then,” Nick said. “Ben’s never cracking that one. That's not in his vocabulary!”

That silly joke is what cracked the dam. They each held it together for several seconds before descending into guffaws. Nick felt like he hadn’t laughed, really deeply laughed, in a long time. Catharsis flowed through him. For the first time since he saw Ben’s face that night, Nick knew they’d be okay. Though he’d have plenty to discuss with Ximena. 

Nick leaned in slowly and nuzzled his nose against Charlie. Pretty soft shit, but it turns out that’s who Nick was deep down, and more and more he was starting to actually like that.

They lay quietly, brushing fingers over one another and just being contentedly, until Charlie’s stomach rumbled — loudly. 

“Oh my!” Nick exclaimed with exaggeration.

Charlie blushed. “Oh, shut up!” 

“Sounds like someone could use some din-din,” Nick said in a gentle, teasing tone. “Can I heat up someone’s din-din?”

“Yes, please!” Charlie called back. “Can I eat it off your chest?”

“Charles!” Nick said as he stood. “I’m starting to think I’m just a dinner plate to you!”

Charlie just giggled and flopped back on the bed as Nick stood and straightened his trousers. The crack that had formed in his heart seeing Charlie reduced to near comatose was on its way to healing. Nick just had to hope that whatever was happening to Charlie’s own heart was on its way to healing as well.

Notes:

Henry: Hmm… this chapter outline could come up short. And there’s no smut! Better add a little something.
5,000 extremely kinky words later: Okay, time to start the actual chapter.
Also Henry: Holy crap why is this the longest chapter yet?

French translations:

Tu as l'air si sexy quand tu baises ma poitrine.
You look so sexy when you fuck my chest.

J'adore regarder ton ventre bouger d'avant en arrière quand tu fléchis les bras.
I love watching your belly move back and forth when you flex your arms.

Un jour, je prendrai toute ta bite dans mon cul, ouias, Charlie.
Someday I'll take your whole dick in my ass, yeah, Charlie.

Tu es la plus belle personne que j'ai jamais rencontrée... Je pense que je t'aime tellement.
You are the most beautiful person I have ever met...I think I'm in love with you.

Viens pour moi, Charlie. Sois mon bon garçon.
Come for me, Charlie. Be my good boy.

***

C'est juste une autre langue, Charlie. En quoi est-ce important?
It's just another language, Charlie. Why does it matter?

Seriez-vous aussi excité si je connaissais l'allemand ou la langue des signes?
Would you be this aroused if I knew German or sign language?

Chapter 20

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Nick cooked for Valentine's Day, but Charlie made dessert. Nick tried some therapy and got some interest from other teams. They go on a date, but someone unpleasant shows up.

This time: Charlie travels to an away game, giving him and Nick time together in another city.

Notes:

He is my life, my shining star, and I can never properly articulate how much I appreciate and adore beta reader KitSaidOui.

A grin was plastered across Nick’s face as he arrived back at his cubby, sweaty and gross and in need of some paracetamol, but feeling ecstatic. It had been a great practice — even Harry had done well and not been an annoying arse — and he had a pasta-making date with Charlie that evening after his Cuppa’s shift. Nick may or may not have been planning to stand behind Charlie and reach around him to demonstrate how to knead the dough; just thinking about wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and resting his chin in the crook of his neck had Nick’s blood pumping again.

His thoughts were interrupted when Otis and Christian stopped by.

“Oi, Nick, we’re grabbing a drink after we clean up — you in?”

It was a few hours until Charlie would be off, and Sai was off to another Magic: The Gathering tournament, so Nick was free, and he surprisingly found himself wanting to spend time with the lads. Though, not all the lads, even if one had been well behaved today.

“Who’s in?” Nick asked.

“How about just us,” Otis replied. “I feel like keeping the circle tight tonight, you know?”

Nick smiled. “Sounds good. I’m in.”

“Yes, mate!” Christian yelped, slapping Nick on the shoulder. “It’s been too long!”

They shvitzed, showered and shot out of there to a nearby pub, sliding into a booth in the back without drawing much attention as they passed. It was a weeknight and relatively quiet, perfect conditions for being able to actually hear one another talk.

As frequently tended to happen at these sort of hangouts, the first 20 minutes or so were shop talk before Otis put his foot down and said no more rugby. Their giant plate of nachos arrived and the topic switched first to football, and then the ever-growing puzzlement that is pickleball.

“All right, lads, personal life updates, please,” Otis said as they were polishing off the last of the now-soggy nachos. “Christian, you first.”

“Oh, well, my mum has started her spring planting,” Christian began. “She says this is the year her roses will win the blue ribbon at the county fete, except for Tony the Braggart down the street—”

“Chris,” Otis interrupted firmly. “Chris, Chris, Chris. You beautiful idiot. I wasn’t asking about your mum’s flowers. I want to know about your love life. Give me the goss. You know how being captain means too much admin time and no dating time, so my single arse is living vicariously through the rest of you.”

Nick grinned. Christian’s thickness really was a never ending delight to behold.

Christian hummed. “Well, er. There is this girl I’ve been seeing, Gemma. But I can’t seem to close the deal.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I keep trying to Netflix and chill and… we do the Netflix part fine, but she never seems to want to move into the chill part.”

Otis rubbed his chin. “Okay, let’s think this through.”

“What kind of movies are you watching?” Nick asked.

“Nothing strange! You know, stuff like Top Gun and Marvel stuff.”

Otis and Nick groaned at the same time. Otis started banging his head on the table comically while Christian looked on, completely befuddled.

“What?” he asked.

“Netflix and chill is supposed to be romantic, sexy movies, you donut,” Nick replied.

“What?” Christian squawked. “No one ever said!”

Nick was laughing too hard, so Otis had to speak up. “It was supposed to be obvious, Chris!” 

“Oh my god,” Christian replied, slumping back in his seat, stunned. “Thank god you told me now. I was gonna suggest Lord of the Rings next!”

Nick looked away and took a swig from his glass, trying furiously not the blush. As much as he’d like to disabuse Christian of the notion that Lord of the Rings could still lead to sex, explaining he knows that because he once blasted down Charlie’s throat at the exact moment Gandalf shouted “You shall not pass!” wasn’t something he relished doing.

“So I need a romcom… like When Harry Met Sally ?”

“Chris, baby, you’re killing me,” Otis said. “For the love of god, update your references. You need something fresher than that. Something steamier. Have you heard of Red, White and Royal Blue ?”

Nick tried to keep the surprise off his face. He’d heard of it — Charlie had mentioned it to Sai and Imogen as an upcoming movie night option — but to hear his captain bring up a gay film spontaneously was throwing Nick.

Christian scrunched up his face. “No.”

“It’s about the prince of England and the American president’s son falling in love,” Otis said. “It’s super funny, and also, I don’t mind saying this… it’s fucking hot.” 

Nick’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’ve never seen a sex scene in a streaming movie that… phew,” Otis continued.

Nick guffawed before suddenly slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. This was simply… wild. Holy fuck.

“But what if Gemma’s not into… gay stuff?” Christian asked.

Otis waved his hand dismissively. “First, it’s my experience that most women are into guy-on-guy action… don’t ask me why, but then, aren’t many men into girl-on-girl? So… anyway. Second, if she’s some kind of homophobe, isn’t it better to find out sooner rather than later?”

“Fair points, Otis,” Christian replied, sipping from his beer.

This was all so strange. The lads have never discussed queer stuff before, and Nick would rather be caught dead than bring it up himself, no matter how tangentially. 

“What about you, Nick?”

“Hmm?” Nick looked up at Otis.

“Seeing anyone?”

Nick looked between Otis and Christian. Both men were looking at him neutrally.

“What? Why do you ask?”

Otis shrugged. “Because I’m nosy. And because it’s been hard to miss that you’ve a lot more… I don’t know, happy, calm—”

“Pleasant,” Christian interrupted. “Not — not that you’re ever unpleasant, mind.”

It occurred to Nick that he could just tell them. Outside of the people who already knew, Otis and Christian surely were atop the list of people he cared about and could trust. He knew them to be solid men, and they had just reaffirmed their allyship totally unprompted. This was as safe as he was ever going to feel.

But it caught in his throat.

Nick wanted to say he was bi, say that he had a boyfriend, scream about it (well, not from the rooftops or anything, but to his friends) — but he simply couldn’t make any noise come out of his throat. 

The seconds dragged on like days as they sat in silence. Otis and Christian began to fidget.

Finally, Nick forced something out.

“No — not seeing anyone, no.”

He instantly felt the shame at denying Charlie. It weighed on his chest, constricted his oesophagus, twisted his guts. He had lied about his relationship with Charlie before — like when Sai asked so many months ago if they were sleeping together. Why was this so different? Nick immediately knew the answer. Back then, he hadn’t felt this way about Charlie, not yet. And he was less comfortable being out to people, even close friends. Now, both those things had changed for the better. 

Nick ducked his eyes and stared profusely at his half-empty drink. Fuck. This actually, physically hurt. 

“Okay,” he heard Otis say. Nick didn’t look up. He was afraid if he met his friend’s eye, Otis would see everything. “Well… whatever’s making you happy… I’m glad of it. And hope it continues.”

Nick glanced away from the table.

“Yeah.”

He knew it must be suspicious as fuck, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nick didn’t know if Otis had stumbled into this or if he suspected, or fuck, if he even knew outright somehow. But it had made Nick feel like complete shit — and he knew that was his own fault, not Otis’s. He was going to have a lot to discuss with Ximena at his next appointment.

 

***

 

The next week, Nick and Sai arrived home from an afternoon workout to find their significant others cooking dinner and laughing in the cramped kitchen. 

Imogen squealed when she saw them. “Sai! Nicky!” 

“Don’t call me that,” Nick replied as she grabbed both men in a big hug. Charlie came sidling up behind her, quietly clasping Nick’s hand in his own behind Imogen’s back.

“Food’s almost done,” she said, releasing them, “but first — Charlie and I have some news.”

“Drumroll, please,” Charlie said, and Imogen began tapping the top of her breasts in compliance. “Thank you… anyway… the news is that Imogen and I have been pooling our money and we have enough now that we can both come to your next away game against the Tuna!”

“Really?” Sai asked.

Imogen and Charlie both began nodding exuberantly. Nick was also feeling a swell of excitement in his chest. He had never thought much about away games before, but ever since he and Charlie had started having sex — and ten times more since they made their relationship official — they’d become something he tried not to think about too much. Each trip meant several days away from home, far away from Charlie, too busy to really see him. Even phone calls were tricky; in the hotel, he risked being overheard by the guys. And since he was a rookie, Nick was always paired to room with Sai (in addition to the much better pay, Nick was also looking forward to his own room during away games), so finding privacy was hard, especially when Sai was doing the same dance with Imogen.

Strange to think that Charlie Fucking Spring, who he would have done almost anything to get away from at first, had become so enmeshed in his life these past months that now Nick dreaded distance between them. It made him agitated, for no good reason.

Well, not this time, at least.

In a momentary fugue, Nick grabbed Charlie and pulled him flush against his body before snogging the living daylights out of him. After a few moments, Sai and Imogen began wolf-whistling, breaking the two men apart with red splotches all over their faces.

As Nick and Charlie rearranged themselves discreetly, Imogen leaned over and whispered in Sai’s ear. He thought for a second, nodded, and then spoke.

“Consider that open invitation for a threeway to be extended to a fourway, lads.”

Nick’s jaw dropped wide open and Charlie barked with laughter.

“I — I — I’m going to put my stuff away,” Nick said, pivoting on his heel, desperate to get out of there.

“I’ll help,” Charlie said, still laughing.

“Chicken will be done in five minutes so no fucking !” Imogen called after them.

Once Charlie had closed Nick’s bedroom door behind them, they met each other’s gaze and burst out laughing again. It felt cathartic somehow, even though Nick hadn’t been feeling particularly pent up.

Mostly recovered, Charlie sauntered over toward Nick. “So you were really never tempted?” he asked. “Because I’ll be honest, Sai is fit as fuck.”

Nick shook his head. “Not really. They’re my best friends… it’s hard to imagine how that wouldn’t fuck everything up. Maybe in some other universe… but not this one.”

He stepped into Charlie’s personal space and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Nick’s hands travelled south, cupping Charlie’s juicy bum in his palms.

“Besides… no one holds a candle to Charlie Spring.”

“So cheesy,” Charlie practically whispered, their lips millimetres apart.

“You love it,” Nick replied, swooping in and capturing Charlie’s in a kiss. They snogged for a couple minutes before there was a loud banging on the door.

“Dinner’s up! I wasn’t kidding, you two better not be fucking in there!”

“Good lord, Imogen, please!” Nick shouted. 

He pulled back from Charlie and — yes, while they hadn’t been fucking, they’d been doing other precursor activities, and it was obvious. He and Charlie giggled and stood for a minute willing their erections away before they rejoined Sai and Imogen in the living area.

Imogen and Charlie described their whole clandestine operation over the meal. The crux of it was that they had managed to get a room in the same hotel — but just one.

“But we figured, you know, we could do a little unofficial roommate swap and each take one room or the other,” Charlie said.

“Either for both nights or… just the second,” Imogen added, “if you two have to follow The Rule.”

Ah yes, The Rule. The unofficial but widely known team rule that no one was allowed to have sex — or masturbate, or come in any way — 24 hours before a game. Something about keeping their hormones up and not getting too relaxed. The Rule had hampered a number of nights before home games — although Nick suspected, based on the gasps and yelps that rang through their flat after games these days, that Charlie and Imogen both appreciated the pent-up energy.

Sai and Nick exchanged looks.

“We could… still be with one another the first night,” Sai suggested. “Just not in that way.”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. 

He liked his sleepovers with Sai on the road, but a trip away with Charlie would be something special. Nick made a mental note to find other ways to make that trip special, too.

 

***

 

The day of, Nick and Sai had arrived with the rest of the team, checked out the Tuna’s stadium and visiting locker room, performed a light workout and joined everyone else for a team dinner. Everyone had opted for film night, but they had waited until a particularly captivating moment during The Incredibles to sneak out the back door and head back to their room.

A text was followed a few minutes later by a knock. Nick opened it to admit Imogen, who handed him a key card to the room several floors down she had gotten with Charlie. They had discussed who would get each room, and Sai and Imogen at first had insisted Nick and Charlie take the team-paid one since it was bigger. But Charlie had rightly pointed out it was much riskier if he were seen in that area or going into their room. Imogen still had to sneak around — girlfriends on trips were not allowed — but if caught, they wouldn’t be in any real trouble.

Nick was leaving most of his stuff in this room, where he would return in the morning to get ready, so he made sure he had his phone and charger and a few other items and then made his way downstairs.

He gave the classic “shave and a haircut” knock and was rewarded seconds later when the door ripped open. Charlie, wearing a t-shirt and joggers, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him inside, shoving him up against the door and peppering him with kisses.

“Missed you today,” he murmured in the brief moments his lips weren’t planted on Nick’s skin.

“I know, fuck, missed you too,” Nick groaned.

He let Charlie continue for a few moments until Charlie stepped closer in between his parted legs and his hip rubbed up against Nick’s quickly inflating cock. Reluctantly, Nick moved his hands up to Charlie’s face and cupped his jaw, pushing him back.

“The Rule, Char, I’m sorry, we can’t.”

Charlie smirked.

“Actually, that’s not quite accurate,” he said. “ You can’t. I, however, very much can.”

Nick’s eyes snapped up to Charlie’s, which were now inky black. Fuuuuuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.

Charlie turned, sauntered over to the bed and sat down.

“On your knees, Nelson.”

It took several seconds for Nick to regain enough coordination to comply, but finally he managed to stagger over and collapse in front of his insanely hot boyfriend. Charlie lifted his hips, and Nick took the hint and yanked his joggers down, revealing Charlie’s half-hard hog. Nick licked his lips and shivered, then looked up at Charlie through his eyelashes. Charlie nodded and Nick pounced.

He began with simple licks along the long shaft before taking Charlie’s bulbous head on his tongue. Nick roved over Charlie’s cockhead as it quickly filled with blood and arousal. Looking up, Nick saw Charlie was leaning back on his hands, his eyes clenched shut and little mewls escaping his lips. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight. Nick could weep that he and he alone was allowed to witness this.

But enough of his own pleasure. This was Charlie’s time.

Nick redoubled his oral efforts, one hand cupping Charlie’s balls and the other assisting his efforts to take in as much of the shaft as possible. Someday, Nick vowed, he was gonna lodge this thing halfway down his oesophagus, he was going to nuzzle Charlie’s pubes, he was going to take the whole damn thing.

But for now, Charlie was definitely enjoying himself.

“Oh Nick,” he moaned, one hand carding through Nick’s hair, surely badly disrupting his carefully styled coiffure. “You’re so good at this… like you were born to suck cock.”

Suck your cock, maybe, Nick thought as he glided his tongue across Charlie’s slit. He’d eaten out girls before, and they were generally appreciative, but no one had ever given him the enthusiastic response that Charlie did. He liked pleasing his partner — but it fed back through him tenfold when that partner responded so viscerally to his efforts. And Charlie responded. Not only could Nick feel every twitch, every pulse and every protruding vein along Charlie’s length along his tongue, but the little noises Charlie emitted and his roving hands, always touching Nick, were ever-present reminders of just how much he was affecting Charlie.

Nick pulled off Charlie’s cock and caught his breath. Looking up at Charlie, he gasped out: “Love sucking your cock, Charlie.”

Charlie sucked in a breath, but Nick didn’t wait for a response, instead latching back on and redoubling his efforts. He focused on getting as much of Charlie inside him as he could, and reached a very respectable depth before his gag reflex threatened to kick in.

But it was more than enough. Charlie was panting above him, one hand playing with the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck, the other holding his torso upright as he leaned back. 

Soon, Charlie’s balls began drawing up toward his shaft. Nick angled his head so he didn’t miss the show, and what a performance it was. As he crested, Charlie pinched his eyes shut and threw his head back, bellowing Nick’s name loudly over and over. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Nick was thankful they weren’t in his team-appointed room, since hearing a man shout his name in ecstasy might raise a red flag with the blokes in the adjoining rooms.

But here, Charlie could be as loud as he wished, and indeed he was. As Nick hungrily gulped down his spend, Charlie continued to cry out until he was just emitting an incoherent stream of babbling. 

Nick suddenly realised he, too, was on the precipice. He’d avoided grinding against anything, and his trousers were loose and unrestrictive — nevertheless, his whole body quivered ever so slightly. Just bringing Charlie to completion with his mouth had walked Nick up to the brink of orgasm. It would be so easy, so easy to just let go and join Charlie in blissful oblivion.

But tomorrow’s game… 

Nick summoned willpower he didn’t even know existed and stayed frozen while the near-orgasm slowly dissipated. Tiny sparks crackled along his skin; twin tears emerged from his eyeballs and slid down his cheeks. This was difficult, but he persisted. 

Finally, the buzzing subsided enough that he could move without coming to orgasm. Nick slowly let Charlie’s cock slide out of his mouth, stopping it at the head to gently lick it clean. It flopped from his mouth, and Nick lay his head down on Charlie’s thigh, just nuzzling his crotch and catching his breath.

“Oh, Nick…”

He looked up as Charlie reached down and cupped his cheek. “God, you look so wrecked right now,” Charlie said, eyes roving over his face. Nick realised it must be blotchy and wet. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I… came a little close there,” Nick said sheepishly. “But I’m okay now.”

Charlie closed his eyes. “Nick, why would you say something so fucking hot during my refractory period? It’s not fair.”

He leaned over and pulled his joggers up, clothing himself again. Nick wanted to whine in protest — Charlie would never wear clothes if Nick had his way — but it was probably for the best, to avoid temptation. Nick pulled himself up and sat beside Charlie on the bed. They turned and kissed, gently, both knowing Nick couldn’t get riled up again.

After snogging for a bit, they broke apart and cuddled, watching television until Nick needed lights out. He fell asleep with Charlie in his arms and that word — that damned word that had been haunting him for too long now — on his mind.

He awoke in the morning to his alarm, which Nick set so he’d have some morning time with Charlie and wouldn’t have to dash off immediately. He slapped around until his hand hit the snooze button; another few minutes in bed would be perfect. His arms wrapped back around Charlie, who stirred and stretched — and in the process brushed his arse against Nick’s extremely obvious morning wood.

“Well, good morning,” Charlie uttered, his voice gravelly. He thrust his hips back again, rubbing Nick’s erection just inside his cleft, and fuck, Nick needed him to not do that again or he’d go stark raving mad. 

With a groan of regret, Nick shifted himself backward and moved to sit upright against the headboard. Charlie also shuffled around until he was lying facing Nick. His hair was a mess, he had pillow lines along one cheek and sleep dust in his eyes. Fucking gorgeous. Nick wanted to see that every morning, forever.

Woof.

Anyway…

“Morning,” Nick said, caressing Charlie’s temple.

“Morning,” Charlie replied. He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Gotta pee.”

He hopped out of bed and popped into the bathroom, where Nick heard his stream hit the water, followed by a flush and the sink going. Charlie ambled back in, climbing over Nick and back to his side of the bed. 

“You don’t have to pee?” he asked.

“Erm.”

Nick squirmed. He had to pee very much. But his current situation would make that… difficult.

“Waiting for this to go down,” he said, motioning to his crotch. 

“I could… help with that, you know,” Charlie said, one hand slowly meandering closer to Nick’s cock.

“No! No,” Nick replied. “Sorry, you know I really want that but… Otis would kill me if I showed up all post-cum glow.”

Charlie made a tsk sound and sat up. “Fine. But you better do some damn dirty things to me tonight to make up for it.”

“Sounds nice,” Nick huffed.

They sat on their phones for another five minutes. But it turned out even doomscrolling Twitter or whatever the fuck it was called these days wasn’t enough to return Nick to… equilibrium. At this point, the bladder pressure was just as much to blame as the surging hormones being held captive.

“Fuck it,” Nick yelped, tossing the sheets off him and standing. “I’m gonna pee in the shower, sorry!”

Nick took care of business and cleaned up after himself, then settled with his head in Charlie’s lap, gazing up at him. They bantered about everything and nothing as Charlie played idly with his hair, the room filled with giggles as they enjoyed each other’s company.

It was a perfect morning. At least, until his second alarm went off, the one that told him he needed to get back to his room with Sai to join the rest of the team for breakfast. Nick lingered at the door, telling himself just one more kiss, just one more kiss, until Imogen snuck up behind him and shouted surprise, startling them both. It was only then Nick found the willpower to tear himself away.

It got harder every time.

 

***

 

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly, once Nick got into his groove, and the game went swimmingly, with the Blackbirds nabbing the Tuna 27-24 with an impressive last minute try orchestrated perfectly by Nick, though he ended up colliding with one of the opponents pretty severely in the process.

Christian hoisted him off the field and Nick kept one arm slung around his friend as they celebrated the win. Nick found that winning away games was a strange feeling — intense euphoria for himself and the Blackbirds, indifference or depression from everyone else in the stadium. 

Nick found his eyes roving over people lingering in the stands. Charlie and Imogen had regular tickets, of course, so he didn’t know where in the crowd to look. They were probably up in the nosebleeds, anyway — the cheap seats. 

As the team converged, Nick gasped loudly and winced.

“You all right, mate?” Otis asked, eyeing his leg. 

“Think I might have pulled something,” Nick muttered.

“All right, physio, now please,” Otis said. Christian helped him hobble inside and into the guest physio room, where the red-headed Canadian woman gave him a once-over while Otis watched.

“He’ll be all right in a day or two,” she finally reported. “But I want him to rest tonight. No clubbing, Nick.”

Nick frowned. Of course, he didn’t want to go clubbing with the lads. He wanted to be with Charlie — and he was going to be. He’d been planning a date ever since Charlie had informed him of his travel plans. 

Otis helped him hobble over to his cubby, making Nick promise he’d follow physio’s orders. No clubbing, Nick said truthfully. Just then, Otis was called away by a team official to talk to a few reporters. Nick made it through a shower before sitting back in front of his cubby in a towel. The post-game exam and his slow movements meant the rest of the team were done cleaning up by then and were about to head out. Nick wished them all a fun night, cursing his bum leg.

“Have a good time tonight,” Sai said, patting Nick on the shoulder. Of course, Nick had informed him and Imogen of his plans that night with Charlie. It was nice to be able to tell someone what he was really doing. Who he was really with. 

Sai leaned in.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he whispered so no one else would overhear.

Nick turned his head. “And what, pray tell, wouldn’t you do?”

Sai tapped his nose twice, turned and left.

A few minutes later, Nick had slipped into some athleisure wear and made his way slowly to grab a car back to the hotel. The ride was quick, the crowds thankfully having dissipated, and he limped across the lobby and into an elevator. On his floor, Nick emerged and turned toward his room. As he dragged himself down the corridor, Nick looked back and forth a couple times before smoothly segueing into a regular walk.

Opening his door, Nick flipped the switch and found Charlie lazing back on one of the beds. They’d agreed to meet up at the hotel — it was easier anyway, but also Nick could hardly have put on clubbing clothes and then not gone out with the guys.

“Congratulations on your big win,” Charlie said, sitting up. “Is your leg okay?”

“Oh, this?” Nick asked, looking down at his limb. “It’s fine. All for show.”

He kissed Charlie, then tossed down his duffel and rifled through his suitcase until he found his date night clothes. As much as he wanted to dress a little more fancy, he knew flying under the radar tonight was key, so Nick pulled out a basic pair of jeans, black t-shirt, Carhartt jacket and baseball cap. Charlie was dressed down similarly — black pants and a brown hoodie. 

“You just gonna watch me get dressed?” Nick said as he shucked his shirt.

“You’re kidding, right?” Charlie asked. “This is the best show in town. All I’m missing is a pair of opera glasses.”

Nick flushed despite himself, redness visible on his chest in addition to his neck and face. He moved quickly, lest he get distracted without clothes on and they waste their night in a strange city shacked up in the hotel room (well… they’d get to that part later). 

It was a nice evening, so they walked the ten blocks or so to their first destination, a tapas place that got great reviews online. Nick had especially noticed the review that said it was a great date destination, offering privacy as well as a tasting menu perfect for sharing.

As they walked, they passed a bookstore. It was closed at that hour, but Charlie nonetheless had to stop and peruse the offerings in the window. Nick watched him, his eyes eventually drawn to Charlie’s open hand hanging by his side. He wanted to reach out and take it, walk the rest of the way to the tapas place. But the goal tonight was to fly under the radar. So he resisted.

The tapas place was well designed and had the perfect crowd level, enough that they blended in, not so much that they were squeezed in right next to strangers. 

Nick warily eyed the menu. Everything had a description in English but the names were all in Spanish.

“Char… maybe, uh, you could order for us?” he proposed. “I’ve never had tapas before.”

Charlie smiled at him. “Of course! Hmm… let’s see. Oh, anything you don’t like?”

Nick had just been eyeing a starter dish that would be trouble.

“I don’t like olives.”

“What — really?”

“Yeah. Yuck.”

“Well, I bloody love olives.”

“Great,” Nick said, continuing to scan the menu. “Then you can have mine forever.”

He kept reading and made it to the end of the "embutidos," whatever that meant, before he realised Charlie was looking at him strangely. 

“What? I know it probably means I have an immature palate or something but I honestly just don’t like olives!”

Charlie quirked his head. “I… no, that’s okay. No olives. Got it.”

The waiter arrived soon after. Charlie put in for a half pitcher of sangria with cava, which he explained was like Spanish prosecco, as well as three or four dishes. Nick was helplessly lost following along except for the “patatas bravas” one.

When the sparkling sangria arrived, Charlie taught Nick to say “salud” before they sipped the sweet, carbonated drink. They sipped the sangria, commented on its flavour, and then just sat silently, staring into one another’s eyes and grinning. Nick didn’t know exactly what Charlie was thinking, but the promise of a night out where they could actually be together in some semi-public way (and without the threat of Ben showing up) had him giddy. The post-victory euphoria had nothing on Charlie Spring.

But, about Ben… Nick hadn’t heard any more about him from Charlie since the incident. He didn’t want to pry or seem overly protective — Charlie said he could handle himself and Nick respected that. But he was also curious.

“So, how has work been?” Nick asked.

Charlie hummed. “Fine. Balloon guy books the mayor’s kid’s birthday party, so that’s nice.”

Nick nodded and waited, but it seemed Charlie wasn’t going to share any more.

“I meant—”

“Yeah, I know,” Charlie sighed. “You meant with Ben.”

Nick shook his head, suddenly regretting butting in. “You don’t have to tell me anything, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Charlie set his glass down and sat upright. “No, it’s all right. I shouldn’t… shut you out. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some weakling who needs rescuing. Especially after how I responded when Ben…” He trailed off.

“I think you’re many things, Charlie. Weak isn’t one of them.”

Charlie shook his head so gently that if Nick hadn’t been watching him closely, he would have missed it.

“It’s true. In fact, there are some ways that I think you’re so much stronger than I am,” Nick said. Like being out… “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still kind and thoughtful and generous. Trust me when I say I know how much inner strength that takes.”

Charlie’s eyes met Nick’s, and he could have sworn it looked like what he was saying was sinking in. 

You could say it now. It’s a good time, it makes sense.

Nick opened his mouth, but before he could utter a syllable, their waiter suddenly appeared with a couple of the dishes Charlie had ordered for them: endive leaves filled with goat cheese and oranges, and some seared scallops. 

Nick had never had scallops — bivalves low-key freaked him out — but these didn’t look so scary, and with Charlie encouragement he found he actually rather liked them. The goat cheese thing was also really good.

He noticed they’d strayed from his initial question, but Nick didn’t want to push it.

Thankfully, it seemed Charlie was using some of that inner strength Nick had espoused.

“For what it’s worth… I’ve barely seen Ben at work,” Charlie said, swirling the ice in glass. “He runs everything through an intermediary now. I think you really threw him there at the restaurant and now he doesn’t know what to think about me.” Charlie laughed lightly, but there was no mirth behind it.

Nick frowned. “Char, I’m so sor—”

“Nah,” Charlie interrupted. “Let’s skip the shame spiral this time, huh? We’re together in a great city in a lovely restaurant, sharing a romantic meal. Fuck Ben.”

Nick grinned unsteadily. “Yeah. Okay.”

The waiter arrived with more plates — pork sausage with white beans, a rabbit confit and some fried aubergine.

Their mouths were busy tasting the amazing tapas, and when they weren’t, the two men were busy chatting happily and making one another laugh. With some effort, and some exercises he’d learned in therapy, and maybe also with a couple glasses of sangria in his stomach, Nick finally let himself relax. Charlie was absolutely right (as always): they were together, and that was everything. 

A tiny voice in the back of his head warned Nick that this was unsustainable — that they still had stuff to talk about. Charlie was stuck under Ben’s thumb. Nick couldn’t come out. And soon, sooner than he’d like to admit at the moment, it would be bidding season, and then he’d hopefully land a deal with another team. Another team in another town. Would Charlie… come with him? That was a wild thing to ask. Multiplied tenfold since Nick wasn’t out.

Spiralling, he was spiralling. Nick shook his head to clear out those thoughts and mentally put up a “gone fishing” sign. Not tonight. Tonight was about being present.

Nick was enjoying Charlie’s story about how Tao and Elle had gotten together — apparently it involves a truly disastrous first date — when his phone alarm went off.

“Preset it so we won’t miss our appointment,” he explained, silencing the thing and signalling with his hand for the check.

“Appointment?” Charlie teased. “Are we getting our teeth cleaned?”

“I could make a personal inspection later, if you like,” Nick smirked, licking his lips to make his intention clear. “But noooo, this will be much more fun.” He frowned, suddenly worried Charlie would think his plan was naff. “I mean, I hope it is. Now I’m worried it might be kind of dorky.”

Charlie shrugged. “I like dorky. I like you, after all.”

“You calling me dorky? Me? The rugby prince?”

Charlie fixed him a look. “Please. You’re one of the dorkiest people I know. And I know Sai!”

Nick squawked in protest, but it was light-hearted. Charlie giggled, and Nick’s heart swelled completely. Good lord, he was down deep for this man.

He settled the bill and they strolled another few blocks to their destination. This was clearly a popular nighttime area, and there were many couples wandering about. Holding hands. Nick passed half a dozen before he decided to just go for it. He put his hand on Charlie’s arm and slowly slid it down until their fingers were clasped together. Charlie was surprised enough that he stopped walking and looked between them before meeting Nick’s gaze.

“Is this okay?” Nick asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Charlie replied. “Are you okay?”

Nick sucked in a breath. No one was paying them any mind. They were anonymous guys just out on a nice date night. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” And for once, he actually meant it.

They strolled on until they reached their destination.

“Mini golf?” Charlie asked incredulously. “I repeat my earlier statement about you being extremely dorky.”

Nick’s stomach dropped a little. “If you don’t want to do it, we could find something else, or just—”

“Nick.” Charlie grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “I’m teasing you. This looks fun. Plus when I win, the bragging rights will be absolutely delicious.”

“Wha — who says you’re going to win?” Nick replied.

“Oh, Nick, I think we both know I’m used to handling a big club.”

He was flirting. Charlie was flirting about his massive dong right here in public, and there was nothing Nick could do about it but try to stop the swelling in his pants. Nick had plans for that dick later. Big plans. But for now, he gulped and put those thoughts away.

It was an indoor mini golf course designed to look like ancient Mesoamerican ruins — reminding Nick a little of that old American kids game show he’d seen clips of Legends of the Hidden Temple. It was lushly decorated, with fake stone monuments everywhere and so much plastic foliage you couldn’t even see most of the course from the entryway. Nick had worried this would end up like those run-down old mini golf places at Brighton, but he was très impressed. And at this hour of the night, it was down to just adults — not that he minded kids, obviously.

They checked in and got through the preparation process quickly. Charlie made some suggestive hand motions on his club, to which Nick tried to respond with a stern face but undercut himself when he let out a chortle.

While waiting to start the course, they picked up a couple of drinks at the bar — a mojito for Charlie, a mai tai for Nick, who said he’d never actually had one before.

“Oh wow, that’s very fruity,” he said after taking a sip. He knew it had rum in it and had been preparing for a blast of that, but the pineapple juice and citrus liqueurs dominated.

Charlie smirked.

“What?”

“It’s just…” Charlie replied, lowering his voice. “That’s exactly what I thought after you fucked me that second time.”

Both men blushed hard and avoided eye contact. Nick held his ice-filled glass up to one cheek in a vain effort to stem the heat surging through him. They had to cool it with the sex taunts in public or Nick was going to lose control and drag Charlie behind that giant stone face thing and have his way with him.

Once the people in front of them had moved off the first hole, they began playing, and the distraction of walking around and trying to actually beat each other helped those sexual urges dissipate. 

It started off calm enough, but by the time they were a third of the way through the course, the trash-talking had ramped up considerably. Apparently if Nick and Charlie had to bottle up their sexual urges for a couple more hours, they were going to channel that energy into competitiveness with barely concealed flirting. 

“Five! On a par two! Good lord, Nicholas, that’s just sad.”

“Well they shouldn’t make the mouth on the bloody Mayan statue so small!” 

“I thought you liked a tight mouth.”

“Don’t get fresh with me in public.”

“All right, all right… So. Which hole so far has been your favourite?”

“... Charlie.”

“Oh, the next one has freed up — come along, Nick, don’t leave the poor people behind us waiting.”

The next one involved some difficult geometry, and Nick ended up whacking his ball down the wrong hole, sending it careening off course in the lower level. He watched as Charlie apparently ran some advanced calculus in his head and then tapped the ball lightly. Nick thought for sure it was going to peter out early, but it had juuuuust enough momentum to reach the drop, and then it slid out and swung straight into the hole. God damn it.

“Well, well. And now we find out who the real athletic champion is,” Charlie taunted, crouching down to retrieve his ball.

“You cheated!” Nick exclaimed.

“Oh yeah?” Charlie asked defiantly. Flirtatiously. God Nick wanted to just—

“You have that big brain.”

“I thought you liked my big… brain.”

That one got an eyebrow raise and a wagged finger from Nick. It only encouraged Charlie further. Someone was in a very bratty mood tonight.

They played until the eighteenth and final hole. Despite Charlie’s teasing, Nick had eventually improved and their scores had come quite close. Nick was a few strokes from winning this thing — strokes, lol, his mind was firmly in the gutter — if only Charlie were to falter.

Nick watched as he lined up his shot. Just as Charlie raised his club and began the downswing, Nick brushed his hand against Charlie’s arse. Lightly, so very lightly, but enough to be felt, and the salacious whimper that escaped Charlie’s mouth was something that Nick wanted to store away and replay for years to come.

“How dare you?” Charlie yelped, smacking Nick on the arm as hard as he could. 

It smarted, but it was worth it as the ball did end up missing. Unfortunately, Charlie managed to correct it with just one additional stroke. Nick did his best, but ended up falling slightly short. 

Charlie celebrated his victory with an obnoxious dance that included a sad attempt at twerking his adorably but not entirely ample buttocks in Nick’s direction. Not that Nick minded. Once again, storing that image away for future use.

“All right, I know when I’m licked,” Nick said, drawing a raised eyebrow from Charlie as they made their way over to the equipment return.

“Oh my god, look!” Charlie said, pointing. 

His finger led Nick to a photo booth. The attendant said they got one free commemorative session, so Charlie grabbed Nick’s wrist and hauled him over, pushing him inside. There wasn’t much room — it seemed to have been designed more for children than two adult men — but they were behind a curtain…

So Nick sat down and pulled Charlie firmly onto his lap. The slender man giggled and wriggled a bit, clearly trying to get a rise out of Nick, but he held his hips firmly and pressed the start button. Lights came on and a countdown began. Nick tried to get Charlie to pay attention but he was too busy horsing around, so when the first photo was taken, Nick was smiling at the camera and Charlie was stuck looking reverently at Nick. In the second photo, Charlie had finally turned to the camera, but it was Nick’s turn to glance away — distracted by his proximity to one of the world’s great beauties. The third and fourth photos were them making out in progressively more disgusting ways. If there had been a fifth photo… things might have gotten out of hand.

Lordy, these two were horny that night.

They gathered their things and popped back out onto the street, hand in hand.

“Char! Ice cream!” Nick said, pointing to a cute little parlour across the street. “You want some dessert?”

Charlie nodded. “I do… but we can get ice cream first.”

Once again, lordy.

Cones in hand — raspberry sorbet for Nick, chocolate almond for Charlie — they strolled a couple blocks down to walk along the canal. It was quieter down here, apparently away from the main stretch they’d been on. Water lapped gently on the walls as they walked. 

“Can I ask you an awkward personal question?” Charlie spouted. “Seems like fair play after the Ben stuff at the tapas place.”

Nick nodded.

“How’s therapy going?”

Oh. Not what Nick had been expecting.

His surprise must have shown because Charlie immediately started back-pedalling.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, obviously — I just… wondered if you felt like it was helping at all?”

Nick took another lick of his quickly softening ice cream, giving him a little more time to think.

“It’s going well, I suppose,” he finally said. “Ximena is nice. She thought it was really funny that you had already taught me some techniques to deal with my anger.”

“Really? She likes me?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Well… she thinks you’re good for me. At least I think she does. She’s very cagey with ever actually saying anything.”

“Welcome to therapy,” Charlie said, biting off the exposed part of his cone. “But really. I’m so incredibly proud of you, Nick. It takes a lot of strength and confidence to do therapy, actually.”

Nick blushed, thankful that they were in between street lamps, so his cheeks were lit only by moonlight.

They were passing a small footbridge over the canal, and Charlie grabbed Nick’s hand and pulled him over to the centre. They leaned against the railing as they finished the last bits of their ice cream cones, and then they were left admiring the view, the quiet canal, the night sky. 

“Really beautiful tonight,” Charlie said, his neck craned upward to the heavens. Nick glanced up and saw more stars than one would expect for being in a downtown urban area. But looking back down, none of it compared to the man standing beside him.

“I love you.”

Nick wasn’t sure what he thought he was going to say there. But there went the three words he’d been holding back for a long time. Three words he’d never said to anyone in a romantic context. Three words he’d figured he probably wouldn’t say for years, if ever.

Nick Nelson loved Charlie Fucking Spring.

Though his utterance came as a bit of a surprise to Nick, he quickly got past it and never for a nanosecond regretted it. It was something he’d been bandying about in his brain for a while now, and not only had he grown confident in his own inner feelings, Nick had also grown confident enough to know that he would continue to love Charlie — to be in love with Charlie — even if he didn’t feel the same way. 

He hoped, of course, that Charlie might reciprocate the feeling. But even if he didn’t, Nick was no longer capable of keeping it to himself. His love demanded freedom into the world. And now it had it.

Charlie’s face dropped from down to earth. He looked as though maybe he thought Nick had said something else, light puzzlement.

“You —”

“I love you, Charlie Spring,” Nick repeated. There would be no mistaking what he said, no walking it back or playing it off as a casual thing. It was on the record, in duplicate.

Charlie continued to not react for a few seconds. Or perhaps a lifetime, Nick wasn’t sure. 

“I… why are you saying that?” Charlie asked.

Nick was worried about the potential direction this was going, but pressed forward.

“Because it’s true. I do. Have for a while now,” he replied, taking one of Charlie’s hands in his and scanning his face. “I love you.”

Even in the moonlight, Nick could see moisture welling in Charlie’s eyes.

“I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable — and, and I don’t expect you to just say it back, of course.”

“Uncomf… Nick, you giant sodding idiot, obviously I love you!” Charlie yelped back, whacking Nick hard on the bicep. Then he lept into Nick’s arms and planted a kiss on him, deep and perfect, one to remember. 

They pulled apart, still in one another’s arms. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone nearby, so they could have their romantic yet embarrassing moment in peace.

“Did you just call me a ‘giant sodding idiot’?” Nick asked, incredulous.

“What? I call you that at least once a week,” Charlie replied. 

They mashed their mouths together once more, snogging as they pressed their bodies closer, obvious erections grinding together.

Charlie began kissing and nipping his way down Nick’s chin. He just tilted his head back in ecstasy, exposing his throat and moaning lowly. 

“Do you really mean it, Nick?” Charlie whispered into his ear.

Nick put his hands on Charlie’s arms and pushed him back, no matter how much he wanted his boyfriend latched onto his neck for the foreseeable future. 

“Yes, I mean it,” he replied. “You have completely blown up my life since the second I laid eyes on you—”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t been such a douchebag and cut the line—”

“How many times do I have to admit that was wrong and apol—”

“Just doing whateeeeever you want—”

“Wait wait wait,” Nick shouted. “Hold up. My point was, I didn’t know it then, but my life sucked before I met you. And you have made my life so much better, Charlie. You’ve made me a better person. Made me want to be a better person. And to top it all off, you’re fit as hell and fuck like a porn star. Of course I’m in love with you, what other possible choice is there?”

“Jesus, Nick… you’re nothing like I first thought, are you?”

“Was you first thought ‘amazing lover,’ because if so I’d dispute that—”

“Oh lord, shut up and kiss me.”

Nick complied.

They kissed, on that bridge, in the soft moonlight, until Nick simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“Charlie,” he said. “Please take me back to the hotel and fuck me. All the way.”

Charlie pulled his head back and looked Nick in the eyes for just a second.

And then his fingers were in his mouth, which emitted an ear-aching whistle.

“Taxi!” he shouted, managing to hail the passing cab. He yanked Nick off the bridge, practically shoved him in the backseat, told the driver the name of the hotel and then was immediately back to macking all over Nick.

Tonight was going to be good, holy shit.

Nick tossed about twice as much as he should at the cab driver as they piled out at the hotel. Nick had just enough presence of mind to glance around the lobby as they jogged through, but he didn’t spot anyone he knew. Probably still out partying.

Charlie practically shoved him through his hotel room door, closing and locking it behind him before pouncing on Nick like a housecat on a mouse. Nick wasn’t used to being manhandled like this, but holy shit, it was doing things for him.

“Can you shower, baby?” Charlie said. “Then I can eat you out.”

Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately began shucking his clothes, tossing them haphazardly around the room as Charlie watched and licked his lips. 

“You gonna watch again?” Nick asked as he pushed down his underwear, freeing his already leaking cock. “I kind of liked that… made me sort of feel like a stripper or something, but just for you.”

Charlie shivered. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.”

He trailed Nick into the bathroom and leaned against the counter, dick print clearly visible through his trousers. Nick waited for the stream to warm up before hopping in. He put shower gel on his fingers and quickly got to work.

“Char… did you know last night… when I sucked you off… I almost came myself?” Nick asked, eyes fluttering as he breached his hole.

“Fuck, really?” Charlie asked. His voice sounded broken, even though the noisy waterfall.

“Yeah… almost came from the taste of you on my tongue… fuck you’re so hot, Charlie, I can’t help myself sometimes.” 

Nick started bucking his hips slightly, fucking himself on his own fingers. Fuck, it felt so good, and he loved how Charlie simply couldn’t look away. His boyfriend palmed his own erection through his pants, clearly seeking some relief just from watching Nick in the shower. He loved putting on a show like this, being wanted and even objectified a little.

“Stop,” Charlie suddenly commanded. Nick paused. “You’ve got to be clean enough by now. I need to lick you, Nick.”

Who was Nick to say no?

He rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, towelling himself dry. Charlie took him by the hand and led him back into the bedroom, where he instructed Nick to lie face down on a towel he’d placed there. Nick settled onto it, though his chest and head were resting on the scratchy hotel duvet. He positioned his hard cock to be comfortable, and enjoyed the tingling sensation he got as Charlie settled in behind him.

“You have, truly, the most sensational arse, Nick,” he moaned as his hands roved over Nick’s ample cheeks. “Like a fucking dump truck… can’t get enough of it.”

Nick’s face scrunched up in bemusement — first time he’d had his arse compared to heavy machinery — but soon let out a gasp when Charlie parted his cheeks and cold air flowed over his pert hole.

“Can I take a picture of your hole?” Charlie asked. “You should really see it, Nick, it’s fucking beautiful.”

Well, Nick can check that question off the list of things he never thought he’d be asked.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to rut against the bed as hormones coursed through his veins.

Some shuffling, and then he heard a few clicks followed by cursing.

“This is hard to do with one hand,” Charlie said. “Nick, love… will you pull your cheeks apart for me? Please?”

Already, Nick was wanton enough that he would do anything Charlie asked, so he reached behind himself and pulled his arse apart for his boyfriend’s viewing pleasure. More clicks were followed by happy noises from Charlie, who leaned over Nick to show him the phone. And there was Nick’s hole in HD glory. He had to admit… it wasn’t bad.

“But it’s nowhere near as pretty as your hole, Char,” Nick said.

“Hmm. Well, we can compare hole pics later, Nick. Tonight’s about your arse only. Speaking of which…”

Charlie tossed his phone on the bed beside Nick and bent down. He licked a long stripe starting at his perineum and going all the way up, over his hole and to the top of his cleft. Oh fuck, oh fuck… Nick jolted at the sensation. He was halfway there already and Charlie had barely touched him. Curse The Rule… Nick didn’t know how he was going to hold on for an entire tongue-lashing, let alone a deep fucking.

Tongue swirled around his sensitive rim, pushing inside sometimes and setting his nerve endings aflame. Nick didn’t know why, but getting rimmed by Charlie was a lot like pesto — he ate it relatively rarely, but when he did, holy shit, it was the best thing he’d ever had. Nick’s mouth gawped against the shitty duvet as Charlie licked him over and over. 

Fire swirled along his limbs; he was getting close.

“Charlie… gonna cum if you don’t stop…” Nick wasn’t sure Charlie heard him, so he reached back and gently tapped him on the side of his head, which was laving up and down his crack. “Charlie… you have to stop or I’ll—”

“I know,” Charlie said, lifting his head up. “I want you to cum, Nick. That way you’ll last the rest of the night.”

The rest of the… of lord Jesus holy fuck.

Charlie got back to work, and Nick rutted more against the towel, tiptoeing up to his orgasm. Then, with a massive thrust from Charlie’s tongue that went so deep Nick briefly wondered if he had reptile DNA, Nick was spasming, blasting all over the towel beneath him. He screamed face down into a pillow, blunting the noise enough not to send hotel security running. Charlie continued to lick him throughout until Nick completely collapsed, smearing the cum between his body and the towel, not that he could be arsed about such things.

When the blood rushing through his ears died down, he could hear Charlie praising him in between kisses along his bum.

“Good boy, Nick, you did so well, I’m so proud of you…”

Nick preened, a feeling of accomplishment and contentedness pairing nicely with the bonelessness seeping into the rest of his body. 

Charlie rolled Nick over onto his back, his limbs flopping around loosely. The cold air on the cum-smeared parts of his body quickly began to feel gross, but before Nick could complain, Charlie was already up and back with a warm, wet washcloth, tenderly cleaning him a bit.

After a quick toothbrushing and shedding all but his boxer-briefs, Charlie snuggled up next to Nick, happy to just cuddle for a while until Nick was ready for more. While he was mentally very much in favour of getting railed to death by Charlie, Nick’s body knew it needed a little recovery time.

“If that was the aftereffect of The Rule, I have to say, I quite like it,” Charlie murmured against Nick’s skin. 

“I’ve been pent up before, but holy moly,” Nick replied. “Maybe something to do with the fact that I finally get to say that I love you.”

Charlie tilted his head up to look at Nick. “I love you, too.” 

He craned his neck a bit until their lips met, slow, languid kisses. Not hurried with lust or bursting with passion, but instead the kind that felt like they could go on all night. Nick wouldn’t mind that at all.

Soon, though, Charlie pulled away and snicked open a bottle of lube. He had Nick roll onto his side and began teasing his entrance with slicked up fingers, all the while cooing and praising Nick quietly. Even post-orgasm, it all felt fucking fantastic. 

Gently, Charlie pushed a little. His shower fingering and being eaten out meant Nick was already a little stretched and relaxed, so Charlie’s slim finger easily found its way in. Charlie added a second finger and stimulated Nick’s prostate a little, teasing him with gentle touches that made Nick want to buck his hips, before switching back to scissoring him further open. 

A third finger and some additional probing, and then Nick was rolling a condom onto Charlie’s dildo, which was going to help open him up further. Nick made little grunting and yelping sounds as it pressed further and further inside him, gripping the sheets and shaking as he got used to the thing. It was a lot, and it was nowhere near as big as Charlie. But, done slowly enough, and as Charlie continued to sooth him, it soon became pleasurable, and Nick found his cock beginning to reinflate, nearly ready for round two.

Once it was fully seated, Charlie mostly left the dildo in place, letting Nick acclimate rather than fucking him with it. 

Instead, he spent his time praising Nick. “You’re so beautiful Nick… so hot like this, Jesus, the things you do to me…”

Focusing on Charlie’s words, Nick was able to slow his breathing and relax into Charlie’s touch. He rolled over and looked up at Charlie with hooded eyes as Charlie tucked some loose strands of hair behind his ear.

“Nick, do you still want to try to take… all of me?” Charlie asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

He nodded. He hadn’t changed his mind. He was in love and wanted to feel as close as possible to his person.

“Well then there’s a few things we should talk about. And they’re not really super sexy. Like, first… I’ve never done this before, so I can’t make any promises.”

Nick smiled. “So it will be a first for both of us. I trust you, Charlie.”

Charlie closed his eyes; it looked like he was awash in goosebumps. Nick made a mental note to shower Charlie with more words of affirmation, it always had such a great effect.

“Second is, uh, a little anatomy lesson,” Charlie said when he’d recovered. “Remember we talked before about the second ring?”

He nodded. Nick had been thinking about that a lot.

“Well,” Charlie said, “I’ve done some… research—”

“Naughty googling? Adult message boards? Pooooorn?” Nick teased.

“Shut up,” Charlie yelped mirthfully, reaching down and giving the dildo a couple quick tugs that had Nick gasping. “ Anyway… that’s why I haven’t gone all the way in before. It’s possible to relax that inner sphincter, but it’s mostly the responsibility of the bottom. All I can do is sort of… jab at it.” Charlie blushed, looking a little embarrassed.

“So if I figure out how to relax it… then what happens?”

“Erm, then I can… insert myself all the way,” Charlie replied.

“And that feels good?”

“According to my research — shut up — yes, it’s an entirely new level of pleasure for both parties. Or at least, it can be. Everyone is different, every body is different, and some people don’t find that pleasurable. So if that’s how it is, I just wanted to say up front that’s okay and I love whatever we do do.”

“I’m going to love whatever we do, too.” Nick reached up and pulled Charlie down into a kiss. 

Charlie broke away and moved down Nick’s chin and throat, kissed his chest, licked his way down past his navel and eventually took Nick in his mouth, just for a few moments, swirling his tongue around his head before he let it fall back out onto Nick’s stomach. He clambered in between Nick’s legs and propped them up a bit, still resting on his feet but giving Charlie easier access to his bum. 

Nick craned his head and was pleased to see Charlie’s cock straining against his boxer-briefs, a huge damp patch off to one side, near his hip. He loved being able to see exactly how much he turned Charlie on (and he imagined the same was true vice versa). 

Charlie grabbed the dildo and gently shifted it about. Nick could feel it squirming around inside him. 

“How does that feel?”

“Good… nice,” Nick replied.

“Then you’re as stretched as you’re going to be,” Charlie said. “If I’d planned for this I would have brought my really big dildo.”

“How many dildos do you have?” Nick asked lightly.

Charlie shrugged. “Man’s gotta do something to keep warm. Besides… haven’t had to use them very much lately.” He smiled as Nick smirked, then wiped that smirk off Nick’s face by jiggling the dildo around, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. 

Charlie slowly slid the dildo out of Nick, who managed to downgrade his reaction to a light sigh since he knew what came next. Or thought he did.

“There’s one more unsexy thing we should do,” Charlie said. He reached over to the bedside table and held up a long, thin instrument of some kind. Sort of like a syringe but thick and plastic and purple.

“You want a little sexy nurse role play?” Nick asked, eyeing the thing.

“No,” Charlie replied. “It’s a lube injector. You can only push lube in so far and… you’re gonna need some extra down deep this time.”

“Oh,” Nick said, his erection flagging ever so slightly. “Injector” wasn’t really a very seductive word. “Is it… will it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Charlie said. “Honestly, you should barely feel it, it’s much thinner than that dildo. The only thing you should feel is the lube being injected inside you… probably a little cold, I imagine.”

That didn’t sound so bad, and Charlie ended up being right — it was like when you drink ice cold water quickly and can feel it in your stomach for a few moments before your body warms it up. Nick waited patiently, and soon enough the feeling dissipated. 

He’d been so distracted by the strange feeling that Nick only noticed Charlie had pulled out a condom when he heard the foil tear as he opened it. He reached out and grabbed Charlie’s forearm.

“Can we… not use that?” Nick asked, suddenly embarrassed.

Charlie stared at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded. “We’re both cleared, and I’ve been wanting to try it for a while now. I want to feel you, really feel you. But only if you want to and feel safe, of course.”

Charlie looked down at the condom and back at Nick, then tossed the condom onto the bedside table. “Fuck, Nick, okay, yeah.”

Nick propped himself up on his arms. “How do you want me, then?”

“If it’s okay… just there, on your back. I want to see you.”

“I want to see you, too,” Nick smiled.

“And if it’s ever too much —”

“Yellow or red, I know, I know,” Nick chuckled. “Please believe me, right now I’m so fucking green. I need your cock, Charlie, please.” Whatever turgidness he’d lost during the deep lubing had come roaring back as he thought about Charlie inserting something much sexier, and his voice wavered a bit at the end.

Charlie shivered with desire and positioned himself between Nick’s legs. He warmed up some more lube on his fingers and pushed it inside Nick, then lubed up his own cock. Nick watched, enamoured, his mouth dropping open slightly at the squelching noise as Charlie slathered the slickness along his length. His loooong length. Nick’s eyes fluttered thinking about how soon that thing would be lodged fully inside him.

He sucked in a big breath and let it out in wavering puffs. Charlie pulled over a pillow and slid it under his hips, then lined himself up.

“You still good?” Charlie asked.

“Green, Char, so green.”

“Okay.”

And with that, Charlie started pressing against Nick’s entrance. Between being well stretched earlier and willing himself to relax, Charlie’s thick head quickly slid past his rim. It was intriguing to Nick — a little different. No, a lot different. He hadn’t imagined he’d be able to tell the difference so much, but just with a little bit of Charlie inside him Nick could already sense a change. It felt smoother, more intimate, just all around better. 

“Oh, god, you cock feels so good, Charlie, Jesus,” Nick moaned, his chest flush with heat.

“You arse is… it’s so fucking good, Nick, I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Charlie said, taking a sharp breath. 

Nick gave an experimental squeeze, causing Charlie to gasp. Nick felt it too, everything so much more vivid when they were connected directly.

“Don’t do that again or we won’t get to the thing you wanted to do tonight, god,” he moaned as he continued to slide into Nick.

Nick laid back and focused on easing Charlie into him, relaxing, breathing regularly. Hearing Charlie’s little breaths and grunts as inch by inch disappeared inside Nick’s tight heat was intoxicating. Soon, it started feeling more difficult, and Charlie slowed down; he’s reached the point where the dildo had stretched Nick. It would take more time from here to push in, and Nick would need to adjust.

As Charlie advanced achingly slowly, Nick reached for one of his hands and took a couple of his fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt compelled to do something, anything, with his mouth, and that’s what was in reach. As he opened up more for Charlie, Nick hummed around his fingers happily. 

Eventually, he felt a sudden twinge. Charlie tried to press forward again, and there was that feeling again.

Charlie looked up at Nick. “I think… I’m hitting that wall I mentioned.”

Nick let Charlie’s spit-slicked fingers fall from his mouth. “So it’s up to me now.”

“We don’t have to —”

“I want to try, Char, please. Just let me… I don’t know, try to relax.”

Charlie nodded and remained motionless while Nick closed his eyes. Relax… relax… relax… No, he had no idea how to do that. He felt very full already. Nick couldn’t imagine being any fuller, to be honest, but he knew Charlie had a couple more inches available, and he was determined for his boyfriend to go balls deep tonight. 

“Will you kiss me?” he asked Charlie.

“Of course, baby,” Charlie said. He leaned down slowly, careful not to move his dick too much but still managing to cause pleasurable sparks all over Nick’s nether regions, and locked lips with Nick. It was gentle, basic kissing, but it gave Nick something to concentrate on while he was also trying to relax. 

They were that way for at least five minutes, and it was lovely, but Nick still couldn’t figure out how to make some random muscle deep inside his body relax and let go. He sighed and Charlie leaned back.

“No luck, huh?”

Nick frowned. “Sorry.”

“No sorries!” Charlie said, nodding his head. “We talked about how this might not work. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Well, I’m not ready to give up quite yet,” Nick said. “If we were deadlocked on the pitch, I’d change tactics.” 

“Sensible.” Charlie made a thoughtful face. “So what do you want to do?”

Nick swallowed. “I want you to fuck me.”

Charlie’s eyes bulged. “You…”

“Not hard, not like porn star thrusts,” Nick clarified. “Just… fuck me a little. Bump against that wall inside me. Maybe it will help me figure out how to let you in.”

“So basically, be a human battering ram.”

Nick smirked. “If it would help, as you do it I could chant ‘Grond, Grond, Grond!’ ”

Charlie reared back and laughed, smacking Nick on the thigh. “But if I succeed, it won’t be orcs flooding your guts.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Nick replied. “My defences down there are weaker than Minas Tirith for sure.”

“Fuck, Nick, I love when you talk dirty to me,” Charlie said, kissing Nick’s airborne leg.

Then he pulled out a little, just a few inches, Nick could feel. Someday he wanted to feel what a long-dicking from such a long dick felt like, but tonight was about depth. Charlie pushed forward, slowly, but enough to feel fucking fantastic against Nick’s innards, and then he was hitting that wall again. It was a moment of discomfort in the sea of pleasure Charlie’s cock was giving him. But it also gave Nick something to hone in on.

As Charlie continued to fuck him, Nick closed his eyes and searched within himself. He carefully, slowly let all the other stuff wash away, the filthy sounds echoing in the hotel room, the ecstasy of Charlie’s cock ramming him, the ache of his neglected cock, the swelling fondness in his heart. All that faded away until he could focus on the knocking deep within him.

And then, suddenly, Nick realised what he needed to do. It was sort of embarrassing, but he focused on how it felt to relieve himself — god, he hoped that high-fibre diet he was on was successful — and then suddenly.

It worked.

Something clicked, and all of a sudden the wall opened up and Charlie crashed deeper into Nick, his balls slapping deliciously against his cheeks.

But Nick couldn’t really feel that, because it was like an explosion was going off inside him. Every part of his body suddenly lit up. Nick lost all control of his body as it felt like an earthquake emerging from within. His eyes rolled back in his head, he moaned incoherently, drool started sliding down one cheek and his arms flapped about like fish dumped on a lakeside dock.

It was the purest form of ecstasy Nick had ever felt. More nerve endings than he could handle were being stimulated, and he almost lost consciousness from the overwhelming sensations. He may even have had a little out of body experience, which was jarring. If he’d had more of his wits about him, Nick would have noticed Charlie also gasping desperately, his arms quivering as he tried to stay upright, his hips stuttering like malfunctioning machinery. 

Just when Nick thought he might actually explode, like his whole body might tear apart, Charlie pulled out part way, enough to withdraw from that newly discovered fortress inside Nick. Both men regained enough of their faculties to curse as they came down from the intense sensations.

“Holy fuck, Charlie, fuck fuck shit, I never knew, never knew…”

“Nick, that was… Jesus, I don’t know what that was, holy fuck…”

Nick flopped one arm over his forehead as his chest heaved. “So you could… feel that too?”

Charlie just nodded, gasping for air until he could speak again.

“God, it felt like you were squeezing my head, but then my whole cock was feeling you spasming around me,” Charlie huffed. “That was like ten times more intense than regular fucking, my god.”

“My brain went totally offline,” Nick replied. “I think I forgot my own name for a minute there.”

“Oh my god, you drooled on the pillow, Nick,” Charlie gasped, pointing.

Nick turned his head awkwardly and felt the wetness on the pillow. “Oh, yeah. Wow.”

“I think I almost came,” Charlie said. “Scratch that, I definitely almost came.”

“Let’s just… take a breather,” Nick said.

They stayed like that, Charlie lodged in Nick’s arse, until the zappy lightning feelings along their limbs receded. 

“So… try that again?” Nick eventually proposed. He propped himself up enough to reach Charlie’s floppy hair to fix an errant curl.

Charlie nodded, and took a tentative thrust. It didn’t immediately go all the way in again, so he went back to the short, gentle thrusts he’d been doing before. Nick moaned happily; it was much less intense than when he’d been fully breached, but this was so, so pleasant. Charlie could fuck him like this for hours and he’d be supremely satisfied. He began sinking into the feeling like a warm bath at the end of the day and then —

Boom. There it was again. The push through, fullness all over, and every nerve from his prostate to his inner sphincter reacting in his brain. Nick again began speaking in tongues and writhing uncontrollably as Charlie did his level best to hang on.

However, it wasn’t too long before he had to pull back again. This time, as they both eased back from the brink, Charlie leaned down and kissed Nick. Although it wasn’t really kissing, because both of them were too winded to get enough oxygen just through their noses, so after a second their lips broke apart and they just wheezed and puffed into the other’s mouth. The intimacy of all this hit Nick, who tried to commit the feelings of warmth and safety and care to memory for future reference.

“Char… I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold on next time,” Nick whimpered into his boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Fuck, Nick, me either,” Charlie replied, completely wrecked.

Nick smiled. “So then we can let go together.”

Charlie pulled back a little. “You want me to—”

“Yeah, please,” Nick replied. “If, if you want to.”

“If I want to breed you, Nick?” Charlie smirked. “Like you even have to ask.”

Breed. That was a funny word. Nick had never thought about it much before, but the idea of him taking Charlie’s essence as deep inside him as was possible… well, the little squirt of precum onto his belly was a pretty good indicator of his thoughts on the topic.

Nick wrapped his arms around the back of his knees, giving Charlie the best possible access, and then nodded at his boyfriend. Charlie nodded back, gulped, and then resumed slamming Nick.

Once again, his head burst through Nick’s wall, and both men gave into rapture. Fire licked at their skin as they shook apart at a molecular level, each rambling incomprehensibly and struggling not to pass out as they experienced the deepest pleasure of their lives.

“Gonna cum, Nick…” Charlie managed to utter.

“C-cum in me, Charlie,” Nick replied with effort. “Fucking b-b-breed me!”

He watched with glee as Charlie’s eyes fluttered and then squinched shut as he stilled with his hips pressed firmly against Nick’s arse. Charlie bellowed as he blasted deep inside Nick, a roar like Nick had never heard. And then he was distracted by the feeling of Charlie’s seed, his hot, sticky cum, filling him inside.

Nick didn’t have much time to process it before his own orgasm overtook him. Totally untouched, by the way. Usually he could feel his cock pulsing, his cum squirting, but the overall sensation was so mind-shattering that Nick had to just hold on and hope he didn’t shake apart at the seams. If his ears had been working, he’d know that he too was emitting a series of howls that could be heard several rooms over. But his auditory senses were temporarily offline, like most of his higher brain functions.

He roused to find Charlie completely slumped on top of him, his breathing unsteady. So unsteady that Nick worried he was crying. He gripped Charlie’s shoulders and pushed him up until he could see his face — which were in fact wetted by some tears.

“Oh god, Charlie, are you okay?” he asked.

Charlie nodded. “I am, I’m fine, I promise,” he said, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. “Those are, like, overwhelmed tears, not sad tears.”

“Oh, Char…” Nick craned his head forward and kissed Charlie lightly. “You’re so beautiful, Charlie. I can hardly believe it.”

“All right, Nick, you’ve already got me, you can cool it with the compliments.”

Nick did a half smile and rubbed his thumb on Charlie’s cheek. “You can’t stop me from telling the truth.”

“Speaking of truths… I’m getting pretty sensitive so I’m gonna pull out,” Charlie replied. He did so slowly, and Nick held back the keening he wanted to let out at emptiness Charlie left behind inside him — though Nick was secretly rather chuffed at the knowledge that Charlie had left something else behind, as well. 

Charlie collapsed to the side of him and made little happy noises as he settled before he gasped.

“Jesus Christ, is that — Nick, did you hit the wall?”

Nick tensed; had they actually smashed the plaster? That was going to be awkward to explain to the proprietors. But when he tilted his head upward, instead of impact damage, he saw a glistening glob smeared down the wallpaper. 

“Uhh… wow, holy shit. I hit the fucking wall.”

“Maybe you’re in the wrong sport — could have gone far in basketball since you’re clearly a shooter,” Charlie quipped.

Nick groaned as the horrible joke until Charlie ended it with a kiss.

“I’m wiped, Char. Can we clean up and cuddle? Please?”

Nick’s legs were like gelatin when he went to stand, so Charlie came over and pulled one arm over his shoulder before helping him into the bathroom. They showered together. The hotel tub was pretty cramped, and both men’s limbs were in danger of giving out after that performance, so they mostly focused on scrubbing away the goop from their bodies. Nick was feeling some odd sloshing sensations back there, but decided not to say anything lest Charlie get concerned over what he was sure was just standard stuff after bottoming raw.

They dried off and made quick work of the rest of the clean-up. Nick wiped his cum off the wall (he would never again laugh at those videos of hotel rooms lit up by blacklight) while Charlie cleared the soiled linens and washed off the dildo. 

Finally, they slid into bed, Nick taking the big spoon position and cradling Charlie against him.

“Thank you for letting me cum in you,” Charlie sighed as he melted into Nick’s embrace.

“Thank you for cumming in me,” Nick replied.

“You’ll have to return the favour real soon,” Charlie said. That’s how Nick knew his cock was done for that evening; if it had even an ounce of life left, it absolutely would have twitched at that.

They lay quietly for a couple of minutes before Nick spoke up again. 

“I’m really glad I faked a leg injury so my real limp tomorrow won’t seem out of place.”

Charlie giggled. “You’re a genius.”

“I’m also really glad I already told you that I love you.”

Charlie turned his head enough to see Nick in his peripheral vision. “Oh? Why?”

“Because I want to say it again,” Nick replied. “But I don’t want you to think it’s only because your cock just made me transcend to a higher plane of existence.”

“Really? My cock did that?”

“It did, yeah,” Nick replied. “Also… I love you.”

“Mmm, I know,” Charlie said. “Let’s go to sleep now, love.”

Nick settled down, the scent of almonds filling his nose as he drifted away.

Notes:

Because of life stuff, there won't be a new chapter next week. That means Chapter 21 will publish on Oct. 17. But I have a feeling a lot of you will be rereading this chapter anyway, so that sort of works out.

Chapter 21

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Charlie traveled with Nick to an away game. The two had a magical date night out that ended with emotional declarations and some sensational anal.

This time: More sensational anal. Tara warns Nick that vague rumours are abound. Nick clashes with Harry Greene. Nick and Charlie are anxious and a little horny.

Notes:

CW in the end notes for a spoilery CW.

Thank you to littlekp for requesting the smut at the top of this chapter. (Although I was under the impression a creampie involved cumming just inside someone's orifice so it can drip out, whereas technically it applies to anytime someone cums inside someone else's arse or vagina.)

Thank you to KitSaidOui for his dedicated beta reading efforts. If you're reading Blue Line to Foggy Bottom — and I cannot recommend it highly enough — then you'll notice some thematic similarities here. They were entirely unplanned by the two of us, but it seems we're merging our brains into one horny hive mind.

So it turned out. Um. That Nick Nelson loved getting his back blown out.

In the weeks since their return from the away game, two things had ramped up significantly. The first was Nick and Charlie whispering the L-word to each other over and over. The second was an exponential increase in the number of times Nick got blasted like an eclair.

To be sure, more often than not he was the one penetrating Charlie. Charlie craved Nick’s cock, and Nick was certainly more than happy to satisfy his urges. But on a number of occasions as they made out, Nick found himself guiding Charlie’s hand to his arse, not so subtly making him palm his hairy globes and silky cleft until Charlie broke apart and, panting, ordered Nick to get the lube already.

And Charlie wasn’t going balls deep every time either. That came with certain… physical consequences that he couldn’t keep explaining away as a tight hamstring in the changing room. Partial penetration was more than enough to scratch that itch inside Nick — though he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise his gameplay, so they instituted a strict no backdoor funny business in the 72 hours before a game.

Fortunately, it was 73 hours until his next game.

“Oh, fuck, Charlie, fuck me, please, please just fucking fuck me,” Nick cried out as Chalie plunged into him over and over. 

Nick was once again flat on his back, one arm draped over his sweaty forehead and the other clutching at Charlie’s bicep as he took a solid six or seven inches. Each thrust of Charlie’s hips sent him sliding slightly up his pillow as the rhythmic creaking of the frame filled his room. 

Above him, Charlie’s eyes were clenched shut and his face was ruddy from exertion as he muttered a string of the most licentious things Nick had ever heard in his life. Vexations against the divine, curse words in languages neither of them spoke, and so many charming promises to fulfil Nick’s every desire — and yet nothing came close to the simple sound of Nick’s name on Charlie’s lips. 

Nick had been lazily jacking off a minute ago, but sensing he was close, he had instead thrown his arm up over his head. Not only did it help him avoid the temptation to end this too soon, but it exposed his armpit to Charlie. Even when he wasn’t in piggy mode, Nick knew Charlie still liked to look at it, maybe get a quick whiff. He had felt a twinge of pride as Charlie’s hips stuttered when he saw Nick’s pit, licking his lips slightly. 

“God, Nick, wish you could see yourself right now,” Charlie moaned as he chased his pleasure. “So fucking sexy… and all for me, god…”

“Yeah, baby,” Nick replied. “All for you, always for you.”

“Why’d you stop touching yourself?” Charlie huffed.

“Too close,” Nick said, his voice crackling. “Didn’t want to cum yet.”

Charlie dipped his head toward Nick’s chest and muttered a string of curse words.

“Wanna try something,” he said, looking up into Nick’s eyes. “Wanna try to get you off… without touching you.”

Nick’s eyebrows jumped. “Char, can’t go deep tonight, remember?” He still thought about that night in the hotel room. Charlie pushing his hips against him, the shouting, the climax. It was the first time he’d shot hands free.

“No,” Charlie gulped. “Not deep… the opposite.”

Nick scrunched up his face. “What do you mean?”

Charlie stopped thrusting and reared his torso upright. “Here.”

He pushed Nick’s legs back up a tad and withdrew most of the way from his arse until only his cockhead was still buried. The bumpy ridges brushed along Nick’s prostate, making him gasp. Then Charlie pushed back in, just a couple of inches, before pulling back again. He got into a steady rhythm, pumping along Nick’s prostate, and suddenly Nick understood. 

The fire inside him that had cooled a bit came roaring back like someone had tossed lighter fluid onto a pyre. A conflagration licked at the end of his limbs, singing its way toward his core. Warmth bloomed within him as Charlie short-dicked him or whatever this was called. Heaven, that was it. Even as his internal temperature registered more like hell.

He wanted to warn Charlie, tell him what was about to happen, but he hadn’t the words, either in his mind or on his tongue. And so Nick, untouched, fired rope after rope of cum over his chest and stomach, hands gripping the sheets and a silent scream on his lips.

Just as his eyesight was returning to him, he looked down to see Charlie gasping tawdrily. Nick felt his spend flood his innards. It was headier than any hit Nick could imagine. 

“Oh my fucking god, Charlie,” Nick wheezed. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Fuck, Nick when you came… you clamped down and I was immediately done for. Accidentally sort of gave you a creampie there,” Charlie heaved back. Catching his breath slightly, Charlie surveyed Nick and his goo-striped body. “You’re so stunning like this, fuck.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real fucking sexy.”

“I wish you could see… wait.” Charlie looked around. Nick followed his gaze to his phone, but it was on the dresser on the other side of the room.

“Hand me your phone,” Charlie told Nick, pointing to his bedside table. Nick passed it along, and Charlie opened the camera app. “Can I film you?”

Horrific idea. Terrible. Obviously Nick could trust Charlie, but how many times had an athlete or celebrity’s phone been hacked?

But Nick’s cum dumb.

“Yeah, okay.”

Charlie grinned and pressed record. He hovered the phone over Nick’s blissed out face before slowly moving it down his body, making sure every drop of spend glistened in the sunlight from the window. 

“This is Nick Nelson, the sexiest man alive, covered in his own sperm,” Charlie narrated, prompting Nick to snort. 

“Second sexiest at best,” Nick retorted. “No, wait. Paul Mescal. Third. Oh shoot, Michael B. Jordan. Fourth.”

Charlie huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes, continuing to film.

“And here’s his lovely cock, and his freshly drained balls, aren’t they just scrumptious?” He continued moving the camera down. “And here’s me, still inside him. Shall we see what treasures await when I pull out?”

Charlie looked up at Nick. “Can I… can I film this?”

Nick hesitated. How could this possibly be attractive to anyone?

“Please, Nick? Please?” Charlie begged. “It will be so sexy, I promise.”

Trust Charlie. Trust him.

“Fuck. Okay.”

Charlie grinned. “Good boy.”

Don’t shiver, don’t shiver.

Slowly, Charlie withdrew from Nick until his cock flopped out.

“Oh, god,” Nick warbled.

“Okay, Nick, now push.”

“Really?” What usually happened with Nick pushed down there wasn’t particularly sexy.

“Yeah. Just a little, just a little.”

So he did. Suddenly Nick felt wetness, and Charlie was gasping and moving the phone closer.

“Oh my god, Nick, clench again, please.”

He complied a few times. Then Charlie stopped the recording and shimmied up to lay beside Nick, letting his legs flop down onto the bed.

“Baby, you have to see this. It’s so fucking hot.”

He pulled up the video and hit play, watching Nick with a grimace as they talked about sexiest men while he lay there looking like he was on display at Cinnabon. Finally it panned down to his hole, which Nick was basically seeing for the first time.

He heard Charlie speak on the video. “Okay, Nick, now push.”

And then he watched his own hole undulate as Charlie’s spend oozed out, sliding down his crack and globbing onto the safety towel below.

“Oh, Jesus,” Nick moaned. It was so gross. And yet… he had to admit. It was also kind of alluring. Sexy, even.

“Fuck, Nick, you’re making me hard again already,” Charlie said, his eyes glued to the phone. Nick looked down and yes, amazingly, Charlie was firming up again as he palmed his cock.

Nick turned back to the video and watched his own hole ripple several times at Charlie’s behest. “Oh my god, it looks like the sand worm from Dune!” he giggled.

He looked over to see if Charlie was amused by his reference, but his boyfriend’s eyes were focused on the video as his hand stripped his cock. Charlie was so fit, and when he was turned on, his attractiveness only increased tenfold. The video ended, and Charlie hit replay as he masturbated. Nick wasn’t sure if he should help, but Charlie seemed to be doing fine on his own, so he settled in to enjoy the show. 

Charlie got through the video about five times until, just as the recording once again got to the point where Nick’s hole oozed out his essence, real-life Charlie climaxed again, spattering his stomach with a fresh round of cum. Nick felt his own dick twitch in response to that, but he didn’t feel the need to orgasm a second time.

“You’re so hot, Charlie, fuck,” Nick said, rolling onto his side. “I love you.”

“I love you, Nick,” Charlie moaned, still coming down from his high. “Love you, love your hole, love your cock…”

Nick smirked and captured Charlie’s mouth with his own. They snogged for a while until the stickiness became unpleasant, then moved things to the shower.

Later, they joined Imogen and Sai in the living room watching a movie. Nick pointedly ignored the look his friends shot each other when he sat down gingerly beside them and winced slightly.

 

***

 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry!”

Nick had had it up to here with Harry Greene. On the pitch, there was a weird power dynamic; Otis was captain, Harry was vice captain — still sounded made up to Nick — but Nick as the fly-half was nominally in charge of their plays. That meant in the moment, he was in charge of making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to.

Harry was not.

He’d been a serviceable player last year and the start of this year, but his game had been going downhill for months now. Nick had complained privately a few times to Otis, who had agreed and tried to address the increasingly poor performance with Harry. Even Coach Singh got involved. But no matter how much extra time they put in at practice or extra workouts in the gym, Harry had been sliding backward. And he clearly knew it.

“Fucking what, Nelson?” he shouted, his voice echoing across the pitch.

Their spat had gotten to the point that no one on the pitch could reasonably pretend to ignore it anymore, so it was time to have it out.

“You know fucking what, Harry,” Nick shouted back, walking towards Harry. “That was your fifth fucking fumble today! And unfortunately it turns out, this is a good day for you. You’ve been behind the offside twice, did a high tackle on Wally over there — yellow card! — and to be quite fucking honest with you, I’m pretty sure I smelled liquor on your breath when we got here this morning. Are you hungover? What the fucking fuck, Harry?”

By now Nick had strode over and they were in each other’s faces.

“You think you’re such hot fucking shit, Nelson?” Harry was screaming despite being in spittle distance of Nick. “I’m off my game one day and you’re riding my arse like it owes you money. I outrank you, you fucking rookie! Show some fucking respect.”

Nick noticed Otis start jogging over. This was quickly devolving into an epic shitshow that Nick did not need.

“The thing is, Harry, I show you all the respect you deserve,” Nick replied calmly. “Fucking none.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Nelson. I will fucking end you!”

Harry stood seething, his face red and blotchy. Nick was just starting to wonder if that bulging artery on his neck might actually burst when Harry snarled and lunged for him. He stepped back, in shock rather than fear, but a last-minute grab by Otis and Keiran prevented Harry from making contact. It wouldn’t have been Nick’s first skirmish on the pitch, but he still was glad it didn’t come down to that.

Nick stood watching as Otis and Kieran, joined eventually by Christian, dragged Harry away. After a while, Harry’s berserker energy ran out, and he walked off after some shouting from Otis, throwing his hands in the air and kicking the grass like a chastened schoolboy. Coach Singh watched all this calmly from the sidelines, talking quietly with their assistant coach. She would step in and lay down the law were it ever needed, but overall she preferred the Blackbirds handle their problems between one another. 

“You all right, Nick?” Sai was standing behind him. He must have come over when Nick and Harry had locked horns. Nick let himself quirk a grin. Sai really was ride or die. 

“Yeah, mate, all right,” he said as Otis came into earshot. They lifted their chins at one another, the international bro code version of what Sai and Nick had just said to one another.

“All right lads,” Otis shouted so all could hear. “Davis, you’re on outside centre. Let’s form up and run it again, yeah?”

The remaining hour of practice went much more smoothly and Nick was able to work off most of the tension remaining from Harry. He’d made plans with Sai, Otis and Christian for some pub time afterward — they could drink moderately since it was two nights before the game — but when he and Sai were eventually ready to go, Otis told them he’d meet up shortly.

Otis joined them 20 minutes later, sliding into the booth beside Sai.

“Well, Harry’s off the starting line for the next game,” he said, knocking back half the pint he’d snagged at the bar on the way. “Coach said she’s sick of his shit, and I had to agree.”

Wow. Nick was rather taken aback by that, despite Harry’s piss-poor performance and even worse attitude. His father was a minority owner of the team, after all. Benching his son was going to make things awkward at best. Still, Nick was pleased with the outcome; he’d rather have a coherent lineup on Saturday than have everyone tiptoeing around Harry on the pitch. Then there would be time before the next game for everyone to cool off.

They chatted about Harry for a few more minutes — Otis intimated there might be some trouble in the Greene family that was stressing Harry out and causing all this. But soon they tired of talking about Harry, and switched to a much more favourable topic: girls. 

“Any update on the ‘Netflix and chill’ situation with Gemma, Chris?” Otis asked.

Christian grinned wickedly. “Let’s just say Netflix is asking if we’re still watching.”

Nick, Otis and Sai broke into cheers as Christian blushed. 

“So… did you go with my recommendation, then?” Otis asked. “Did you put on Red, White and Royal Blue?”

Christian nodded. “You were right! Two guys don’t do much for me personally but I have to admit, that was a pretty hot scene… and it drove her wild. I still haven’t seen the end of that movie. Three times now and we’ve never made it past Paris.”

“Cheers to Paris, then!” Nick said, raising his glass. They clinked and drank.

“So, anything new with you, Nick?” Otis inquired.

Nick had figured this would be coming. He remembered being in this very pub a few weeks earlier and being completely bound, totally unable to tell them the truth to his teammates — his friends. He remembered denying Charlie, saying he wasn’t in a relationship. He remembered the fierce shame that set in after that. 

Nick couldn’t live with that shame again.

“Um. I’m seeing someone, actually,” he said. Nick saw Sai’s eyes snap to him, open with surprise but also glowing with support.

“Oh, wow!” Otis said. “Anyone we know?”

“Erm, I don’t think so, no,” Nick replied. “Sai knows him, though. Charlie. He — my boyfriend’s name is Charlie.”

He stared down at his empty glass for a few moments before looking up hesitantly. Sai reached over and clapped one hand down on top of Nick’s, squeezing it comfortingly. Otis was smiling as if he’d known something all along, while Christian looked somewhat more taken aback.

“Boyfriend?” he asked. “So you’re…”

“Chris,” Otis hissed, kicking him under the table. “Shut up!”

Nick laughed. “No, it’s all right. Um. Much like Alexander Claremont-Diaz, I’m bisexual.”

“All right, mate, cool,” Christian replied. “My nan’s pan. ‘Pan Nan’ I call her.”

Nick barked out a laugh. Christian always had the weirdest things to say. He wondered if his nan really is pan or if he was just being silly.

“So how long’s this been going on then?” Otis asked, tearing his eyes away from where they’d been staring at Christian.

Nick fidgeted. “That’s… hard to say. It’s a long story.”

“We got time, mate,” Otis said. “Can we peek a photo? I want to see the scoundrel who managed to land the rugby prince as you tell us what I’m sure is a sweet and romantic tale.”

Nick rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone. Opening the photos app, he blushed when the most recent thing on the roll was the minute-long video of him covered in his own mess, followed by him pushing Charlie’s cum out of his hole. (Also, Charlie had been right, of course… it shouldn’t be so hot, but after he’d gotten past his post-nut clarity, Nick had chubbed up watching his own hole, er, wink at the camera.)

The pics before that were naked Charlie instead. Charlie’s massive cock, Charlie covered in cum, Charlie wearing that cowboy hat he’d swiped from the lost and found at Cuppa’s as he rode Nick. Okay, Nick needed to take fewer sex photos and more cute photos if he was going to start being a little more open about his relationship. Oh, who was he kidding, he could still take as many sex pics, he just needed to take a few more regular ones, too.

Finally, he alighted on one of Charlie from their date at the away game, holding a glass of sparkling sangria while laughing at something Nick had said and now couldn’t remember. He was perfectly lit, his eyes crinkled just so and his mouth split in a natural smile. Perfection.

“Here,” Nick said, turning his phone to face Otis and Christian. “No swiping.”

“Yeah, no worries, mate,” Otis replied as he leaned forward for a better look. “When I close my eyes tonight I don’t want to see you fucking someone… or someone fucking you, I don’t make assumptions.”

Christian looked over the image. “He’s fit, man. You landed a hottie, nice work.” Then he leaned in more and squinted. “He looks familiar though… wait, isn’t he the bloke who’s been coming to all our games? Yeah, I’ve seen him sitting with Imogen.”

“And what were you doing looking at Imogen?” Sai asked, his voice stern, although Nick knew him well enough to know he wasn’t really steamed. 

“I didn’t — I wasn’t — not like that, I just meant…” Christian sputtered as Sai maintained a stone cold visage. “I’m gonna go get another round, on me, yeah? Yeah? All right!”

He zipped away, and once he was out of sight Sai finally broke and started laughing, as did Nick and Otis.

“Knew I could get a free drink out of him,” Sai said when he recovered. “Too bad about Gemma, though.”

“What? Why?” Nick asked. “I thought he finally landed the plane.”

“Yeah, but Imogen’s been subtly suggesting a threeway with Christian since you seem to be immune to her powers,” Sai replied. “Now it seems he’s off the table, too.”

Nick tutted. “Just setback after setback for Immy. When will she find that second dick?”

They realised Otis was staring at them, the whites of his eyes clearly visible in his shock. Sai just looked at Nick and shrugged before downing the rest of his glass, as Nick broke out into laughter and Otis turned to stare off into the distance. He was learning more than he bargained for this evening.

 

***

 

Tara had asked Nick to meet for coffee before his next practice, so he’d suggested Cuppa’s, for no particular reason. Certainly not the sexy barista working the morning shift.

Nick was sipping his English breakfast tea and happily watching Charlie zip around the cafe when Tara arrived. He’d already gotten her oat flat white, so she plopped down, a little out of breath.

They caught up for a bit before Tara got around to the reason she’d asked to see Nick in person. 

“So, I have some maybe bad news. Gossip, really,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning in. “I have it from a good authority that there’s a rumour going around in the press. Something big on you in the works. Something bad.”

Nick’s stomach churned. Again? How many times would he have to do this? He became a rugby player to play rugby, not play whack-a-mole with the media. 

“I suspect it’s Borella Maguire, she’s weirdly had it out for you for a while,” Tara said. “But she’s not smart enough to dig anything up on her own. Have you pissed off anyone lately? You know, more than usual.”

Nick frowned. There was Ben, obviously, but the incident with him had been some time ago and apparently he’d been largely steering clear of Charlie at Hope PR. He was a snivelling little coward, anyway.

Then he remembered practice the other week, Harry flipping out at him. 

“Don’t fuck with me, Nelson. I will fucking end you.”

Harry’s words rang in Nick’s ears. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Harry said vague shit like that all the time, the result, Nick suspected, of a wealthy upbringing where daddy’s money was a useful cudgel. 

It was just heat-of-the-moment talk. Right?

Nick filled Tara in on the Harry stuff.

“Hmm. Could be him,” she said. “Didn’t you also help organise that little coup that kept him out of power?”

“Good lord, Tara, it was not a ‘coup,’” Nick replied. “I just helped influence the outcome of a democratic election.”

“Sounds like there’s plenty of reasons for Harry to hate you,” Tara said, thinking. “Do me a favour and stay away from him for a while, yeah? I’ll keep rooting around, see if I can figure out what Borella is up to.”

Nick hummed and looked over at Charlie. He was smiling while handing a customer their order. Their eyes met, just briefly, and Charlie’s eyes crinkled even more.

“Nick, focus,” Tara said, snapping her fingers. “We’re on the home stretch now. No fuck ups, no bad press, and in a couple weeks I’ll negotiate you a nice fat contract and set you up for life. Okay?”

While Tara spoke, Charlie turned away to work on something else.

Nick looked back at his agent. “Okay.”

All that day at practice, Nick kept an eye on Harry. 

He would have anyway. Everyone was. Harry’s downward streak had only plummeted further in the weeks since their altercation on the pitch, and today’s practice was no exception. Harry had screwed up more times than Nick could keep track of and his piss-poor attitude was infecting everyone else. Making things just a little worse, it was raining a little, not enough to be dangerous and cancel practice, but sufficient to make sure everyone was on edge. 

Never had Nick seen a professional player go downhill so quickly. He almost wondered if something was wrong with Harry to explain it. But seemingly not. Every entreaty for help had been rejected — not just turned down, but accompanied by literal and metaphorical middle fingers. 

Nick was caked in mud and wanted nothing more than to get in a shower and wash the filth and the day away. But they had to run a few more drills first. 

Nick didn’t see what happened, exactly, but after the next run-through wrapped up, he heard a commotion and turned around to see Kieran lying on the field, cradling his right leg. Harry was lying next to him, face up, breathing heavily as drops fell on him and Otis and Christian shouted at him. 

Everyone converged. Nick wouldn’t make out exactly what was being yelled, but it seemed Harry had fucked up again, and this time it had led to a nasty-sounding crack in Kieran’s tibia. The physios ran out on the field as Harry stood up and lurked nearby. 

Christ. They signalled for the stretcher. That was bad news. Kieran was likely headed to hospital for x-rays and such. Rugby players were used to injuries, but they were also used to walking them off. The problem was when you couldn’t walk it off.

The team watched them cart poor Kieran away before Coach Singh told them to hit the showers. 

“Greene, my office.”

Oof. Nick shared a look with Otis before he trudged off with Singh and Harry. Nick followed the rest of the guys into the changing room. They showered before Sai and Christian joined him in the sauna. They didn’t talk much; nobody knew what to say, really. The only bright spot in Nick’s mind was when Sai sat exactly where Nick himself had the time Charlie had come in and rode his cock. Nick thought Sai would find that funny, and possibly even sexy. But he wasn’t about to tell them and risk a permanent ribbing about fucking in the team facilities.

When the three of them emerged from the steam, Otis was just returning to the changing room.

“So?” Nick asked, the trio surrounding their captain.

“Suspended for the next game,” Otis said, sitting and peeling off his socks. “Possibly the rest of the season.”

Christian whistled in response.

“Yeah,” Otis said. “The crazy part is, I don’t think there’s going to be any pushback from upstairs. Apparently Mr. Greene’s been rather an arsehole lately, too. And Harry’s shite playing hasn’t exactly been a secret.”

“So now we’re down Harry and Kieran,” Sai said, shaking his head slowly. “We’re gonna have to be on our best or the Dragons are going to wipe the floor with us.”

The four men looked at one another grimly.

 

***

 

Charlie was staying over that night. After dinner, they’d puttered around a bit, hanging out with Sai and Imogen, but Charlie had to open Cuppa’s in the morning so they headed off to bed early. It tingled Nick a little when he could just casually get up and go to bed with his boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. 

Sai and Imogen didn’t even tease them with innuendo or anything. Nick supposed they were starting to find a little of that domestic bliss he’d read about but never experienced. 

They lounged in bed. Charlie read a book about magic historical linguists — Nick had a hard time following the plot as Charlie described it, and its thickness was giving him pause about tackling it himself, although maybe this summer… In the meantime, Nick had enjoyed a couple of games on his phone, but it wasn’t long before he found his attention wandering.

“You okay, baby?” Charlie asked, placing a bookmark in his novel and setting it aside. “You seem restless tonight.”

Nick set down his phone and turned his body a bit toward Charlie.

“Tara told me a little while ago that that reporter from WKSO is supposedly teasing a big scoop about me,” he said. “Something damaging. I don’t know what it is, but I suspect Harry Greene’s involved.”

Charlie mirrored Nick’s position so they were curled up facing one another.

“Harry, who got suspended today?”

Nick nodded in affirmation. “We’ve never gotten along, something to do with him being a rich bellend with more society connections than brain cells. He sort of threatened me the other week.”

“Nick,” Charlie groaned.

“Yeah, I know, but it was the kind of threat he made against me all the time,” Nick replied. “I didn’t give it a second thought until Tara told me about the rumours of a story.”

Charlie frowned. “And now that he’s sidelined, you’re worried about retaliation?”

Nick thought, then nodded.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said.

Nick tutted and pressed his finger against Charlie’s lips. Charlie huffed in response.

“Tell me about work. Is Ben…”

“Nice segue,” Charlie said sarcastically. “Actually… something did sort of happen today. Our office manager said they’re going to clear out a storage room to become my office.”

Nick lit up and instinctively pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug. “You’re finally getting an office! Oh my god, Char! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

When Nick pulled back, he saw Charlie looked hesitant.

“Oh, is it… something to do with Ben?” Nick inquired. “I thought he was leaving you alone. You said you’d tell me if he did anything, has he done anything?”

Charlie sighed. “No. He hasn’t done anything. A couple weird looks in staff meetings lately.”

“Weird like lurid? Or angry?”

He shook his head. “Weird like… I don’t know exactly. Nostalgic? Hopeful?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Good thing he has nothing to be hopeful about, not when it comes to you, Char.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I’d sooner date a rugby lad than go anywhere near him again.”

“Oh ho, it’s like that,” Nick gasped, grabbing a pillow and gently throwing it against Charlie. His boyfriend grabbed it and returned the downy volley. Nick easily deflected it and threw himself on top of Charlie, tickling him and just generally horsing around. Their laughter bounced off the walls.

It ceased suddenly when Nick’s erection — where had that come from? — rubbed up against Charlie’s.

They both stopped laughing on a dime and stared into the other’s face, probing his eyes.

“Maybe I could distract you from your worries about Ben with a blowie?” Nick asked, raising his eyebrows and his voice.

“God, yes,” Charlie moaned. “Just don’t mention the B-word again or I’ll lose the urge.”

Nick mimed zipping his lips shut and tossing away the keys. 

“Aren’t you going to need your mouth for this next bit?” Charlie asked with a smirk.

Nick looked thoughtful for a moment, then mimed unlocking and unzipping his mouth, which he immediately latched onto Charlie’s neck. His boyfriend giggled as Nick’s tongue laved over his skin, feeling his hot pulse underneath. Nick began peppering Charlie with kisses, none heavy enough to leave marks, until he made it to the neckline of his shirt.

“Can I…”

Charlie just lifted his arms in response, and Nick tugged the fabric over his head and tossed it away. He had seen Charlie naked… many times now, but faced with his fucking perfect body, Nick once again felt his breath taken away. He wondered if that feeling would ever stop. It better not. 

He worshipped his way south until he reached Charlie’s sleep pants. A simple glance up and Charlie was lifting his hips in permission. Nick slid his bottoms off and kissed around Charlie’s thighs, nuzzling the area until he took his mostly hard cock in his mouth and began licking and sucking it.

One hand carded through his hair as he worked, while Charlie’s other slid around his own nude torso. Nick fondled Charlie in one hand while using the other along his shaft, working his dick until Charlie was panting and muttering nonsensical praise above him.

Another five minutes later, Charlie was approaching climax, and Nick happily coaxed him along, pulling his balls just so and swirling his tongue in just the way that he knew drove Charlie wild. And then he was spilling down Nick’s throat, a loud grunt filling the air.

Nick made sure to hoover down every last drop, leaving Charlie’s cock clean as a whistle, before working his way back up his stomach and chest. His skin tasted slightly salty from the sex sweat, making Nick proud. He manoeuvred to Charlie’s side and slid onto his side, making out with his boyfriend languidly while he was boneless.

His own neglected cock, though, was poking Charlie in the hip.

“I think it’s time I returned the favour,” Charlie said with a grin. “Is that okay?”

Nick nodded, and Charlie pushed his shoulder until he was on his back. Charlie straddled him, purposefully guiding his body until Nick’s thick length was partially lodged inside Charlie’s cleft like a hot dog. How he wanted to thrust… but without lube it wouldn’t go well. They made out for a while until Charlie broke away and hopped down, taking Nick’s cock into his mouth quickly. 

Within a minute, Charlie’s nose was pressing against the coarse patch of hair north of Nick’s root. Nick pulled both his hands behind his head and enjoyed the feeling of his cockhead teasing Charlie’s oesophagus. 

Charlie worked his dick for a few minutes before one hand roved up Nick’s body, stopping to tweak his nipples for a while before heading for his lips. Charlie looked up through long eyelashes, Nick’s cock still in his mouth, until Nick got the message and opened up, letting two of Charlie’s fingers in. Hoping Charlie was headed this way, Nick did his best to coat them in saliva.

After a minute of moaning while licking Charlie’s fingers, he pulled them from Nick’s mouth and reached down underneath Nick’s balls. Fuck yes. Nick’s face was aflutter when he felt Charlie’s wet fingers probing his hole. It wasn’t as slick as with lube, but Charlie clearly wasn’t going very far. He worked the fingers in and crooked them, quickly finding Nick’s prostate.

The internal massage, combined with Charlie’s suction on his cock, forced Nick into making embarrassing keening noises. He soon felt the swell of tension inside him. Leaning up on his elbows, Nick warned Charlie, who only doubled down on his work until Nick cried out and spilled down his hungry throat. 

They snogged for some time after that, then spent a while simply laying beside one another, holding the other.

“I love you,” Charlie said, one hand idly tracking the lines of Nick’s abs, which he was flexing for the occasion.

Nick huffed. He could hardly believe Charlie said that, and now he said it all the time and it just got better and better. “I love you, too, Char.”

“So… did the blowjobs help with the anxiety?” Charlie asked.

Nick chose to lie.

“Yeah, it did.”

Charlie huffed.

“Me neither.”

 

***

 

The next day, Imogen and Charlie had left for Cuppa’s while Sai had a morning meeting with his agent to discuss the upcoming bidding season. Not that Nick needed any more anxiety, but he really liked Sai and was sad at the very real possibility that they’d end up on different teams next year. Along with “what would happen with Charlie if and when Nick moved,” it was another very real problem that he was keeping squashed in the back of his mind right now.

Nick was packing his kit for that day’s practice, which would be pretty light since tomorrow was the big Dragons game — mostly they’d be going over strategy and signals today — when there was a knock at the door.

Figuring someone had forgotten their key, Nick’s already tetchy mood instantly soured when he saw who was on the other side.

Ben Hope.

“Ben,” Nick said, trying not to let too much shock into his voice. “What are you doing here?”

He hadn’t seen Ben since the date night incident, when he managed to convince him they were effectively at a working meal. Nick had wondered ever since if Ben had really bought that flimsy excuse, but he’d not been harassing Charlie at work so Nick hadn’t much cared beyond that.

“Nicholas,” Ben said, stepping past Nick before he had a chance to interject and stop him. He talked as he walked through into the living room. “Just coming to check on one of our top clients. It’s been too long since I gave you the attention you deserve.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick replied. “Is this going to take long? I have to head out soon.”

“No, just a few minutes, I promise,” Ben said, his eyes darting around the space. Nick was grateful all his physical pictures of Charlie, including the photo booth strip from their away game mini-golf date, were in his bedroom instead.

“So,” he said, his eyes snapping to Nick. “Have you been satisfied with our services?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. My public image is in great shape.”

“And Charlie’s done good work?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. This was already highly suspect, but he didn’t like the direction it was heading.

“Yeah.”

“That’s great,” Ben grinned. “We like to offer the best possible service to our clients at Hope Public Relations.”

Ben raised his hand, which Nick noticed now was holding a manila envelope.

“But I have to say, Nick, I didn’t know Charlie was offering this level of service. Truly, above and beyond. Or maybe below and beyond, I don’t know exactly how you do things.”

He tossed the folder at Nick, who caught it but didn’t move to open it.

“Go on, Nick. You have to see this, it’s adorable.” Snake oil dripped from Ben’s mouth as he spoke, his lips settling into a vile smirk.

Carefully, Nick unsealed it and pulled out the contents. It was a series of photos, blown up to show the detail. One was of Nick and a laughing Charlie — apparently taken at the tapas place they went during the away game. A few more shots showed them playing mini-golf. A snapshot of them at the ice cream place. If Nick’s stomach hadn’t fallen into a pit, he’d think about getting these framed and hung on his wall; they showcased Charlie’s beauty so well.

Nick looked up, his face stony with anger.

“Yeah, sorry, had you followed,” Ben said with glee. “God, that looked like a fun night! So cute! Oh but… you haven’t seen the best part yet.” Nick looked back down and noticed a few more shots in the pile. “You see, those pictures could be explained away as friend stuff. But uh… those last photos. Well. Friends don’t do that.”

Nick flipped through and yes, there were some pictures of him and Charlie kissing on that bridge. It was dark, but there was just enough light and the private investigator must have had a hell of a telephoto lens because it was clearly them.

His hands shook slightly and hot rage flowed through his veins. There was a good chance Ben wouldn’t be leaving his flat alive. Nick tried all his anger management techniques — ironically, many of them learned from Charlie — but it was no good. This anger was just and righteous, and could not simply be dismissed.

“Why are you showing me this?” he grunted.

“Oh yes, oh. This is the awkward part,” Ben laughed. “The, you know, blackmail part.”

Nick clenched his eyes. Obviously. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“Don’t worry, Nick, it’s easy!” Ben said, waving his hands in front of himself. “All you have to do is break things off with Charlie. Let’s say… by tomorrow night at 8? I know you have a big game coming up and I’d hate to distract you.”

Nick got the distinct impression from his tone that Ben was being sarcastic.

“Okay,” Ben said, clapping his hands together. “So. Break up with Charlie by tomorrow night, or these pictures go to Borella Maguire at WKSO. Got it?”

It all clicked into place. The rumours Tara had heard. It was Ben, not Harry. Ben — who was technically Nick’s own publicist — was going to blow up his life and his career unless he broke off his relationship. 

“Why are you doing this?” Nick trilled.

“Isn’t it obvious, Nick?” Ben replied, “You stole Charlie from me, and now I want him back. Look, it’s nothing personal, you seem like a nice enough guy, when you aren’t letting wild packs of dogs loose in the streets and screaming at baristas.”

Nick set the photos down on the dining table and crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his huge arms. Ben glanced down and flashes of fear and lust passed over his face before he looked back up at Nick, again in control of his emotions.

“I didn’t ‘steal’ Charlie from you, you arsehole,” Nick growled. “You never even actually liked him, anyway, did you?”

“Hey, I’m the aggrieved party here,” Ben shot back. “All right, I’ll admit, I haven’t always treated Charlie the best. But he still has some feelings for me, I know it. You know it, too. Why else would he still be working for me?”

“Because you’re an emotionally abusive wanker who would tank him with any future employer. Charlie said you’ve done it before.”

Ben scoffed. “That’s a lie, come off it.”

Nick stepped closer, into Ben’s personal space. The smaller man backed away warily.

“But that doesn’t really matter,” Ben continued, gulping slightly, his voice very slightly less certain. “Because by tomorrow night, he’ll be single again and I can be the boyfriend he deserves. Or else I’ll out you and end your career.”

Nick felt that threat in his bones. It was taking all his willpower not to put his rugby muscles to better use right now, wrapped around Ben’s trachea. He was practically apoplectic, but kept a unrelenting face and hulking stance.

“You know why all the rugby players come out after they retire?” Ben asked. “Because if they did it earlier, they wouldn’t have careers to retire from.”

He stepped around Nick and walked toward the front door.

“Oh, you can keep those shots, I have so many more,” Ben said, gesturing at the surveillance photos of Nick and Charlie as he passed. “Text me confirmation it’s done by 8 tomorrow night or Borella gets the photos.” And with that, he was gone.

The door closed behind him. Nick wondered if it was closing on his relationship with Charlie as well.

Notes:

CW: Blackmail

The book Charlie is reading is Babel by R.F. Kuang. I'm reading it now and highly recommend if you're into historical fantasy.

Chapter 22

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Charlie creampies Nick. Tara warns of vague rumours floating about. Nick clashes with Harry Greene. Nick and Charlie are anxious and a little horny. Ben shows up with an ultimatum for Nick

This time: Nick is anguished about how to respond to Ben. He visits Charlie before the big game against the Dragons.

Notes:

KitSaidOui really came through for me this week. Thank you for your beta reading efforts and for everything else, too.

After Ben left, Nick stood there, uncertain what to do. Was there, like, some protocol to follow when someone showed up and blackmailed you? WikiHow probably wouldn’t be any help.

Eventually, he had to leave for that day’s light practice and strategy review session. The walk to the stadium was a complete blur; Nick could have walked past his own mother and not seen her. The same thoughts just kept swirling around in his head, but most notably the thought that this was why he had vowed to close himself off at the start of the season. Having broken that vow, he now faced an impossible choice between the two things he loved most.

Nick was a mess on the field, and it didn’t help that they were still trying to incorporate two backups into the starting line with Harry benched and Kieran laid up. Misstarts, fumbles and poor communication completely marred the day. 

“Get your head in the game, Nelson!” Coach Singh yelled at him at one point. 

Eventually, they broke to clean up and go over some video of the Dragons’ most recent games, looking for patterns. Nick was usually quite active in those tactical discussions, pointing out minor things that often proved to be significant insights. But he made nary a peep this time, failing to really watch any of the footage and letting the rest talk around him. 

It didn’t go unnoticed.

Otis had Nick stay behind in the film room.

“What’s going on, man?” he asked calmly. 

“Sorry, Otis.”

His captain sighed. “Nick, I’m not looking for sorry, I want to know what’s bothering you and how I can fix it.”

Nick avoided his gaze, staring at the cheap carpeted floor. “It’s nothing. Nothing you can do, anyway.”

Otis sighed. He definitely didn’t believe Nick.

“I’m sorry I don’t have the luxury of giving you time and space to figure this out,” Otis said. “But I fucking need you, mate. We’re down two and the Dragons are going to burn us alive tomorrow unless you pull a miracle out of your arse.”

Nick’s chest felt like it was caving in. He was letting Otis and his team down. 

It wasn't just that poor gameplay or a loss to the Dragons would hurt Nick’s professional chances a little at this moment.

Last year… hell, at the start of this season, even, Nick had thought of the Blackbirds as a stepping stone. Somewhere he’d be for a couple of years, then on to bigger and better things. A truly top-tier team, hopefully, in a nice big city.

Somehow, the Blackbirds had become a home to him. This small city in the north had become a home. There were Sai and Imogen, Tara and Darcy, Otis and Christian. And Charlie. Nick felt a pull for the first time in his nearly two years here.

But if Nick was outed… Ben wasn’t wrong about one thing. Rugby players come out after they retire. Not before.

He never should have let himself get involved with Charlie. He definitely never should have fallen in love. Because now he’d have to let him go. To do otherwise… Nick was having a hard time imagining a path where it wouldn’t lead to the end of his career. And then he would be worth truly nothing.

“You’re right,” he said, looking up at Otis. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

Otis, not knowing the magnitude of Nick’s words, clapped him on the back and walked off. Nick wished he could curl up and die.

 

***

 

Sai and Nick had a muted evening in, with Sai also feeling uncharacteristically down in the dumps after this week’s setbacks. Nick had even weightier issues on his mind. Without their partners, who were spending the night before the game away, Nick and Sai were a sad pair, eating a basic meal of grilled chicken and broccoli before spending some time watching some nature documentaries. Even cute little otters couldn’t get Nick out of his horrid funk, not even for a brief moment, and finally both of them called it a night early.

Nick lay in bed, feeling so much fury. He was obviously enraged at Ben, the snivelling little cunt. He hated him for everything: For the blackmail, for how he treated Charlie as an employee, for how he treated Charlie as a boyfriend. It made Nick retch to think that he’d ever considered Ben an ally in his efforts to torment Charlie.

But Nick was infuriated with himself as well. The word “coward” rang inside his head constantly, inescapable. At first, he meant it only in the sense of failing to stand up to Ben’s threats, of giving in and planning to break up with Charlie rather than beating that piece of shit to a pulp. But as he thought, Nick realised his whole life was cowardly. He’d been shutting himself away for years, because being open meant getting hurt. Keeping women at bay. Keeping away from men with a ten-foot pole. The only people who had made it in were persistent beyond what was reasonable, who forced their way into his life despite Nick’s prickliness: Sai and Imogen, and now Charlie.

His rampaging thoughts always came back to Charlie.

He wasn’t supposed to fall in love this early. It wasn’t part of his plan. But Charlie wrecked that plan, without even meaning to. He was just that powerful. 

If this was going to be their last night together, Nick didn’t want to spend it alone.

Nick Nelson [21:06]: Char, are you awake?

Charlie Spring [21:06]: i am!

Charlie Spring [21:06]: doing something sexxxxxy… cleaning the fridge

Nick Nelson [21:08]: Can I come over?

Charlie Spring 21:08]: yeah--are you ok?

Nick Nelson [21:09]: Not really, no

Charlie Spring [21:09]: come over, i’ll put the kettle on

Nick called for an Uber while he slipped on shoes and grabbed his things. He could walk to Charlie’s but honestly he just wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Quietly, he snuck out of the flat and downstairs.

“Oh, no way, Nick Nelson!” said his driver when he climbed in. Ugh, great. “Huge fan, mate!” the guy, Ronaldo, said as Nick buckled up.

“Nice to meet you,” Nick mumbled.

“Ooh, big game tomorrow!” Ronaldo continued, oblivious to Nick’s muted mood. “You think you can win against the fucking Dragons? Ooh, pardon my language.”

Like Nick cared about cursing. “Erm… we’re going to do our best,” he replied. Weak shit, but Ronaldo didn’t seem to care — he immediately started ranting about his secret defence plan that Nick paid no attention to. Mercifully, traffic was nonexistent and the drive was short, so it wasn’t long before they arrived at Charlie’s.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Ronaldo exclaimed as Nick got out. “You’re gonna crush the bastards cuz you’re the fucking rugby prince!”

Nick tried to ignore Ronaldo’s words and ran upstairs. 

He wrapped himself around Charlie the second he opened his door, embracing his warmth and understanding. His nose filled first with the scent of almonds from Charlie’s hair, then of clean cotton from Charlie’s pyjama shirt as Nick turned his face further into Charlie’s shoulder. Outside of his mother’s embrace, nuzzled against Charlie was the most tranquil place Nick knew. 

“Hey, Nick, it’s okay,” Charlie whispered soothingly. Why did physical contact feel like Nick’s batteries were getting recharged? As if Charlie was his power source.

“What’s wrong, Nick?” When he didn’t answer right away, Charlie continued. “This big game tomorrow has you really worried, huh? Come on, you silly sausage, tea should be just about ready.”

Nick reluctantly let him go, keeping one of Charlie’s hands grasped in his own, and followed him into the kitchen. Charlie was in his fruit pyjamas again, and if Nick hadn’t felt like the worst person in the world right now he would smile and tease Charlie about them like he always did, to mask the fact that he actually found those jammies adorable.

Charlie fixed his mug just like Nick always took it and ordered him to the couch, following a few moments later with his own tea. He snuggled up against Nick as he settled, and the two of them just smiled wanly and sipped their drinks, silence permeating the small flat. Normally, a good cup of tea was the perfect panacea; tonight, it did nothing to help Nick.

“So,” Charlie finally spoke up. “Is this something you want to talk about? Or just snuggle?” Nick didn’t respond right away, so Charlie continued into humour territory. “Or I could try juggling? I can’t juggle, at all, but maybe watching me drop a bunch of shit would make you feel better.”

Nick managed to huff out a pity laugh.

“Could we just snuggle, please?”

Charlie’s eyes crinkled. “You got it.”

He stood, set Nick’s mug on the coffee table and took him by the hand into his room. 

“Big spoon or little?”

“Erm. Little.”

Charlie lay down and curled up invitingly. Nick shed his shoes and trousers and climbed in, moulding his back to Charlie’s front under the duvet. He settled in as Charlie wrapped one arm around his front, gently stroking the hairs on his arm and humming a little. The vibrations felt nice, like a cat purring, and his nose filled with the comforting almond scent he now viscerally connected with Charlie’s hair. Soon, he felt Charlie’s warmth seeping into him under the fluffy covers.

It was comforting, but Nick needed more. He wanted to see Charlie.

“Just gonna,” he said, shuffling around until he was lying on his other side facing Charlie. Much better. They were still sharing heat under the duvet, but Nick could actually see Charlie now, confirm that he was real and really there. Nick’s eyes drifted across his boyfriend’s face, taking in each little feature he was in love with. 

His thick, commanding eyebrows. 

His eyes, as blue as the sadness blooming in Nick. 

His dimples, though Charlie wasn't smiling widely enough to show them right now. 

Those perfect, pink lips. 

The stubble emerging from his sharp jawline; Nick guessed Charlie hadn’t shaved this morning. 

And of course: those curls. Nick wanted to take Charlie into the woods somewhere and write poetry about his hair. The only poems Nick knew how to write were limericks, so once he tired of making dirty jokes about those locks, he'd learn how to write the rest, sonnets, haiku... there were probably more kinds of poetry, Nick would learn about them, too.

“I really love you, Charlie,” Nick said without any planning or prompting. “A lot. Like, it scares me how much.” His voice was fully sincere, and Charlie clearly sensed that.

“It scares me a little too sometimes, Nick,” Charlie said, running his thumb along Nick’s cheek. “I have a hard time believing someone wonderful like yourself wants to be with someone like me.”

Normally Nick would chide Charlie for saying that about himself. He hated that Charlie thought there was some kind of imbalance between them. Actually — well, that was true, Nick realised, one of them was so much better than the other. But Charlie had it backwards.

Nick withdrew into himself a little, looking away from Charlie’s eyes. “I’m not wonderful.”

“You are—”

“I’m not, Charlie,” Nick interrupted, a little more forcefully than intended. “I’m a bad person.”

“You owe me ten quid, love,” Charlie replied.

Nick was confused. “What?”

“For the self-deprecation jar.”

“That’s just a pound.”

“That’s what Sai charges,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m your boyfriend, sweetie, and for me it’s a tenner.”

“I’ll… have to IOU,” Nick ultimately mumbled.

Charlie hummed okay and they lay there for another minute before Nick was overcome with love and leaned forward, kissing Charlie. The kiss was gentle and slow and nostalgic, not hurried and lustful. 

A while passed with just snogging when Nick’s free hand began roving along Charlie’s body, the bony spurs and smooth curves hiding under his pyjamas. Nick pressed forward until Charlie was mostly lying on his back, draping part of his own body on top of Charlie’s as they continued to kiss, a little more urgently now.

Nick could feel Charlie’s erection trapped against his hip while his own cock cried for freedom.

He shouldn’t do this. It wasn't fair to Charlie because he didn't know it had to be their last time. But he wanted to give Charlie pleasure, one last time. No, that wasn't it, at least not primarily. It was selfish and cruel, but Nick realised he fucking needed to be with the person he loved once more before it all went away and he was alone again, probably forever. It wasn’t sexy feeling this need out of desperation and not love or even lust, but Nick squashed that horrible feeling down — he’d been doing that a lot lately — and let his palm slide between them until it pressed against Charlie’s dick.

“Charlie,” Nick warbled. “Can I fuck you? Please?”

Charlie scrunched up his face. “What about The Rule?”

Oh, right. Fuck.

“Sod The Rule,” Nick replied. “I can’t… tonight I just need… I need you, Char, please, if you’ll have me.”

“God, Nick, you can always have me,” Charlie moaned. They pulled apart and began peeling off clothing. “As long as you’re not going to be mad at me after the game tomorrow,” Charlie added as he peeled his shirt over his head. “It’s supposed to be nice and warm, I’m quite looking forward to it after freezing my ta-tas off all these months.”

Nick paused undressing. “I won’t be mad, Charlie, I’ll never be mad at you.”

Confusion flashed across Charlie’s eyes. “It was just a joke, darling.”

“I know,” Nick said as he pushed his pants down to the floor. “But I meant what I said.”

Charlie leaned back, his head on the pillows.

“Okay.”

Nick grabbed the lube, knelt by Charlie’s side and leaned over to continue kissing him while he opened him up. By now, they moved together like a musician playing his instrument; between the fingerwork and Charlie’s breathing, Nick could expertly respond to his every need without any words passing between them. There was the twitching and moaning and gasping, the shared breath and pressed foreheads together. Nick adroitly worked Charlie open until he was ready.

Nick pressed more lube inside Charlie and then slicked himself up and got into position between Charlie’s open legs. He paused and ran his hands up Charlie’s torso, feeling his flesh under his palms, the hard parts and the soft, the stomach Nick wanted to lick, the chest he wanted to mark as his own. But it wasn’t his, or wouldn’t be for long.

Jarred from those thoughts, Nick shook them from his mind and pressed into Charlie, going slow and steady. There it was again, that tight heat welcoming him home, and god how he missed it. Charlie’s little whimpers as Nick filled him came like a symphony; Nick tried to remember every gasp and grunt, the hitch of Charlie’s voice, his sinful, lilting mewl as they became one. 

That’s when it truly hit Nick. This was their last time. He’d known that, of course, but as he finally sank completely into Charlie, he felt the sorrow settle in his bones. This was it.

He thought again about stopping, telling Charlie now. But what good would it do this wonderful man? Nick decided to use every last second he had left to make Charlie feel good. No need to hasten the pain. The hatred Charlie would rightly feel for Nick.

“Nick,” Charlie sighed, enunciating the hard ‘k’ at the end of his name and stretching his arms out happily. “Love feeling you fill me up, god.”

Nick slowly leaned down until he was face to face with Charlie. “I love filling you up, Charlie,” he muttered, looking straight into those blue pools before kissing Charlie.

Eventually, Charlie shifted his hips insistently. 

“Come on, Nick, please fuck me.”

Nick reared back on his haunches and gave a tentative thrust. Beneath him, Charlie gasped at the sensation, and Nick repeated the motion.

Their sex that night walked a tightrope, not wild and lustful, but not lazy and leisurely, either. It was marked by deep-felt passion and tender efforts, perfectly balanced. The kind of sex Nick could have for the rest of his life.

They changed positions a couple of times over the half-hour of lovemaking, with Charlie riding Nick briefly before they lay side by side and Nick was able to kiss and lick at the nape of Charlie’s neck while sniffing the almond scent of his hair. 

But in the end, they came back around to that classic, one of Nick’s favourites: Charlie on his back, Nick pressing into him. It was the perfect view of the perfect man, every twitch of his face on display, every utterance from his throat projected right at Nick’s ears. 

“I’m close Nick, fuck,” Charlie whined as Nick pulled at his long, leaking cock trapped between their bodies. 

In a brazen display of athleticism, Nick leaned over Charlie without crushing him while still managing to pull him off and fuck into him with long, luscious strokes. His lips mere centimetres away from Charlie’s, Nick looked him directly in the eyes.

“Come for me, Charlie, please, want to watch you come apart on my cock,” he moaned.

Charlie’s breathing grew ragged and Nick felt his cock begin pulsing in his hand. With a cry, Charlie erupted between them, covering them both with his spend as his hot breath cascaded over Nick’s face. Nick kept fucking Charlie through his orgasm, even as his rim spasmed around Nick’s cock, like he was trying to hold on to him.

“Oh, Nick,” Charlie murmured when he’d come down, his voice low and tender, and that was what toppled Nick over the edge. He pushed back on his bent toes one last time, sliding all the way into Charlie before releasing everything he had into his boyfriend. As he came, Nick finally did collapse a bit onto Charlie, his head falling into the familiar nook of Charlie’s shoulder as Nick cried out.

“I love you, Charlie, fuck, I love you!”

And then he was overcome by all the ambivalent emotions wrestling inside him — love and affection and desire, and fear and self-hatred and anger. It was so much, too much, and Nick realised he was bawling on top of Charlie. This was it. Their last time together. Nick wanted to throw up at the thought, and he wanted to sear every nanosecond of it into his brain.

After a few moments, Charlie realised that Nick’s shaking wasn’t the standard post-orgasm reaction. He lifted Nick’s head up until he saw the tears flowing down his face.

“Oh, Nick, love, what’s wrong?”

A fresh round of tears followed his question, for Nick knew he couldn’t tell Charlie the true reason he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he keened, his throat aching painfully. The apology wasn’t for crying right now, it was for the unforgivable thing he was about to do, but Charlie didn’t know that.

“It’s okay, Nick, it’s okay to feel these things,” he whispered soothingly, running his hands up and down Nick’s heaving back. Nick’s tears slid down his face and dropped onto Charlie, mixing with the spend there. “Just like me at that hotel, I get it, Nick.”

Only Charlie didn’t get it. He was pure and perfect, and Nick was the opposite of those things. I’m a coward and a bastard.  

The overwhelming shame brought his crying jag to an end, and he regained enough control that his instinct for aftercare kicked in. He pulled out of Charlie, trying to commit to memory even the oversensitivity of that movement, and cleaned him off with wipes before pulling Charlie up for a shower together. Charlie seemed to sense Nick couldn’t or didn’t want to talk, so they worked wordlessly.

With warm water cascading over them, Nick rubbed the soapy flannel over every inch of Charlie’s lithe frame, recording each muscle and skin fold and blemish to his memory. He didn’t deserve to touch a masterpiece like this, but Nick committed to worshipping Charlie the way he should be worshipped, one last time. Nick gave himself a cursory clean and then they were back in bed, Nick wrapped around Charlie, hugging him tightly against his front. 

The pit in his stomach, of course, had not gone away. His guts had only become more twisted with shame and anger. Nick was awake, his mind racing, long after Charlie had fallen asleep in his arms.

What little sleep Nick got that night was restless, full of nightmares that flitted away from his memory when he awoke, leaving behind only a nebulous sense of loss. By dawn, Charlie had shifted in his sleep to face Nick. He watched in the golden early morning light as his face was slowly illuminated. 

Nick cried again, silently and still, lying there beside Charlie. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually wept — a decade? More? His brother had berated him for it after their father left, so Nick learned how to turn off the waterworks. Ximena would probably have a lot to say about that. But this morning, he dampened Charlie’s pillows with his silent tears. 

Later, after his face and the pillowcase had dried, Charlie drifted into the waking world. 

“Mmmm…. morning,” he said, his voice crackling from the night as he stretched his slender arms. 

“Morning,” Nick replied, trying to hide the dread while he brushed back Charlie’s hair.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly fucking beautiful?” he murmured.

Charlie shook his head and grinned. “Been a few hours, I was starting to worry.”

“Well, then you should know I’m thinking that thought every second of every day,” Nick said. “Even if I’m on the pitch or talking to mum on the phone or playing video games with Sai, I’m always thinking about how fucking beautiful Charlie Spring is. And how I’ve been the luckiest person in the entire world to experience that up close.”

“Jesus, Nicholas, all this cringe,” Charlie muttered, pressing his face into his pillow. “Is everything okay?”

Nick smiled weakly. “Don’t worry about me, baby.”

“Can you stay for breakfast?”

Nick checked his phone. “No. Gotta go.”

A sigh. “Well, then I’ll see you after the game?”

They made plans to rendezvous at the stadium’s friends and family area once Nick had cleaned up; Charlie was used to the post-match waiting by now. A twinge shot through Nick’s heart at the fact that Charlie had gotten used to some part of his life, and at just the worst time. 

You’re a real piece of shit.

“Good luck, then,” Charlie said, pulling the now-dressed Nick down by his collar to kiss him. Nick let himself lean into the embrace, each of them probing the other’s mouth in a needy way that on any other day would lead to mutual blowjobs, at the very least. 

Finally, Nick broke away and pressed their foreheads together.

“I really gotta—”

“I know.”

Nick stood and looked back at Charlie from the doorway.

“Char? I love you. Will you remember that?”

Charlie, his arms wrapped around his bent knees, rolled his eyes. “You’ve only told me like a thousand times, so yeah, I think I’ll remember.”

Nick looked down, then back up. “No, I mean… when you look back on all this. Just know that I loved you, completely. Yeah?”

Charlie squinted. “Nick, what’s…”

He shook his head. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Got a game to play first.”

“Okay… Good luck.”

Nick was at Charlie’s front door when he heard him call out. Charlie emerged from his bedroom a moment later, wrapping a robe around himself.

“Nick,” he said. “I want you to remember something, too. I love you. You got that?”

God, every passing second was another reminder of how fucking unworthy of Charlie’s love Nick was. He felt an uncomfortable pressure deep in his throat. It was all he could do not to let more tears drop here.

“Got it,” he said, wrapping Charlie in a quick hug. “See you later. Bye.”

And then he was gone.

 

***

 

While changing with the team before the match, Nick texted Ben that he planned to tell Charlie afterward. He’d spent the past 24 hours wracking his brain, hoping to think up some way to turn the table on Ben, nullify his blackmail, but no fresh idea had availed itself.

Just before he turned to walk away from his cubby, Nick’s phone dinged.

Benjamin Hope [15:48]: Great to hear. You’re making the right call. 

Benjamin Hope [15:48]: Trust me, Nick, I’m doing you a favour taking Charlie off your hands.

A favour? A fucking favour? As if Charlie was some burden on Nick? 

He felt like his skin was about to burst into flame, pure rage coursing through his veins. For the moment, all Nick could do was try and channel that rage into a win for the Blackbirds. After that, he could let himself fantasise about pressing against Ben’s throat until…

As they ran out onto the pitch, Nick noticed Sai beside him turn and do his customary wave at Imogen. Charlie would surely be sitting beside her, but Nick wasn’t strong enough to look at Charlie again right now, so he didn’t look back, even though he knew it would likely leave Charlie confused and hurt. 

Nick did manage to score one try early on, drawing a roar from the hometown crowd, but that seemed to deplete all of the Blackbirds’ luck. In the half-hour after, the Dragons blew past their defence three more times, taking a commanding lead. He spent the halftime break in the changing room, head low as Coach Singh tried walking them through a change in tactics. 

It didn’t work. Thirty-nine minutes later, Nick’s early try was the only time the Blackbirds had scored, while the Dragons had scored another three times. Fucking abysmal. As the clock ticked down, Nick got close to the Dragons’ end, but the scrum went south and Nick ended up flailing helplessly beneath half a dozen burly fucks.

And that was time. Nick got to experience that horrid, awkward feeling of the Blackbirds fans filing out of the stadium quietly rather than shouting joyous cheers of victory. The sound of ten thousand people shuffling away wasn’t easily forgotten. Usually Nick was somewhere between depressed and morose after a loss, but today his body brimmed with fury. He was being blackmailed into breaking up with Charlie, whom he loved, all to save his stupid rugby career that amounted to absolutely fucking nothing today. 

While the rest of the guys traipsed to the changing room to clean up, Nick veered off for the otherwise empty gym, where his fists quickly found the punching bag. He started off imagining Ben’s face, which brought a tiny amount of satisfaction as he pummelled the bag. Nick hadn’t bothered to put on gloves or even some wrapping, so his knuckles quickly began reddening against the tough leather of the bag. 

At some point, Ben’s face turned into Nick’s own. He was a prick, a fucking coward, a selfish bastard, a hulking garbage troll… he imagined his fist connecting with his own face, over and over, bruises forming on his imaginary visage and across his real-life knuckles. He didn’t even notice he was crying, practically blinded by tears, until someone suddenly grabbed him around the shoulders and yanked him away from the punching bag.

“Nick! Nick, stop! Nick! Fuck!”

Nick struggled in Otis’s arms for a few moments until he realised what was happening and stopped moving. Otis released him slightly and Nick fell to his knees, gasping and sobbing.

“Oh god, Nick, what on earth…” Otis said, bewildered. “You’ve never taken a loss this badly.”

“It’s fucked, Otis,” Nick wailed. “It’s fucked and it’s all my fault.”

“Nick…” Otis sounded broken. “The game is important, but you’re more important.” 

Otis knelt down and wrapped his arms around the heaving Nick. They stayed like that for a minute as Nick came down from his mania. 

Someone — Nick thought it was a woman from the communications office — was calling Otis’s name in the corridor. Otis shouted that he’d be right there.

“Fuck, I have the presser,” Otis said, releasing Nick. “Nick, will you wait in my office? I’m worried about you. Promise me you’ll wait there and you won’t harm yourself further. Please?”

Nick finally looked at Otis properly. He looked genuinely scared by Nick’s actions. That fear in his friend’s eyes momentarily jarred Nick out of his fury. He nodded, and walked with Otis to his office. It was a small space, just room for a desk and some chairs. Otis barely ever used it anyway, but it was somewhere no one else would go in the meantime. 

“Do you want me to get Sai? Or… I could call Charlie?”

Nick sat in the desk chair, looking at his raw knuckles. He’d done a number on that bag. The physios were going to be pissed at him.

He shook his head. If he talked to Sai, Nick was sure he would break down. And the idea of Charlie seeing him right now… Nick would rather curl up and die.

“Okay,” Otis said. “I’ll see you after, yeah? You’ll be here, we’ll talk about it?”

Nick nodded, speech escaping him. Otis paused a moment more before closing the door behind him. 

The room was quiet; he could practically hear his own racing heartbeat ricocheting off the wall. He tried some breathing exercises. If Nick hadn’t been about to rip into two pieces, he would have laughed about the idea of explaining everything that had happened to him in the past 24 hours to Ximena. He wondered if he was beyond the help of therapy. 

Ever since Otis had mentioned Charlie’s name, Nick couldn’t stop seeing his face. He remembered cursing that face when they first met, when Charlie was shooting him icy glares as he tried to cut the queue. But once Nick had stopped being such a twatwaffle, once he got to know the real Charlie… now all he saw was grace and compassion. And those dimples.

He’d been so wrong about Charlie. He’d been wrong about a lot of things, it felt like. 

Suddenly the audio on a television on the wall kicked in. Nick glanced over; it was live footage of the press conference around the corner, piped through CCTV. Otis was apologising for being late and slid into a chair next to Coach Singh.

“Otis, how are you feeling after that big loss today?” asked Red Kazminski from Ace Sports.

“Kazzy, I won’t lie, we went into this as underdogs and we came out of it even further under,” Otis replied.

“It didn’t help that you were down two first stringers,” added another reporter, Hope Wessex. “We know Kieran Knightley broke his leg, but what exactly happened to Harry Greene?”

“He’s recovering as well, not getting into specifics there, thanks,” Coach Singh cut in.

“What about Nick Nelson?” asked an unfamiliar voice with a New Zealand accent. Nick’s eyes snapped to the screen at the mention of his name. “He’s been doing well but fumbled several key plays today. And that last scrum… yowza.”

“Sorry, you are?”

“Kelso, Dolly Kelso, New Zealish Rugby Times.”

“You’re a long way from home,” Otis quipped.

“Oh, I’m only in town for the Troye Sivan concert,” they shot back. “Just have to cover this game so I can expense the plane ticket.”

The room laughed. “But really,” Kelso pushed, “your so-called ‘rugby prince’ completely dropped the ball today.”

Nick huffed sadly. He’d dropped the ball literally and metaphorically. Fucked up and right at the worst possible time. 

“Nick Nelson is a great player who had an off day,” Otis replied. “He played his best today, and that’s all I ever ask of anyone. Nick is truly one of the most upstanding guys I’ve ever known. It’s been an honour having him on the Blackbirds these past two years and I’m already envious of whoever snaps him up.”

Nick didn’t feel very upstanding. He felt like complete shit.

Nick found the remote and muted the television. He leaned back and rubbed his heels against his eyes.

“The game is important, but you’re more important.”

Otis’s words ran through his head on repeat. 

Nick had a choice: his career or Charlie.

And it was a choice.

Suddenly, the calculus seemed a lot more clear. His career might — probably would — take a hit if he came out. Fewer bids, lesser pay — maybe nobody would sign him, and that would be the end of his career, in his mid-20s. Nick wasn’t sure who he’d be without rugby.

But who would Nick be without Charlie? Nick thought he might die. Not all at once in some melodramatic Romeo-and-Juliet drama, but little pieces of him, pieces that Nick had fostered over the past year with Charlie’s help — they would wither away inside him until he was back to the petulant, isolated, lonely person he was before.

Nick couldn’t bear to go back to that existence.

And he’d rather work at Cuppa’s with Charlie for the rest of his life and feel alive than alone in some luxury flat somewhere posh and be dead inside.

Nick’s eyes flicked back up to the screen as he rubbed his mouth with one hand. He was making the wrong choice. How had he not seen that before? 

“Fuck it.”

He stood, opened the door and marched down the hall to the press room.

Singh was in the middle of defending a failed play from the second half but trailed off as she watched Nick walk up to the dais. Otis’s eyes followed Nick as well, clearly wary. Nick didn’t blame him; he’d been rather unstable just a few minutes ago. But now he had both feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Hi all, sorry to interrupt,” Nick said, reaching down and picking up the microphone from in front of Otis. 

“Just wanted to stop by and announce that I, Nick Nelson, am bisexual and in a relationship with a man. I understand there will be a lot of public curiosity about my private life, but I’d ask everyone to please respect me and those I love.”

He paused for a beat, staring out at two dozen shocked reporters and camera operators who were beaming his statement out to the world live. 

Nick looked down when he felt Otis’s hand patting him on the back; his captain was grinning up at him.

With the press still too stunned to speak, Nick set down the mic and started walking away. Faced with possibly the biggest sports story of the year making an exit, the corps started shouting questions at Nick. Most of them were too mixed up to make out, but one inquiry made it through to Nick’s ears: “Why are you coming out now?”

He paused, turned around and picked up the mic again.

“Why am I doing this now?” he repeated. “Because my publicist, Ben Hope of Hope Public Relations, blackmailed me and threatened to out me. I chose to come out to avoid the suggestion that I’m somehow ashamed of myself or my boyfriend, because nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Nick, are you worried this will tank interest in you during bidding?” Kazminski shouted.

“No, I’m not worried,” Nick replied. “Any team that wouldn’t want me because I’m bi is a team I wouldn’t want to play for anyway.”

“Nick, who is your boyfriend? Is it Sai Verma?”

Nick laughed in what felt like the first time in ages.

“No, it’s not Sai Verma, and beyond that I’m walking away now. Thank you.”

He dropped the mic, literally — boy that felt good — and walked out as two dozen journalists shouted after him. Nick made his way to the changing room, pushing past the crowd of guys staring at him dumbfounded until he reached his phone in his cubby. He needed to message Charlie. The lock screen showed several incoming messages already, including one from his mother who said one of the boys in her wing had just pressed his emergency button, summoning her just to say he’d seen Nick come out on Sky Sports.

Nick didn’t get much farther because he was tackled from behind.

“Nick, you bloody LEDGE!” Christian shouted, squeezing him tight.

“Fucking righteous, mate,” Sai yelped as well. He craned his head back. “Though maybe you didn’t have to actually laugh when they asked if I was your boyfriend. Rrrrude!” 

Nick giggled and pushed them off him. Turning, he saw at least dozen more guys from the team had circled up, smiling.

“You know I love you, Sai, but not like that,” Nick replied. “If you’ll all excuse me, I really need to text Charlie because I kind of went rogue there and—”

“NICHOLAS FUCKING NELSON!”

Nick would know that bellow anywhere.

The whole team turned to look at the lanky man with curly hair standing off to the side. He must have pushed past security, though Nick didn’t blame them given the scowl plastered across Charlie’s face.

“WHY didn’t you tell me Ben was blackmailing you, you absolute twatwaffle?” he shouted as he walked up to Nick, cutting through the surrounding rugby players like a shark through water. 

Then he was grabbing Nick by the collar and pressing a wet kiss onto him. He finished and stepped back, only then seemingly realising that he’d stormed into the middle of the crowded Blackbirds changing room, started yelling and then kissed Nick in front of everyone. He looked around at the masses of burly men and shrank a bit. 

“Erm. Hi.”

Nick rolled his eyes, putting one arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Charlie. Anyone who has a problem with him or me can fuck off, actually.”

Many of the guys introduced themselves one by one, with Charlie’s eyes never dropping below face level after he made the mistake of glancing down while shaking hands with Monty the extremely hung loose-head prop, who was completely starkers.

(“Nice… tattoo…” Charlie managed to eke out.)

Nick finally took pity.

“Want to go somewhere more private?”

Charlie just nodded, so Nick took his hand and pulled him away. His face burned at some of the wolf whistles thrown after them, even as he appreciated his teammates’ support. Nick kept dragging Charlie along until they reached Otis’s office, where Nick pulled the blinds shut.

“Charlie, I —”

He was interrupted by a slap across the cheek. He’d had worse — hell, Tara had slapped him harder that one time in uni he made an exceptionally crass joke at a party — but it still took him by surprise.

“That’s for not telling me Ben was fucking blackmailing you,” Charlie growled.

Then he jumped against Nick, throwing his arms around his neck and slamming their mouths together. His cheek still stinging, Nick stumbled backward until he landed against the desk.

“And that’s for everything else, you big beautiful man,” Charlie said, his eyes wild.

Nick’s head spun. “I — I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the blackmail,” he apologised. “Ben came to me yesterday. He had pictures of our date at the away game — of us kissing on the bridge. Told me to… to break up with you so he could try and get back with you, or he’d send them to the WKSO reporter.”

Charlie nodded as he listened. “Yesterday… this morning, they make a lot more sense now.”

“Do you hate me?”

Genuine confusion flashed over Charlie’s face. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I was going to do it. I was going to do it after the match today, but I — I couldn’t.”

Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick. 

“No, I don’t hate you,” Charlie cooed. “I am furious that Ben put you in that position. I know your career means everything to you, so I know what going out there and saying what you did might cost you. I promise I’m going to do everything I can during bidding, okay?”

Nick wiped away a tear.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

Charlie shushed him and squeezed Nick more tightly.

“Speaking of careers…” Nick fretted.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“I’m waiting for you to realise I just completely fucking got you fired,” Nick grimaced.

Charlie shook his head.

“Nick, you silly sod. Remember I said I was moving into an old storage room?”

Nick nodded. In retrospect, it was surely part of Ben’s gross plan to woo Charlie back, by treating him with the barest level of decency.

“Well, there were still a bunch of files left in there. And I got to looking through them yesterday… there’s records in there clearly proving that Ben’s been embezzling from several major client accounts.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah! Turns out Ben is as lazy about cooking the books as he is in bed,” Charlie said. “I was going to mail copies anonymously to the clients on Monday. Thankfully I have it all at my flat, of course.”

Nick was flabbergasted. All his consternation about protecting Charlie from Ben and it turned out Charlie was the hunter, not the prey. 

“You’re so fucking smart, baby,” Nick groaned before they snogged again filthily.

His hands travelled south to massage Charlie’s arse, prompting the smaller man to moan into his mouth. Then Charlie ground against him and Nick could feel his hard length press against his stomach.

“Please, Nick, I need you,” Charlie whimpered as he kissed along Nick’s jawline.

Here in Otis’s office?

Well…

He said Nick could use it.

Nick lowered Charlie to the floor and reached over to click the lock on the door. Charlie took the opportunity to strip off his shirt, making Nick gape as he stretched his arms over his head, highlighting his abdominal muscles. Charlie Spring was absolutely the hottest man on the planet and Nick Nelson needed him right away. How he’d ever thought he could give him up…

They shed the rest of their clothes and crashed together again, snogging sloppily and dry humping one another. 

Desperate for more, Nick pulled back and looked around. Not much in the way of supplies in here. But Otis did have a bottle of Aveeno hand lotion on his desk.

He crouched and set it on the floor before sitting on top of their clothes, pulling a giggling Charlie down until he lay flush atop him, the world’s best weighted blanket. Nick squirted a big dollop of lotion into his hand, mushed it around in a vain attempt to warm it up, and then reached between them.

Nick coated each of their cocks in lotion, making Charlie moan lowly, before he wrapped his hand around them both and began jacking. At first it was languid as they made out, but Charlie began rutting against Nick more urgently, so he picked up the pace. 

By the way they were both keening, Nick knew they weren’t going to win any longevity awards that day. Which was probably for the best since getting caught fucking in the captain’s office minutes after coming out to the entire world probably wasn’t the best idea.

Nick erupted first, grunting as he coated both their bellies. Charlie kept rutting against him, finding little purchase since their cocks were so slippery from the lotion. Nick ran his hand down his stomach, collecting the spend and using it as additional lube on Charlie’s cock, then formed a tight circle with his fingers and Charlie fucked into it for a minute, cursing quietly until he stuttered and began spraying Nick a second time. 

Charlie collapsed onto his side, one leg wrapped around Nick’s, the two men breathing like they’d just finished a marathon instead of a quick frotty in Otis’s office. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Nick gasped, gazing at Charlie.

“Same,” Charlie wheezed. “Love you, Nick.”

Nick wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that they were lying on the ground or that Otis’s office had those awful fluorescent lights, but the post-nut grossness set in more quickly. Charlie retrieved a box of tissues from Otis’s desk and they burned through the entire thing cleaning themselves up enough to make it to the showers. Nick silently hoped the guys were gone by now, he didn’t fancy parading Charlie past them all, reeking of sex, to shower together.

“So, after we shower… we could, like. Go out. On a date,” Nick said, trying to sound nonchalant as he put his dirty kit back on again. “In public. If you want.”

“I kind of do want that,” Charlie replied. “But maybe not tonight. I was thinking maybe we could stay… in. If you know what I mean.” For good measure, he pinched Nick’s bum though the silky uniform. Nick felt that tingling sensation in his rear end.

“I’d like it if you came in… me… my flat… come to my flat,” Nick said, stumbled over his own randiness despite having just dumped a load minutes before.

As they stepped out of the office hand in hand, Otis approached from down the hall.

“Mate, that was wild, I have never seen anything that baller in my life,” he said excitedly. “Oh, and you must be Charlie,” he added, sticking out his hand. “Chuffed to meet you, Nick’s said some very good things.”

“I’d love to get to know you and some of the other guys sometimes,” Charlie replied.

“But not tonight,” Nick added quickly. “We’re headed home to catch up with each other.”

Otis smirked. “Right. ‘Catch up.’ Don’t let me stand in your way then.” He patted Nick on the shoulder as he passed.

Nick and Charlie made it a few more steps before Nick heard Otis go to open his office door.

“Err… maybe let that air out first?” he called out sheepishly. “We may have just ‘caught up’ in there.”

Otis’s face twisted up. “Nick fucking Nelson!” he shouted, shaking his fist in the air as the two of them laughed and ran off down the corridor.

Notes:

Just one more chapter to go. 😭

You have to ask yourself… just how hung does a man have to be for SE Charlie to be stunned?

Want to know the exceptionally crass joke that made Tara slap Nick in uni? Read at your own risk:
"What's the difference between jam and peanut butter? ... I can't peanut butter my dick up your arse."

Chapter 23

Summary:

Previously on Scorched Earth: Anguished about Ben's blackmail, Nick realizes that he still has a choice — and he chooses Charlie. In a very public way. Then he celebrates with Charlie in a very private way.

This time: Nick and Charlie deal with the aftermath of Nick's coming out and try to navigate an uncertain future.

Notes:

Reminder that the "🥙" emojis below signal the sections depicting armpit kink. Reader discretion is advised.

Thank you to KareliasKiss for doing pinch-hitting beta reading on today’s chapter. She caught about 43 Americanisms so enjoy this super British last chapter.

More thanks in the end note, as well as some amazing art (but it’s semi-spoilery and honestly without context will probably just confuse you, so don’t look until you finish).

“Aaand we’re back. You’re watching BBC Breakfast with Siry Fields and Jon Kay. If you’re just joining us, we have in the studio Nick Nelson, who was already known in rugby circles when, a month ago, he came out as bisexual in a dramatic press conference mic drop that went viral.

“We’re going to talk more about that, but first, Nick is just showing us how to finish up the perfect lemon loaf. Nick?”

Nick looked down at the hot pan in front of him nervously. The studio lights were bloody blinding and hot as hell — he barely even needed the oven. So far this segment had been going well, but they’d started with his baking and were getting close to the lead-in for the interview portion, where they were going to actually ask about his sexuality and rugby and everything. 

Nick had done a couple of photoshoots for big magazine stories — how he let Charlie talk him into wearing frog shoes and a blow-up unicorn pool toy with his tits out, Nick will never know — but those had yet to publish, so this would be his first big splash back into the press since he walked into the Blackbirds’ press room.

But first, he had to finish off this lemon loaf, the one Charlie had once said would have women across the UK gushing — in more ways than one. 

“Right, so, um, you want to glaze it while it’s hot out of the oven — that’s what my mum taught me,” Nick said, remembering Charlie’s coaching to mention Sarah. “It’s super easy. You just mix the juice and zest from two lemons — remember to zest it first, then juice it — with 75 grams of caster sugar.”

As he talked, Nick combined the pre-measured ingredients in a spouted bowl, the camera zooming in on his hands. 

“And then,” he said, picking up the bowl, “just carefully pour it over the cake, nice and even. It will soak into the hot cake and taste amazing once it cools down.”

Siry leaned down and took a dramatic sniff. 

“I can’t wait to try it — and thanks to the magic of television, I don’t have to!”

She bent down and picked up a prepared loaf from its hiding spot under the counter, followed by two plates with pre-cut slices positioned perfectly on them. Siry took a bite and moaned. 

“That’s so soft and sweet, but also plenty tart, which I really appreciate,” she said after swallowing. 

“Yeah, I like the balance between sweet and tart as well,” Nick said, glancing off-camera where Charlie was standing.

“Fantastic! We’ll put that recipe on our website, and we’ll be back to talk more with Blackbirds fly-half Nick Nelson after this.”

Nick heard outro music and then the studio lights dimmed and the cameras started shifting around, resetting for coverage of the interview set adjacent to the kitchen. Nick tried to settle onto the sofa, but it was difficult with one production assistant readjusting the microphone clipped to his shirt and a makeup artist touching up his face.

They finally disappeared and Charlie stepped up and crouched down in front of him. 

Ever since coming out, Charlie had been working as an independent contractor for Nick, whose public relations needs had expanded significantly, to put it mildly. Thankfully, sales of his merch online had skyrocketed — everyone wanted a Nick Nelson fidget spinner. (Darcy was already working on rebranding them with the bi flag, and had only pouted for about five minutes when Nick shot down her idea for a line of Bi Nick Nelson condoms.) Even so, Charlie was still making a little less than before, which created a pit in Nick’s stomach, even as Charlie insisted he had some savings and would be fine.

“You okay?” Charlie asked, placing one hand on Nick’s knee. 

Nick gulped and nodded. The way he’d come out had been so sudden and unplanned, he was able to just roll into it without any anxiety. This choreographed television segment was so much more nerve-racking, even though Charlie had prepared him for the past week. They’d even role-played the interview, which, shocking no one, turned into sexy role-play instead. 

“You’re going to be amazing, baby, I believe in you,” Charlie said. The director began counting down from ten, and Charlie had to hustle out of frame. When he got past the cameras, he turned, looked right at Nick and placed one hand over his heart.

“Welcome back,” Siry said into the camera. “One month ago, Nick Nelson was a rookie fly-half for the Blackbirds, known affectionately in the sports press as ‘the rugby prince.’ But then he walked into a press conference and told the world that he’s bisexual, becoming one of the first out active players in the league.”

She turned to Nick.

“You said at the time you were being blackmailed by your own publicist. That’s an incredible story. Tell us what happened there and why you decided to come out.”

Nick squeezed his hands together tightly in his lap. He really didn’t want to have to share all this stuff, and it really wasn’t anyone’s business, but he and Charlie had discussed it at length and decided that, given how everything went down, it was necessary.

“Well, I’ve known I was bisexual for some time, but my relationships had always been with women. If you weren’t aware, even now it’s quite rare to be a queer athlete in professional sport, particularly for men, and particularly for bisexuals,” Nick started. 

Siry nodded encouragingly. 

“But then, I… met someone. A man. And I didn’t mean to, but, um, I fell in love,” Nick said. His face was burning and he hoped all that time he’d spent in the makeup chair was hiding it or he’d be taking even more shit from the guys in the changing room than he was already going to for admitting his feelings on television.

“And that man was your publicist, or rather worked for your publicist, Ben Hope,” Jon prompted.

“That’s right,” Nick replied. “The short version is, this man and Ben Hope had a history, and Ben was upset that he was now with me. So Ben tried to blackmail me into dumping my boyfriend — or else he would out me to the world.”

“How awful,” Siry sympathised. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. But that’s not how things went down, is it? We have a clip.”

Nick followed Siry’s line of sight to a monitor on the side, where the main part of his coming out speech was replayed — possibly for the millionth time in the past month, Nick thought.

“Absolutely stunning,” Siry said. “Nick, why did you decide to do something so dramatic?”

Nick cleared his throat.

“To tell you the truth, I almost didn’t,” he explained. “I was so worried about hurting my career. I wasn’t sure — I’m still not sure — I’m worth anything without rugby. But I realised that for sure I wouldn’t be worth anything if I lost the person I love. And as for the rest, well… yeah, I admit maybe I got a little carried away. But then, aren’t bisexuals allowed some dramatic licence?”

Charlie had workshopped that line and it got a great laugh out of Siry.

“Well, it has earned you a royal promotion,” Jon said, picking up several newspapers from shortly after Nick came out. “You were once the rugby prince, and now you’ve been deemed the rugby king.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yeah. Though I’d prefer to get recognition for what I can do on the field, not for my private life.”

“And how do you feel about everything now, a month on?” Siry asked.

Nick looked down at his hands.

“In some ways, I’m still angry. I never should have been put in the position of being forced to come out. It should be every person’s right to choose when and how to do that, if they choose to at all. I had that taken away from me, and I can never get it back,” Nick said, sighing. “On the other hand, it’s been a relief. I can be myself now all the time. I can be with, be openly with, the person I love. So that’s been amazing.”

Siry smiled sweetly. “So then is everything okay with your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah.” Nick glanced off camera at Charlie, though he could only see his silhouette through the blinding lights. “Yeah, it is.”

“And what about professionally? The league is in the midst of bidding season now.”

Nick squirmed a bit. He was somewhat amazed that there was still interest in him, even if a few teams probably had chosen not to pursue him. But he also didn’t want to tip Tara’s hand.

“We’re fielding a number of offers, actually,” Nick replied. “I’m really humbled by some of the teams that have expressed interest, but I don’t have any specific news to share on that yet.”

“Well, Nick, thank you for — hold on, sorry.”

Siry held up one hand to her ear, listening to something.

“Right, I’m told we actually have breaking news related to Ben Hope, for this we go to our legal correspondent Teach Beezley — Teach, what do you have for us?”

Nick looked over at the display monitor, which showed a reporter sitting behind a BBC news desk, a small stack of papers spread out in front of them.

“Yes, Siry, just in the last hour, three separate lawsuits have been filed against publicist Ben Hope by some of his former clients.” As they spoke, a few photographs of Ben at various social functions floated across the screen. “The suits allege that Mr. Hope embezzled funds from their accounts to pay for luxury vehicles, tailored clothes and other extravagant items. Mr. Hope’s solicitors denied the allegations and confirmed Mr. Hope’s intention to vigorously defend himself against these, quote, ‘scurrilous accusations.’ Siry, back to you.”

Siry looked back at Nick.

“All right, more trouble for publicist Ben Hope. Nick, any thoughts on this breaking news?”

“Erm. It’s the first I’m hearing about these lawsuits, Siry, so I’ll withhold comment.”

“Fair enough,” Siry replied. “Nick Nelson of the Blackbirds, thank you for your time today, and thank you for that amazing lemon loaf. I think I’m actually going to sneak another slice before the next segment.” She turned to the camera. “We’ll be back with literary critic Isaac Henderson right after we hear from Carol with the weather.”

The lights switched off and Nick relaxed slightly. Siry and Jon shook his hand and thanked him for coming on the show before booking it to another set across the soundstage where the next guest was waiting. 

Nick stood and walked over to where Charlie was waiting, grabbing him in a huge hug that lifted his feet clear off the ground. 

“You were amazing, baby,” Charlie praised after Nick finally returned him to terra firma. “Fucking perfect.”

Nick glanced around, ensuring no one was close enough to hear them whisper.

“Took those clients long enough to sue Ben!” he said. “I was starting to think they weren’t going to do anything about it.” 

Charlie put his finger to his mouth. Not here. Right.

“Come on, then,” he said. “We’ve got that meeting with Pride Sports UK in a bit, then lunch with your MP.”

“And we’re still on to meet up with your brother?” Nick asked.

They were soft-launching the Spring family rollout with a stealth visit to Olly at his rugby team’s afternoon practice, where Nick was going to run a skills drill and hopefully earn Olly enough cool points to coast him through the rest of his school days. Olly had been excitedly texting Charlie nonstop since he’d found out he was with the rugby king. 

It was going to take longer to finesse Charlie’s parents to the point where they could meet Nick amicably, but at least he was making progress on the sibling front. Nick had already met Tori and Michael over Zoom a few times and now was going to give Olly serious cred.

“Yes, he’s only messaged me about 40 times today,” Charlie said, taking Nick’s hand and pulling him away. “And if we’re late he honestly might just explode.”

 

***

 

The London swing after his BBC appearance went well — nice meetings with charities and government, and Olly had very nearly passed away when a genuine rugby star showed up at his school and impressed his whole team, including taking Olly and a few of his friends out for dinner.

But Nick wasn’t thinking about that right now. Instead, he was on all fours in Charlie’s bed, focusing very hard on relaxing his second ring. 

“Fuck, Nick, you’re taking it so well, baby,” Charlie cooed, his hands running up and down Nick’s back as Nick tried to replicate that time at the hotel. It was quite tricky, and they’d tried twice since then without luck, but Nick was actually feeling relaxed after getting through the London gauntlet. So when he casually suggested via a whisper into Charlie’s ear on the train that they try again, Charlie had actually bitten his own hand to stop himself from moaning in earshot of other travellers.

Unfortunately, Nick had eaten Chipotle before they caught the train, so they settled for some mutual handjobs that night. The next day, Nick went completely without eating. By lunchtime, his stomach was yowling, but that wasn’t the body part Nick most wanted filled.

So here he was, getting railed doggy style in Charlie’s bed, the poor headboard once again rhythmically knocking against the wall, paint chips falling to the ground. 

Nick was determined to repeat the hotel performance, which had actually shifted him to a higher plane of being for a few moments, it was so fucking good. But Charlie had been bumping against his inner wall for a while now without results, and Nick was starting to get frustrated with his body.

Come on, you did this before, he thought. But Nick had to acknowledge, repeating the same tactic as before wasn’t working this time. He needed to relax, be calm. So he clenched his eyes shut and thought of the most peaceful thing he could: He and Charlie, sitting side by side in the backyard of their country home, watching squirrels and birds flit about the forest. They were sipping some wine, talking lightly and laughing, gently touching one another on the arm. In his mind’s eye, Nick saw a glint on each of their hands. He tried to visualise it more closely. Was that…

Then it happened. He opened up, finally, and Charlie pistoned flush against him, skin against skin. It was as overwhelming as Nick remembered from the first time, nerve endings he didn’t even know existed firing pleasure signals to his brain, every bit of his body lighting up like a Christmas tree. He felt as if he were floating away into the clouds, propelled by Charlie’s cock, and the sunlight was starting envelope him completely when —

The door flew open to reveal Tao.

“Are you two okay, I — oh my fucking god!”

Charlie pulled out of Nick suddenly, and the rapid change made him realise he’d been grunting at quite a high volume. The three men suddenly started screaming at each other as Charlie scrambled to pull his duvet in front of them while Nick focused on curling his body up. Which didn’t matter much since Tao had scrunched his eyelids shut instantly and thrown one hand up for good measure.

“Tao, fucking knock—”

“Look away—”

“—thought you were finally killing each other—”

“Everything’s fine, it’s just—”

“—insane sex and—”

“Frankly, it’s obnoxiously loud—”

“TAO GET OUT!” Charlie finally bellowed, making his lanky roommate huff and slam the door behind him.

Nick heard Charlie fall back on his haunches behind him and sigh. 

“Charlie,” Nick sobbed. “Please tell me you can still finish… I was so close, fuck.” He had curled up with his face planted against Charlie’s mattress while Tao was interrupting, but now raised himself back on his arms, arching his back and presenting his arse to his boyfriend.

“Oh god, baby, it’s like a steel beam,” Charlie replied, thwacking his dick against Nick’s arse for good measure. Charlie took the opportunity to inject more lube into Nick before he slid back in, making Nick moan loudly. He didn’t even care if Tao heard, he had to express himself or he might just burn up inside.

Soon enough, Charlie was almost fully seated, and Nick once again relaxed until Charlie could push into his second ring. The breathtaking sensations rollicked Nick again as Charlie’s head thrust against his innermost sensitive spot. Nick still couldn’t believe this level of sexual satiation was even possible, but the nonsense babbling out of his mouth and his inability to focus his eyes were proof enough that it could happen. 

Very quickly, Nick tipped over the edge, shooting a massive load onto the safety towel below. It felt like an ocean wave, building and cresting and just dispersing when another swell took him by surprise. This strong an orgasm might actually be damaging his brain, Nick thought as he continued to climax. Finally, he heard Charlie bray behind him as his hips stilled against Nick’s and his length pulsed deep inside him. Another successful delivery.

Nick had just enough presence of mind to fall to the side of the pool of his cum cooling on the towel beneath them. Charlie spent a solid five minutes whispering worship against his neck and back before finally withdrawing. He arose from the bed, balled up the soiled towel and threw it into a corner before climbing back into bed and snuggling up against Nick. 

Fingers entangled between them, the couple drifted into a light nap for a while before Nick’s rumbling tummy woke them, making Charlie giggle. They cleaned up and summoned McDonald’s via delivery, which is pretty wild but hey, they were still floating among the clouds from those orgasms.

They had just finished an episode of that trashy Spanish soap on Netflix when the front door opened and Tao returned to their flat, now with Elle in tow.

“Is it safe to enter?” he called out as he walked in, one hand held over his eyes. Nick was starting to catch on to Tao’s melodramatics, and he noticed Elle rolling her eyes fondly as well.

“Yes, it’s safe to enter,” Charlie said, his voice dripping with exasperation.

The door swung shut behind them, and the three men looked at one another awkwardly, silence filling the air, as Elle waited.

“So…” Charlie finally ventured. “I’m sorry we were so… loud. I thought you were out, I’d never be that inconsiderate otherwise.” Nick flushed a dark red, mortified that they were having this conversation because he uncontrollably ululated like an opera singer when taking Charlie to the hilt. Though he was grateful that Charlie had to take the lead since it was his roommate. 

“And I’m sorry I barged in,” Tao replied, folding his arms behind his back. “It’s just that, given your history, it felt like there was a 50-50 chance one of you was killing the other one.”

Charlie and Nick couldn’t help but laugh at that. Tao was correct. This was not your normal love story.

“Honestly, you got the worst end of this,” Charlie told Tao. “There are some things you just shouldn’t see your friend doing, and one of them is penetrating the rectosigmoid junction of his jock boyfriend’s arse.”

Nick’s jaw dropped open when Charlie admitted that, and it dropped even further at what Tao said.

“Wait, you really did that? All the way in?”

Charlie seemed to realise he had perhaps overshared. He glanced at Nick, who stared at him in shock, and then sheepishly nodded yes to Tao.

“Ha ha, yes!” Elle yelped. “You owe me a twenty,” she said to Tao, who was currently digging out his wallet. 

“What? Why?” Charlie asked.

“Picked the wrong side in the ‘can Nick take the whole thing’ disagreement,” Tao said, shrugging.

Nick squawked. “What? You bet on my dick-taking abilities?” 

Elle wobbled her head in affirmation as Nick had another thought. 

“Wait… the whole thing? So you… know about Charlie?”

Charlie grimaced. “Forgot my towel once after a shower. I thought I could get away with it but…”

Tao crossed his arms. “Worse yet, Charlie and I were supposed to have bangers and mash for dinner that night. Needless to say I went to bed hungry.”

Nick and Elle laughed raucously as Charlie blushed and Tao scowled, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“Things were pretty awkward between us for a few days,” Charlie said.

Elle crossed her arms smugly. “Yes, but I fixed it.”

“What did you do?”

Charlie grinned, Tao groaned and Elle preened.

“I made Tao show Charlie his dick.”

Nick made a choking sound and his eyes involuntarily zipped over to Tao’s trouser-fronts.

“Don’t worry, it was before we even met,” Charlie reassured him.

“I… no, it’s not that,” Nick stumbled. “I just… I…” Nick actually didn’t know what he was trying to say. Brain broke.

“Oh, here we go again,” Elle sighed. “What is it with you guys and dicks? Nick, do you want to see it?”

Nick’s eyes widened in shock. 

“It’s your choice, but like… it’s a nice dick,” Elle said.

“Aww, babe!” Tao cooed.

Charlie leaned in to whisper into Nick’s ear. “She’s right. I say go for it. Even stevens.”

Nick had to admit, he was kind of curious. Tao was a good-looking guy. Not that he had any eyes for him whatsoever but… well, sometimes you wonder about your friends.

He nodded, and Charlie and Elle clapped as Tao unzipped and pulled out his cock. It was only out for a couple of seconds, but that was more than enough time for an image to burn into Nick’s retinas. Tao was nicely proportioned, solidly built, respectable length and with a gentle curve apparent even soft. Nick vaguely remembered a show he used to watch in uni like this, and then Tao Jr. was tucked back away.

Nick made a restrained impressed expression. Seeing his friends’ dicks — at least, outside the stadium shower setting… that was a new experience. It was kind of fun, actually. Being openly queer continued to bring new surprises.

“So, um, on another topic,” Tao ventured as he zipped up. “Elle and I have been talking about moving in together at her place. It’s a much better view and the rent’s actually lower, somehow,” he explained. 

He looked reluctant. “So… that would leave you here, Charlie. I’m so sorry.”

Charlie hopped up and pulled Tao and Elle into an embrace.

“Don’t be sorry, Tao, I’m so happy for you both! You should totally move in together if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks,” Tao replied. “And I promise I was leaning that way even before you two entered the ‘scream as loud as possible’ stage of sex. Though that did make the decision easier.”

Charlie playfully pushed Tao, who laughed as he walked into his room, pulling Elle behind him. Charlie spun around and returned to sit next to Nick, throwing his legs over his boyfriend’s lap.

“Guess I need to start looking for a roommate,” Charlie murmured. “Preferably a deaf one.”

Nick probably should have chuckled at Charlie’s little joke, but he was too lost in thought to respond.

He didn’t know where he was about to end up, but he knew he wanted Charlie to be there with him. He thought back to that home in the woods from his vision… that idyllic place wouldn’t be his next house, but it could be theirs one day. And Nick was already starting to think about a ‘one day’ with Charlie.

“Or…” Nick’s heart raced as he spoke. “Or maybe you could… live with me?”

Charlie stilled his fidgeting and looked at Nick, who didn’t dare look up for a few moments. When he did, Charlie looked unsure.

“Nick, if you’re just offering because Tao…”

“It’s not that,” Nick insisted. “I’ve sort of been avoiding this for a while now but, well, I could end up anywhere after bids are in. And I can’t… I can’t be somewhere without you.”

He was tearing up now and a lump lodged in his throat. They’d rather deftly avoided all the awkward questions about their future, with so much uncertainty about their careers. Now, telling Charlie about how fucking needy he had become was terrifying. 

“Fuck, that’s really selfish to say, I’m sorry, Char—”

“Nick, Nick, it’s not selfish to say you want to be with the person you love,” Charlie sympathised, coolly gripping Nick’s arm. “I like this place, but if I’m honest, the only thing holding me here is you, Nick. I only ever came to this city for that stupid job with Ben, and now that’s over… there’s nothing truly tying me down. I can choose what I want. And I… I want to choose you.”

Nick sniffed. “But what if we end up somewhere awful? Like Sheffield?”

“There are worse places than Sheffield.”

“Like Slough?”

Charlie snorted at that.  “Slough wouldn’t be so bad, if you were there.”

 

***

 

They had some more difficult, adult discussions about their future that night before falling into a cosy slumber, Nick’s ear pressed against Charlie’s chest, lulled to sleep by the steady drum of his heartbeat. 

In the morning, they had some lazy time in bed, sipping tea and just happily being together, before Nick dressed and returned to his flat. 

It was mid-morning by then, but the place was completely silent when he walked in. Nick was standing in front of his bedroom door, texting Charlie a meme Christian had just shared in the team chat, when Sai’s door opened. But it wasn’t Sai that emerged. Or Imogen.

It was Otis.

He immediately locked eyes with Nick, who stood more frozen than an ice sculpture.

A solid ten seconds passed with the two men staying completely still before Nick’s lips began cracking into a smile. It started slowly but soon grew ear to ear. 

Otis started babbling. “Just — just — It’s not… quiet, you,” he said, bending over to shove his shoes on before heading for the door.

“Oh, you’re in their web now, Otis,” Nick called after him, giggling. “There’s no escape.”

“Not a word!” Otis said one last time, his finger raised in the air like a warning — which didn’t threaten Nick in any way — and then he was gone.

Nick quickly deleted the meme he’d been preparing to send Charlie and was typing out the hot gossip of what he’d just witnessed when Sai’s door opened again and he and Imogen emerged. Nick stuck his phone in his pocket and began clapping enthusiastically, even wolf-whistling when Imogen literally took a bow.

“Oh, she is going to be a handful today,” Sai groaned, his face flushed with embarrassment. 

“Come on, Nicky,” Imogen said, heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea, then I’ll spill the tea.”

Nick hummed happily and stepped forward until Sai pressed one hand against his chest, stopping him.

“Imogen, no — promise me you won’t tell Nick about it,” he said to his girlfriend. “He doesn’t need to know everything.”

Nick made a pouting face as Imogen stamped her foot on the linoleum. 

“Ah ah,” Sai chided. “Promise you won’t tell Nick.”

Imogen rolled her eyes but nodded.

“Good.” 

As soon as Sai’s back was turned, Nick held up his phone with the lock screen on — a picture of Charlie, of course. Imogen flashed him two thumbs up. Nick would have all the dirty details by nightfall.

 

***

 

The Blackbirds ended the season better than they had the prior year, but not well enough to advance into the playoffs. Nick was sad he wouldn’t get to experience that, but he did lead them to victory in their final game of the season, personally scoring no fewer than three tries. 

A year ago, Nick would have been furious at that outcome, both for himself and for the team as a whole. But after reflection, Nick focused instead on the positives: his own skills, the fact that he improved his individual performance and the Blackbirds’, and his continued good health in a sport rife with injury.

So he was feeling good going into the team’s year-end gala, to which he of course was bringing Charlie as his date. He felt some anxiety about it, but most of the guys had been welcoming and the rest had stayed silent. And he’d just avoid that shithead Harry Greene, if he ever bothered showing up at all.

Nick and Sai sat on the sofa in their tuxedos, watching some old GBBO, waiting. Imogen, incredibly, was ready, but had been called into Nick’s bathroom 15 minutes ago to deal with a curl emergency of some sort. Nick had seen Charlie’s hair and thought it was perfect, but he wasn’t going to argue.

Finally, Imogen stepped out of Nick’s bedroom.

“Gentlemen, may I present the new, not improved but different, Charlie Spring,” she said, pressing something on her phone. 

Nick started hearing music. It took a few beats for him to recognize the song — “ Kiss Me ” by Sixpence None the Richer — and then another few seconds for him to pair it with the strange thing Imogen had said. It was the makeover reveal scene from She’s All That.

Charlie emerged. He was wearing a white tuxedo with a black tie that offset Nick’s outfit perfectly. Nick wasn’t sure how, but his hair did somehow seem curlier, not that he didn’t like it how it was before.

“What’s with the Laney Boggs rollout?” he asked, stepping into Charlie’s personal space. “You were already incredibly beautiful.”

“Well,” Charlie said, swallowing and looking up at Nick. “You’re just such a sucker for a rom-com.”

Nick grinned at Charlie’s cheekiness (even if he was right). The two men leaned imperceptibly toward one another, their faces getting closer, until Nick suddenly glanced over and saw they were being observed like gorillas in the mist. Imogen had formed two fists held up against her face, and Sai was watching with interest, his eyebrows almost up to his hairline.

Nick rolled his eyes and gave Charlie a tiny peck, making Imogen and Sai tsk.

“Come on, you doughnuts, our car’s been waiting,” Nick said as everyone gathered their things. Sai and Imogen led the way, but before Charlie could follow through their flat’s front door, Nick grabbed him and closed it, sticking one heel against the corner so it wouldn’t re-open easily.

“Come here,” he growled, wrapping his arms around Charlie and pulling him flush against him. Nick captured his lips in an embrace, mashing their faces and sharing heat between them, until he needed to breathe again and pulled back. “That was the kiss I wanted to give you back there,” he said.

“Thanks for waiting,” replied a dazed-looking Charlie, and finally they were off.

The team had rented out a restaurant for the event. There was a photographer from Getty or somewhere snapping photos of arrivals, and a fair few fans lining the pavement on either side — the location must have leaked online somehow, Nick thought. 

There was a TV camera there, too — WKSO, Nick sourly noted on the side. But it wasn’t that hag Borella Maguire standing with the microphone.

“Nick Nelson, a few questions?”

“Who are you?”

“Art Skasi, WKSO.”

“What, Borella couldn’t make it tonight?” Nick asked bitterly.

“She’s, uh, been put on leave pending a review of her work,” Art replied. “Anonymous tip, allegations of unethical reporting, I hear.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,” Nick said, turning and walking away. “Not tonight, Art, sorry.”

As they walked toward the entrance, Nick looked sideways at Charlie, who was studiously ignoring him. “Anonymous tip, eh,” he said knowingly.

“Just the anonymous tip,” Charlie whispered back.

Nick cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

They were about to step inside when Nick heard someone calling his name. He looked around until he spotted the owner of the diminutive voice.

“Robin?”

Off to the side was little Robin and his mum. Nick beckoned them over, waving them past a security person watching the line. Charlie hovered in the background.

“Robin, hi!” Nick said excitedly, holding out one fist to bump as Charlie moved to stand behind him. “How are you, mate?”

“I’m fine,” he answered very politely. It was completely adorable.

“Did you come here to see me?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, but I — I wanted to tell you something.”

Nick glanced up at Robin’s mother, who wore a smile but had her eyebrows raised in anticipation. Nick glanced at Charlie and then crouched down to be Robin’s height.

“What is it, Robin?”

“I saw you came out as bi, and I wanted to tell you that… that I’m gay,” Robin said, his voice tiny and hesitant.

Nick was somewhat taken aback. Robin must be 9 or 10 years old — he couldn’t imagine knowing himself so well at that age, let alone being comfortable enough to tell anyone else. This little kid has more confidence and bravery than I do even now.

“That’s really cool,” Nick exclaimed, fist bumping Robin. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Robin squirmed awkwardly for a second. “Erm. I got you something.”

He held out his hand. In it was an enamel pin — the Blackbirds mascot, but painted in the bi pride flag colours, pink, purple and blue.

“Oh wow!” Nick said, examining the little pin. “Did you make this?”

Robin giggled. “No, mum got it off Etsy.”

“A local artist started selling them recently,” his mum chimed in.

Nick stood and appended the pin to his lapel, adjusting it into place. “It’s perfect, Robin, I love it. Thank you.” He paused for a moment; he didn’t want Robin to walk away empty-handed after sharing so much with Nick.

“Hold on one second,” Nick said.

He recalled that last year’s gala included gift bags with some Blackbirds merch — exclusive, special edition stuff to celebrate the end of the season — for the players and guests. Thankfully, that was the case this year as well. He grabbed one of the bags and went back outside.

“Here, for my number one fan,” Nick said, handing the bag over to Robin. At a glance it looked like it included a hat, a shirt that would obviously be way too big for Robin, a water bottle, and various other branded trinkets.

“It’s not as thoughtful as this pin, but this is stuff you’ll never be able to get otherwise,” Nick said as Robin pawed through the bag and gasped.

“Robin, say thank you,” his mum chided. 

“Thank you, Nick!”

Nick squeezed the bi Blackbirds pin. “Thank you, Robin. I’ll see you next season, yeah?”

Robin nodded. They shared another fist bump and Nick waved him and his mum goodbye before turning back to Charlie, who regarded him with a mix of tenderness and lust.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

“You’re so good with kids, Nick, damn,” Charlie said, quietly enough so they wouldn’t be heard by those nearby. “It’s… ugh, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

“Wow,” Nick said, wrapping one arm around Charlie’s waist. “Between that and the French, and my tits… you’re like putty in my hands, Spring.”

Charlie bit his lip. “I like your hands, too.”

Nick shook his head. “Come on, then, I want to show off my insanely hot date.”

He pulled Charlie in, their hands clasped, greeting his teammates and other team staff and introducing Charlie to them all. 

“You remember Monty, right, Char?” Nick said when they came across the loose-head prop. Charlie’s hesitant face told another story. Nick leaned into his ear. “He was the one who was completely…” 

Charlie made a face of recognition. “Oh, right, of course! Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on…” He trailed off as he realised what he’d said, though it was far too late to take it back.

Monty smirked, shook his head playfully and stepped away as Charlie flushed a deep maroon.

Nick giggled as Charlie chugged his drink.

A while later, they were chatting with Sai, Imogen, Christian and his maybe-sorta-girlfriend Gemma when Otis came up.

“Who’s down for some hot gossip?” the captain said as he joined their little circle. “Coach Singh told me earlier today: they’ve traded Harry to the Pandas.” 

Nick, Christian and Sai reacted with some shock, while their dates looked on with a little more confusion.

“How did Mr. Greene allow that?” Nick asked. He turned to Charlie. “Harry’s dad is a minority owner in the team.”

“Was. Was a minority owner in the team,” Otis said. Ooh, the tea was scorching tonight. “Turns out the Greene family had a run-in with the tax authorities and owed the exchequer quite a bit. Had to sell his stake in the Blackbirds to try and cover it, though my understanding is it doesn’t come close.”

Nick was glad that he wasn’t in talks with the Pandas — the only place he wanted to run into Harry Greene again was on the pitch, preferably shoulder-first into Harry’s waist. 

Nick and Charlie and the rest spent the next couple of hours eating and dancing and socialising. Although game victories were a huge adrenaline rush, Nick had never felt this kind of sustained happiness before. Charlie, his friends, a team that he felt ashamed to have once considered a mere stepping stone to greatness, plus some delicious food at a nice restaurant. 

As the night wore on, Nick had stepped away to refresh his and Charlie’s drinks. He found his boyfriend having a sprightly conversation with Christian, laughing at what as surely one of Chris’s standard horrible jokes. Nick was captivated. Charlie’s smile filled his face, forming those perfect dimples. His eyes crinkled perfectly. Nick's eyes darted up to his commanding eyebrows and then his hair, those superb curls. His knees went weak momentarily, and he set one glass down on the table beside him to brace with one hand against a chair back.

Charlie noticed and excused himself from Christian before flitting over. 

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern. “Have you had too much to drink?”

Nick righted himself.

“No, it’s not that,” Nick shook his head. “It’s… you’re going to think this is sappy, because it is, but, well, I saw you laughing over there and you were so beautiful, it just… I just felt dizzy for a moment.”

“Okay, now I know you’ve had too much,” Charlie laughed, clearly flattered but also seemingly hesitant to hear Nick.

“Charlie,” Nick implored. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world. You’re going to take my breath away sometimes.”

It just about looked like he was getting through to Charlie.

“Nick…”

He stepped forward, pressing himself up against Charlie and pressing one hand against his bum, or the side of it, at least.

“How about we get out of here and I show you how beautiful you are?” he proposed, squeezing Charlie’s jiggly flesh, not caring who might notice.

“Nick…” Charlie’s voice was much more ragged this time.

“Oh, did I mention… I forgot to wear something tonight?” Nick whispered.

Charlie’s eyes glanced down. “Un — underwear?”

Nick shook his head and grinned.

“Oh. Oh! Really?”

“They’re all yours, piggy,” Nick said, pulling one of Charlie’s hands into his armpit.

Charlie bit his lip. “Fuck. Yes, let’s go, now.”

“I should just tell Sai we’re leaving—”

“Oh, he left already,” Charlie said.

“Nuts,” Nick said, “I was kind of hoping we’d have the place to ourselves tonight.”

“Oh, we will,” Charlie said. “Remember when I went to the loo earlier? I saw him and Imogen leaving. I went to catch up but they weren’t waiting for a taxi out front. They were walking into the hotel across the street.”

Nick scrunched up his face. “Why would they do that when they have two bedrooms to pick from?”

Charlie smirked. “Because they weren’t alone. Notice anyone else missing?”

A second passed before Nick realised what Charlie was implying and his jaw dropped. A quick glance around the room told him that Otis was indeed missing in action. Well, actually, he probably was getting a lot of action right about now.

“Come on, then,” Nick said, taking Charlie’s hand in his. “Let’s go home.”

 

***

 

Charlie paced back and forth through the living room as Sai and Imogen sat fidgeting on the sofa. Nick had been in a meeting with Tara for hours in order to choose which team he would sign with and to negotiate any final details. 

It turned out his fears about losing prospects were largely overblown. Although a couple of teams that had been sniffing around disappeared — as if Nick would have gone to the Pandas, even before Harry had been traded to them — those teams that had been properly courting him kept it up. The Blue Hens, the Orcas, the Stoats, plus the Herons and the Scorpions.

Nick had also fielded inquiries from the Blackbirds about sticking around. Charlie was rather surprised that Nick was even considering them. The Blackbirds were good, but they weren't among the top tier of the league. In fact, Nick and Charlie had met precisely because Nick was so intent on getting out of this town for a marquee team like the Orcas or the Scorpions. His interest in offers from the Blackbirds confused Charlie, though he explained it was a courtesy to consider their proposals.

The three of them turned toward the door when they heard a key in the lock. Nick walked in carrying a Tesco bag and struggling to hide the smile on his face.

“So?” Charlie yelped, eschewing any form of greeting. He was far too pent up even for a welcoming hug or kiss. Nick’s future — their future — was on the line here.

“Sorry, I’m late, but I stopped off for a little celebratory drink,” Nick said, pulling an already chilled bottle from the bag.

“Holy shit, Nicky, is that Veuve Clicquot?” Imogen gasped.

“It is!”

“But you always buy Tesco Finest champagne… when you buy it at all,” Sai said.

“Well, sir,” Nick smirked. “I can afford this now.”

“Does that mean—”

“So you—”

“Are you saying—”

Charlie, Sai and Imogen all talked over one another in their excitement before clamming up and staring at Nick expectantly. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at the new starting fly-half for… the Blackbirds!” He threw his arms open in excitement as he made his big pronouncement.

The three of them squealed together before all of them stopped suddenly in confusion.

“But you’re the old starting fly-half for the Blackbirds,” Imogen said.

“Yeah,” Nick shrugged. “I signed on full-time.”

Charlie and Sai exchanged glances.

“You did?” Sai asked.

“Yes!” Nick replied. “And I’m actually rather chuffed about it, so excuse me while I open this bottle and maybe one of you could toast me?”

He picked the bottle up off the dining table and stepped past them into the kitchen. Charlie followed him in while Sai and Imogen went around the other side of the bar to see. 

“Nick, we’re happy for you,” Charlie said. “We just — we’re kind of surprised, is all. Did they somehow match the Blue Hens’ offer?”

Nick shook his head as he pierced and removed the foil and started untwisting the wire cage. 

“No, they didn’t. I knew they couldn’t.” 

He turned and got down four wine glasses. Nick didn’t own actual champagne flutes (and he hated coupes, so unwieldy). He made a mental note to correct that with his next fat paycheck.

“So why did you choose the Blackbirds, then?” Sai asked. “I thought you were going to go with the highest bidder.”

Nick paused and looked up at his friends. 

“They didn’t match my top offers, true, but the Blackbirds still offered me plenty of money,” he said, handing glasses to each of them. “Plus, I like the Blackbirds. I like this city. I like the team. I have friends here, Otis and Christian and… others.”

“Nick, you didn’t stay for me, did you?” Charlie asked warily. “I told you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Imogen couldn’t help letting a saccharine sigh escape her lips at that, making Nick roll his eyes affectionately. 

“I know, love,” Nick told Charlie. “I had other reasons for wanting to stay here. I hope… is that okay? Did you want to leave?”

Charlie shook his head. “Now that Ben’s gone, this could be a very nice place to live.”

Nick squeezed Charlie’s hand and then twisted the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop. He filled each of their glasses and then he and Charlie walked back out to the living to rejoin Sai and Imogen properly. 

“So,” Nick said, standing. He really was going to make them toast him. 

“Oh!” Sai yelped. “Yes. Right. To Nick… may he be better than the Blackbirds’ last fly-half.”

Imogen and Charlie snorted, but they all clinked their glasses and drank.

“Damn, that really is better than Tesco Finest, isn’t it?” Nick asked after downing half his drink. 

He immediately held out the bottle and began refilling everyone’s glasses. 

“What are you doing?” Sai asked. 

“Well, we have something else to toast,” Nick said as he topped up Imogen and Charlie. “Your latest offer, Sai.”

Sai scrunched up his face in confusion. “My agent hasn’t texted about any new offers.”

“That’s because Tara’s calling her about it right now,” Nick said. “But I have all the details here.”

He withdrew a white envelope from his pocket; it was clearly marked “Sai Verma” on the front. Sai tentatively grabbed it and looked at it for a moment before returning his baffled visage back to Nick.

“What’s going on, Nick?”

“Well, the Blackbirds wanted me. They really wanted me. But they couldn’t come close to matching the Orcas or the Blue Hens. So I asked for something else I wanted. You.”

Sai shook his head. “Me?”

“I got them to sweeten your deal a little, is all. You don’t have to accept it, of course. I know you have solid offers from other teams. But I just… I love you, Sai. And I don’t want our time together to end, not yet. I’d really like it if we could remain teammates. So, I’m being selfish and seeing if I can tempt you to stay as well.”

Sai was obviously surprised, and Imogen and Charlie were both watching with a non-zero amount of moisture in their eyes. 

“Nick, I…”

“Aren’t you at least going to open it?” Nick asked. “Find out what they’re offering?”

“Oh. Right.”

Sai set down his glass and tore open the envelope, pulling out the piece of paper inside. He looked at it for a moment before his eyes bugged out.

“‘Sweeten the deal’? Nick, holy fuck, this is like… 25 percent more than my best offer!”

“Again — I don’t want to pressure you,” Nick said, holding out one hand. “I just… wanted to incentivize you to stay here now that I am.” 

Nick didn’t mention that the extra money was carved out of his own offer. Nick’s offer was significantly higher than Sai’s, though both men would be more than comfortable. So the extra amount added to Sai’s offer was proportionally a relatively small part of Nick’s deal. And if it convinced Sai to stay with the Blackbirds, Nick considered it a steal.

Sai dropped the paper onto the coffee table. “You fucking —” he yelped as he flung himself at Nick, wrapping his arms and around and him and planting a fat kiss right on Nick’s lips. Charlie’s jaw dropped, though he had a huge smile plastered across his face, while Imogen gasped and then giggled.

“Fuck, sorry, fuck,” Sai said, backing away and smoothing his shirt and trousers. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean — I got carried away—”

Nick glanced at Charlie, noticed his lack of bother, and then turned back to Sai. “It’s fine, really, I get it,” Nick laughed. “Guess you’re just working your way through the team one by one.”

Sai blushed madly and looked away. Imogen blushed as well but had the decency to close her eyes and smile as she clearly relived a very happy memory.

“Anyway,” Nick said, raising his glass. Everyone scrambled to find and raise their own. “To Sai’s sweet new offer.” 

Four glasses clinked again and they drank the effervescent bubbles.

“If I did accept… would you… would you maybe like to keep living together, for a little while?” Sai ventured. “I like our little family unit here. If I’m going to stay, it would be nice to keep that up. Oh — unless you two want more privacy, obviously.”

Nick looked over at Charlie. They obviously hadn’t discussed it yet, but Charlie made a face that he was amenable, and took Nick’s hand and squeezed it.

“I think we could do that,” Charlie said. “Er — but now that you two are apparently going to be rolling in it, could we perhaps find a slightly bigger place? Maybe one with a garden, and also more distance between the bedrooms? Or at least more soundproofing?”

Nick thought about it and nodded, as did Sai.

“Makes sense,” Sai said. “A bigger place if it’s going to be full-time for all four of us.”

“Or five of us,” Nick mumbled, prompting Charlie to elbow him hard in the ribs. Maybe Sai and Imogen were just having some fun. Maybe they were on a poly journey of exploration. Either way, Nick wanted front row seats and some popcorn.

“Well… anyway…” Imogen said, flipping her hair back and downing her drink.

“Sorry again for getting carried away there,” Sai said, looking at both Nick and Charlie.

Charlie laughed. “Don’t worry about it. If Nick had gotten me a fat job offer I’d have jumped him, too.”

Nick coughed.

“Erm. About that.”

Everyone froze and stared at him.

“What?” Charlie asked plainly.

Nick just slid his hand down into his pocket and pulled out a second envelope with Charlie’s name on it.

“I sort of had some more juice? So…”

Charlie ripped open the envelope, whipped out the paper inside and read aloud.

“Mr. Spring, we are pleased to offer you a position as associate public relations specialist in the Blackbirds’ front office… at a salary of… holy fucking shit.”

He looked up at Nick, who had a hesitant smile plastered across his face.

“Holy fucking shit,” Charlie repeated.

“Good holy fucking shit?” Nick asked through bared teeth. “Or bad holy fucking shit?”

Charlie’s eyes roved slowly from the letter in his hands — or rather the increasingly crumpled piece of paper in his fists — and met Nick’s. It was that steely gaze that Nick hadn’t seen in quite a while. Not since…

“What the actual fuck?” Charlie yelped.

Nick’s heart skipped a beat as a lump formed in his throat. This was not the reaction he’d been hoping for exactly. When he was at the table and realised just how much leverage he had with the Blackbirds, Nick decided to use it to his advantage. What good otherwise was it being the “rugby king” if he couldn’t use it to benefit those he loves?

But it seemed Charlie saw it differently.

“This is so fucking patronizing!” he shouted, throwing the crumpled letter down on the ground. “Like I need my fucking boyfried to get me a bloody job? Fucking humiliating, Nick.”

Sai and Imogen traded uncomfortable glances and quickly began moving toward the front door.

“Come on, Immy, let’s go for a stroll,” Sai said, pulling her by the hand out of the flat. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Nick turned back to Charlie. “I was just trying to do something nice, Charlie.”

“Flowers? Dinner? Letting me lick your pits for an hour? Any of those options occur to you? Or no — it’s all about throwing around your power to show off.”

Nick stepped into Charlie’s personal space.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he growled. “You can just say no and find your own damn job!”

“Well maybe I’ll do that, you douchenozzle!”

“Dickhead!”

“Fuckwit!”

“Twatwaffle!”

Nick felt his face radiating heat as he bore deep into Charlie’s icy blue eyes. He hadn’t been this angry, purely indignant, since… since back when Charlie was his number one enemy. He remembered how they had tormented one another, maligned one another. 

Fucked one another.

Nick’s cock was throbbing.

“Are you as fucking turned on as I am right now?”

Charlie answered by jumping up against Nick, wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck and snogging him aggressively. The force and sudden shift in his centre of gravity made Nick stumble backward slightly, but Charlie remained firmly latched onto him. 

As they kissed, Nick’s hands roved around Charlie’s bum, kneading it in his meaty paws. Charlie moaned against Nick, moving from his mouth to nip at his jaw before latching onto his neck and sucking hard. 

“You’re going to leave a mark,” Nick gasped as Charlie gummed at his skin.

“So what?” Charlie shot back. “Everyone on the fucking planet already knows you’re mine, I might as well claim my territory.”

“So now I’m your territory?”

Charlie reared back and raised one eyebrow. “You really want to get into that right after you treated me like a child, getting me a job so I’ll owe you for life?”

“God, I try and do one nice thing —”

“Shut up!” Charlie yelped. He wriggled out of Nick’s arms until he was back on his own feet. “If you want to give me a job so badly, how about a rim job instead?”

Charlie turned and marched into Nick’s bedroom. Nick stood dumbfounded for a few seconds before enough blood circulated from his massive erection back up to his brain and he was able to kick into gear and follow his boyfriend. 

By the time he was inside and closing the door behind him, Charlie had already shucked his pants and was pulling his shirt over his head. Even though Nick was kind of ticked at Charlie for being so ungrateful about the job offer, he was still forced to admit that he was insanely hot. The way his body stretched as he lifted his arms over his head to pull off his shirt; long limbs, lithe muscles, the perfect amount of hair dusted all over… Nick was leaking so much.

“Clothes off, lie on the bed,” Charlie ordered. He was in full bossy mode, but that only made it more fun. Nick complied, eagerly ripping his clothing off and hopping onto the mattress. Charlie got on his knees next to him.

“I want to ride your face for a while. You think you can do that?”

The little spurt of precum that emerged from Nick’s cock and oozed down his shaft was an indicator that he could indeed do that, but he nodded just to be clear. Charlie returned his nod and then swung one leg over Nick’s body, shuffling until he could lower his arse onto Nick’s greedy tongue. 

Nick’s nose and mouth pressed through Charlie’s cleft until his tongue darted out and licked a stripe along his rim. Charlie shivered above him and his hole especially quivered against Nick’s tongue. This was going to be a nice little snack. Nick could feel Charlie’s heavy sack and swollen length resting along his throat and chest as he lapped at Charlie’s hole, making happy grunts and tiny moans.

Charlie was tense at first, his powerful legs at the ready, but soon he melted onto Nick’s face as he plied his sensitive ring over and over. Nick enjoyed the feeling of Charlie’s weight pushing him down. It was just enough to titillate him without being so much as to threaten to cut off his air supply or crush him. 

Nick licked at Charlie’s hole as Charlie reached down to tweak his nipples. His little grunts turned into outright squeals of pleasure as Charlie probed his areolas, massaging and pinching until his nipples formed stiff peaks that Charlie could flick.

Eventually, it wasn’t enough for Charlie.

“Stick your tongue inside me, fuck,” he moaned from above. 

Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He circled Charlie’s rim a little more and then began pressing forward, huffing when he felt Charlie’s hole open welcomingly. If Charlie’s crack was warm, his insides were searing. Nick could feel his boyfriend pulsing around his tongue as it probed Charlie’s depths.

He must have been doing a good job, because as he worked Charlie bent over and took the head of Nick’s cock on his lips, gently sucking the coronal ridges and licking along his slit, which was oozing copious amounts of precum. Without warning, Charlie opened his throat and slid down Nick to the hilt, taking him to the root in just a couple of seconds. Overwhelmed by the wet heat fully enveloping his dick, Nick moaned loudly, the sound absorbing right into Charlie’s arse. 

“Enough playing around,” Charlie said after pulling off Nick with a sloppy squelch. 

He clambered off Nick and opened the bedside table to pull out the bottle of lube. “Prep me fast,” he said, throwing the bottle at Nick. It bounced off his chest and flopped down onto the mattress beside him as Charlie moved onto all fours and flashed him an impatient look.

“Pushy…” Nick teased as he warmed some lube between his fingers.

“Clearly you need firm direction,” Charlie shot back. Nick thought he heard a whimper when his finger began circling Charlie’s hole, warm and wet already from being eaten out, but he wasn’t sure. It wouldn’t shock him if Charlie was holding back on the noises just to spite him. Too bad for Charlie, Nick could read his body like a book by now.

He could tell that Charlie was granting him entrance when he pushed his first slicked finger inside, gliding past his rim with ease — because Charlie was relaxing himself. It wasn’t long before Nick added a second finger, scissoring Charlie and enjoying watching him tremble on his perfect, long arms. The third finger, that’s when Charlie couldn’t stop a long, low “ffffff” sound from emerging from his lips, and Nick let that play on repeat in his head until he managed to jab Charlie just right and force a wet gasp from his mouth. 

As he fingered Charlie, Nick leaned down and took his balls, hanging heavy in their sack, into his mouth, rolling them around on his tongue. A string of curse words erupted from Charlie as his cock leaked a long strand of precum that stretched all the way down to the bedsheets. Fuck, they’d forgotten a towel; they’d probably have to put on fresh sheets later. Nick was annoyed, but not enough to stop.

He kept stretching Charlie and mouthing his balls for a few more minutes until Charlie grunted and pulled away. His heavy bollocks fell out of Nick’s mouth as the deft fingers dropped out of Charlie’s bum.

Charlie flopped over onto his back and folded himself in half, pulling his knees up to his chest and exposing his trembling hole.

“Get over here and fuck me until I forgive you for being so infantilizing,” Charlie ordered.

“You’re awfully full of yourself,” Nick shot back. “When you should be full of me.”

Charlie shrugged and lowered his legs. “I mean, if you don’t want this…”

“No!” Nick yelped. “I want this, I want this so bad.”

Charlie grinned evilly. “Good. Then fuck me until I forgive you. You’ll know when I have because I’ll allow you to cum.”

“You’ll allow me?” Nick spluttered incredulously, intrigued by the combination of playfulness and command in Charlie’s voice. Sometimes during sex, Charlie exuded a kind of dom energy, and Nick had found (though not yet fully admitted to himself) that he rather liked leaning into his submissive role in that dynamic. 

“I swear to god, Nick, if you cum before I forgive you and say you can, I will walk out of here.”

Nick rolled his eyes, a demonstration that while he would go along with Charlie’s demands, he wasn’t simply being obedient. Charlie talked a big game, but when Nick was done with him, he wouldn’t be walking anywhere for a while. “Fine.”

He pushed more lube into Charlie — cold, it’s what the bastard deserved, and the glare he shot Nick made him chuckle with schadenfreude. Then Nick slathered a fresh coat on his cock, lined up and pushed in. It was good, great… beyond amazing, actually. Fuck, he always forgot until he was in the moment just how unbelievable it felt to fuck Charlie. His cock breached deeper and deeper, making Charlie yip a little and clench his eyes in pleasure. 

Soon, Nick’s hips were flush against Charlie’s arse, both men’s breathing ragged as they adjusted. Nick didn’t bother waiting long — he knew if he did, Charlie would get bossy, and he didn’t want to let him have the satisfaction. So he thrust tentatively, ripping a sinful moan from Charlie, and then began fucking Charlie longer and harder.

Charlie sighed happily as Nick fucked into him. 

“This is nice, Nick. But is ‘nice’ really the best you can do? Where’s the fiery Nick?” Charlie goaded. “I want him to fuck me.”

Nick thought back to the first time he fucked Charlie, in his apartment, the two of them shouting at one another until suddenly there was a blur of fucking and sucking and gasping and screaming. If that’s the kind of sex Charlie wanted, Nick was more than happy to oblige.

“You asked for it,” he murmured into Charlie’s ear before he pushed back on his arms and truly began pistoning into Charlie. His cock slid in and out of Charlie’s hole fast and loud, the thundering sound of flesh against flesh echoing throughout the room. Charlie writhed beneath him, fists grasping sheets and eyes slammed shut as his tongue lolled about inside his open mouth.

Nick enjoyed feeling the constantly changing pressure along his cock as he fucked Charlie, but probably his favorite part of the sex was the sensation of his balls, full and heavy, bashing against Charlie’s arse over and over. He couldn’t wait to drain those bull testicles into Charlie, flood him with a physical manifestation of his love.

But first he needed to fuck the everloving daylights out of him, and this was only matching his best work — not exceeding it. 

Nick’s hips were moving as swiftly as possible — honestly, any faster and his dick might break the local speed limit. So how else could he do this?

A light bulb went on in his head. He slowed down and pulled out of Charlie altogether, making his boyfriend whine angrily.

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,” Nick muttered. He grabbed Charlie’s hips and twisted them onto their side, keeping Charlie’s shoulders and head flat against the mattress. One of Charlie’s legs remained bent a bit while the other flopped down onto the bed. Satisfied, Nick took the opportunity to apply some more lube and then mounted Charlie, settling his legs around his midsection and his arms around Charlie’s head. 

“Green?” he asked.

“Green,” Charlie responded.

And then Nick plunged in again, not bothering to take it slow. Charlie roared as Nick filled him, this adjusted angle pressing all kinds of new points inside him. Nick moved his hands to grip Charlie’s hips on either side and built up speed as he fucked him. He was starting to sweat from the effort, his body turning more and more red as it began to glisten. Charlie’s eyes actually rolled into the back of his head as Nick used his hole — it seemed this new angle was making it easier to rub against his prostate, judging by the relentless tremors along Charlie’s arms.

This was definitely a step up, but Nick needed to sweeten the pot. Or spice it up, rather.

“Gonna do something,” Nick said, slowing his thrusts so he could talk properly. “If you don't like it, tap me three times, okay?”

Charlie, his head lolling about on the pillow, gasped a few times before looking at Nick and nodding.

🥙🥙🥙

Still fucking into Charlie, Nick bent his torso until he had lowered one of his armpits right onto Charlie’s face. It was taking a lot of core strength to fuck Charlie while in this position, but the happy squeal Charlie made the first time he inhaled Nick’s scent was more than worth the years of crunches and bird dogs and side planks at the gym.

Nick had specifically avoided deodorant that morning given his suspicion that the Blackbirds would give him everything he wanted and he’d want to celebrate. Though he didn’t expect they’d celebrate with good old fashioned hate sex. 

Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick’s shoulders, pulling his pit around his face like an oxygen mask. Nick felt Charlie suck in a long, deep breath and release it before he began licking, placing long, wide, wet stripes up Nick’s hair. There was that familiar tickling feeling that now had the effect of making Nick even more horny. It seemed Charlie’s kink was starting to rub off on Nick — or at least the knowledge that he was fulfilling Charlie’s desires made his dick even harder.

🥙🥙🥙

Without warning, Charlie was shaking apart under Nick, the spicy scent pushing him over the edge. Charlie pressed his face deep into Nick’s armpit and moaned, the guttural echoes reverberating down Nick’s spine to his cock as it plunged in and out of Charlie. From his twisted hips beneath Nick, Charlie blasted cum onto the sheets beside him, white ropes a visual representation of his pleasure as Charlie sucked on Nick’s pit while riding out the waves of his orgasm.

Nick had slowed his thrusting while Charlie came, enjoying the feeling of his hole clamping down around him, but soon picked up the pace when he felt the stirrings of his own climax on the horizon.

Charlie shoved his pit aside. “Yellow!” he yelped. Nick immediately stopped moving his hips.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Charlie panted. “Fine. But you can’t come, I don’t forgive you yet.”

Nick whined. 

“None of that,” Charlie said sternly. “Now get on your back and spread your legs, I have plans for you.”

Well… that did sound a little better.

Nick pulled out of Charlie, falling to the side and laying with his head on the pillows. His angry red cock jutted out from his body, wavering in the air, as Charlie rose and opened a drawer in the dresser. He pulled out a dildo, one Nick hadn’t seen before. This one was pink, thick and veiny. His rim clenched excitedly at the prospect of being filled. He watched with darkened eyes as Charlie applied a condom to the dildo and then lubed up his fingers to open Nick up.

“If you’d told yourself a year ago just how much you’d like taking it up the arse, would you have believed it?” Charlie asked as he crooked two fingers inside Nick’s very willing hole.

“Fuuuck, no,” Nick moaned, writhing around a bit as Charlie readied him. “Never would have thought…”

“But then you saw my cock, my huge, nine-inch dick, and you couldn’t help but turn into a little cock whore, could you, Nick?”

Nick clenched his eyes shut. Being lightly degraded by Charlie was turning him on. How could he have both a praise kink and a degradation kink? 

“Could you, Nick?” Charlie reiterated when Nick didn’t respond.

“Love your cock, love when you fuck me,” Nick gasped.

“I know you do… your hole was made for my cock,” Charlie said. “But not today. Today you’re going to take this thing, and then I’m going to ride you until you make me cum a second time. And then, maybe then, I’ll let you cum. Think you can handle that?”

Oh fuck. Nick thought he might die. He might actually pass away, he was so turned on. 

“Ffff… yes, fuck yes, Char, I can do that.”

Charlie suddenly yanked out his fingers. “Then let’s get started.”

He picked up the dildo and pressed it against Nick’s rim. Nick relaxed his rim, granting the thing entrance, and lay there grimacing as Charlie pushed it into him quickly. After half a minute or so he could feel its flared base against his arse.

“Mmm… not bad,” Charlie murmured, idly fondling Nick’s balls while he adjusted. “But let’s see how you really handle it.”

He reached down and did something and suddenly —

“Holy fucking shit!” Nick yelped as the dildo began vibrating. As the buzzing in his arse grew more frenzied, Nick’s neglected cock oozed precum, enough to slick his length and begin beading up in his pubic hair. This was definitely shaping up to be one of their top hottest and most dizzying fucks. Nick felt like he was starting to get vertigo, his head spinning from the vibrator shoved up his bum.

He almost didn’t notice Charlie smirking and climbing on top of him until he had Nick’s weeping dick in his hand and was guiding it to his hole and sinking down. Nick let out a filthy wail as Charlie took him fully again, his own cock — slowly but steadily re-fattening after his orgasm — resting on Nick’s heaving stomach. 

Nick was just about to comment about the overwhelming sensations from both ends when Charlie lifted up on his legs and slammed back down. Nick lost all ability to communicate beyond arbitrary grunts and uneven huffs of breath as the combination of the dildo pulsating in his arse and Charlie grinding down on his dick threatened to make Nick pass out. He lay there, hovering in the void between reality and bliss, for god only knows how long as Charlie rode it like he stole it.

“Do I have to do all the work?”

It took Nick a moment to realise Charlie had slowed his hips and was asking Nick a question.

“Wot?” Nick asked, barely able to focus his eyes. He was also drooling, and couldn’t seem to do anything to stop it.

“I said, do I have to do all the work?” Charlie repeated. His tone was stern. “Are you sorry for being patronising, Nick?”

His head spun but he managed to answer Charlie.

“Yes, I’m sor — sorry, god, Charlie, I didn’t mean…”

“Nick, are you really, truly sorry?”

“Yes, fuck!”

“Then show me how sorry you are,” Charlie said.

“What? How?”

A huge smirk passed over Charlie’s face. Oh, Nick was screwed.

“Pound me into the mattress, Nick.”

“You want me to… really?”

Charlie leaned down and whispered into Nick’s ear, the little breaths flowing across his ear making Nick shiver with want. 

“Flip me over and fuck me as hard and as fast as you possibly can,” Charlie said. “I want to see stars. I want to be unable to walk for a few hours. I want to have a second mind-blowing orgasm. And then I’ll forgive you.”

“Forgive — you mean —”

“Yes. Then you can cum.”

It was time for Nick to stop being used and instead take what he wanted, what he so desperately needed. Charlie had given him permission for that now, and Nick wan’t about to  waste the opportunity. His cock twitched at the promise of resolving Charlie’s (metaphorical) sexual vice-grip on him. He felt like his entire body was under pressure and ready to burst at the seams.

With a low rumble, he wrapped one arm around Charlie’s waist and used the other to push himself up. A deft twist of his hips and Charlie landed on his back on the mattress while Nick was still inside him. Fuck pulling out and repositioning, this was how Nick fucked when he had a true inferno inside him. 

He didn’t even wait for confirmation that Charlie was alright before he began snapping his hips. He knew Charlie would let it be known if everything wasn’t exactly to his liking. But it seemed it was. He threw his head back, his Adam’s apple protruding from his neck as Nick railed him. 

Nick had almost forgotten about the vibrating dildo lodged in his arse. It didn’t take long before his thrusting propelled the thing out of him, ejecting it onto the floor, where it continued to buzz away. There’s no way the downstairs neighbours couldn’t hear that, but given the banging and shouting coming from above for the last half-hour, Nick figured they’d decided against complaining.

His arse now less restricted, Nick positioned Charlie’s legs over his shoulders, bent him in half, braced himself on his arms and resumed plunging into Charlie like an oil derrick, over and over, rhythmic slapping filling the room as the two men heaved and groaned.

“Is that… the best… you’ve got?” Charlie gasped in between thrusts. 

Pretty cheeky for a bloke getting folded like origami and penetrated to within an inch of his life.

But if he wanted harder…

“Can’t wait… to shut you… the fuck… up,” Nick replied.

Then he winked at Charlie and really let loose.

Collisions on the M1 have happened at slower speeds than Nick’s hips were smashing into Charlie’s body. Were it not for the power of quality lube, Nick was certain the friction would be creating visible smoke between their bodies.

Charlie howled, his voice rising an octave as he whinged and gasped each time Nick bottomed out. Nick also let go, grunting like a bear with the effort of fucking into Charlie. The bed was truly rumbling and the headboard was absolutely caused some drywall damage by this point, but it was too late — Nick simply couldn’t stop himself at this point. It was too much, too fast and too hot, and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d given Charlie exactly what he’d demanded.

Sweat dripping from his brow Nick dipped his head between their bodies and was pleased to find Charlie stroking his own cock as it leaked copious amounts of precum onto his stomach. It seemed like he was getting closer, so Nick reached inside himself and found some last reserve of energy. 

It was so powerful, Nick dissociated slightly. His body kept fucking Charlie, but his mind flashed back to their early days. The animosity that hid both of their underlying attractions. The taunting games they each played, tormenting the other. When they finally, truly let go, confrontation quickly and surprisingly turning to copulation.

Nick couldn’t imagine living a life without Charlie in it. If they’d never met, Nick would have always lacked something, inside and out. Charlie Fucking Spring was the kindest and most thoughtful and caring and amazing person in the whole world, and Nick didn’t quite know how to tell him that.

Fucking a second orgasm out of him would go a long way, though.

“I love you, Charlie,” Nick shouted, unable to keep it in. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I… love — fuck!”

And then Charlie crested, every organ and bone and cell in his body convulsing as he came while Nick continued to slam into him. Charlie outright shouted, incoherent babbling interspersed with commands to keep fucking going, don’t stop, right there, fuck yes. Nick looked down and watched as a shower of cum erupted from Charlie’s cock, splattering sinfully across his torso.

The clenching around his dick was almost too much, but Nick summoned the strength from within not to climax yet. Charlie had said not until he gave permission, and Nick was powerless to defy him on that.

But Christ, he hoped Charlie would allow it soon, because Nick might just have an aneurysm if he held back any longer.

His boyfriend was making those final gasping sounds that Nick knew meant he could process thought again.

“Please… please Charlie…” he begged. It had come to this. Begging. Not that Nick could be arsed to care about degrading himself for such a beautiful man.

“Oh yeah,” Charlie said through hooded eyes. He looked away from Nick, mimicking deep thought as Nick slowly and carefully thrust into him, walking on a knife’s edge.

“Okay, you can cum,” Charlie finally relented. “Cum inside me, Nick.”

Not even two more thrusts and Nick erupted, unloading a massive amount deep inside Charlie as his body convulsed and collapsed on top of his boyfriend. He was straight up screaming, but fortunately his head had fallen into the crook of Charlie’s shoulder and his face was pressed into a pillow, somewhat muffling the sound. The pillow also absorbed a few tears, nothing serious, not like the first time Charlie had taken him all the way, but still… actual tears.

He didn’t technically lose consciousness, but Nick was unsure how long he’d been laying there pulsing inside Charlie when he finally gathered his wits again. When he began to come back to himself, Charlie was rubbing gentle circles in his back and cooing. 

Nick reared his head back slightly.

“Did I do good?”

Charlie smiled. “You did so good, baby, you’re the best boy.”

Nick somehow spurted a little more — he could feel it oozing out of Charlie around his only slightly softened cock. He wasn’t aware it was even possible to cum that much. 

“I like being your good boy,” he said, lowering his forehead to Charlie’s clavicle.

“I know you do, and you are,” Charlie replied softly, wrapping his arms around Nick’s shoulders and gently petting the back of his head. “You are my good boy.” Nick preened and flushed with warmth. He was the top, he was supposed to be taking care of Charlie, but for the moment it was the other way around, and it felt bloody amazing.

Cognizant of his giant rugby body pressing against Charlie’s, Nick rolled over on his side, his sensitive cock flopping out of Charlie with a wet squelch. Nick lay on his side, one leg and one arm still atop Charlie’s figure.

“Sorry… can’t really move yet,” Nick said.

“No sorries, we don’t need to move,” Charlie said. “Unless your neighbours break in here with pitchforks and torches after that ruckus.”

Nick chuckled and gently played with the spatter on Charlie’s chest, swirling it around with one finger while his pudding brain solidified. Somewhere on the floor, the vibrator that had shot out of Nick’s arse like a cannonball was still buzzing away, though neither of them could be bothered to find it and shut it off quite yet.

“Are you still mad?” Nick finally ventured. “About the job?”

Charlie chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Nope.”

“Really?” Nick asked hopefully. “You forgive me?”

“Technically, I don’t have to, because I was never actually mad at you.”

Nick scrunched up his face. “You…”

“I, er, may have trumped that up,” Charlie said. “I thought it was really sweet, actually. Not 100 percent sure I’m going to take it yet but I’m strongly considering it.”

Nick tried to make sense of it, a string of confused statements tumbling out of his mouth. “But you were angry! You said I was patronizing. You called me a douchenozzle.”

“Lol, I did,” Charlie said. “I kind of just wanted a hard fuck out of you?”

Oh my god. Oh my god!

Charlie had said all that stuff just to make Nick angry? Just to piss him off? So —

“So I’d hate fuck you like I used to?”

Charlie just put one hand over his mouth impishly and nodded.

“Are you not… satisfied?” Nick ventured.

“Oh no, I am, I definitely am,” Charlie said, rubbing Nick’s aching arm comfortingly. “Trust me, I didn’t even know it was possible to be this satisfied.”

“So then why pretend?”

Charlie shrugged. “Sometimes, I just want some good hate sex.”

Nick rubbed his eyes. “Cripes! All that just because you wanted me to fuck you hard and fast?”

“Yup!”

“I fucking hate you, Charlie Spring,” Nick groaned.

Charlie just grinned. “No, you love me.”

Nick sighed. “Yeah, I really fucking do.”

Notes:

First things first! Enjoy this art of a vibrating dildo rocketing out of Nick’s arse from his vigorous thrusting into Charlie! Isn’t Skasi6 absolutely incredible?

Now. The mushy stuff. Thank you all for joining me on this journey. It started off with a simple vision — proving that Nick and Charlie, ultimate uwu 🥰🥰 soulmates (/pos), can in fact have steaming hot hate sex. But I think it ended up being so much more. A version of Nick and Charlie whose life paths left them mired in some of their worst impulses — only to find one another, like they do in every universe, and learn to be their best selves. If even a little bit of that came across, I'm happy. Or if all you remember is [insert wild smut here], I'm happy as well.

This is also the longest piece I’ve ever written by far. I appreciate everyone who stuck with it, including as elements of kink started organically making their way in. Fun fact: I’d originally intended to include a choking kink (I mean… strong rugby arms, come on). But ultimately I chose to explore armpits. Maybe I’ll write some choking into another fic…

Thank you to the wonderful people who enriched Scorched Earth.

Thank you to BeezusRed for bringing this fic to life via a must-listen podfic (seriously, their voice… you will melt) and for being so supportive and friendly.

Thank you to Skasi6 for today’s amazing art and for their exciting AU threesome fic, Singed Allegiance.

Thank you to planttaxonomy for being my enthusiastic 🥙 guru and also truly one of the loveliest people.

Thank you to KareliasKiss for beta reading this last chapter and for being one of the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful human beings I know.

Finally, my eternal gratitude to KitSaidOui. I’ve been trying to think of appropriate ways to describe you and your contributions to Scorched Earth, but there simply are not enough words. You’re generous with your time and your talent and your heart. For over seven months, you have been my sounding board, my cheerleader, my enabler, my confidant. You see threads I don’t, remember details I forgot and loved this Nick and Charlie as much as I did. You’re my friend, and I love you. Thank you.

One last thing: Please feel free to write transformative works of Scorched Earth if you so desire. I'm glad my story has touched people, as this is a very personal story and important to me. If it has inspired you to create something, then I have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.