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He’s right there, driving them home from their first holiday together. Charlie’s boyfriend. Blonde hair hidden beneath a cap. Long eyelashes hidden behind sunglasses. One hand on the wheel, the other resting comfortably on Charlie’s thigh which, in terms of Nick energy, means a near-constant rhythm of thumb taps that don’t exactly match up to the music playing. Luckily the drummer can weave it into the more syncopated version of the song in his head.
Charlie tears his eyes away from the handsome face to his right and tries to enjoy the passing scenery through the scattered rain. It had poured most of the long weekend but it hadn’t put a damper on their activities. At all. Suddenly his thigh under Nick’s hand feels too hot and Charlie squirms, thinking about that tapping thumb and how much time it has spent inside him since they met.
He breathes deep, a tingle running down his spine as his mind runs away with him, replaying the memories of their stolen time in the rental cottage, a treat from Stéphane. A romantic getaway for their first Valentine’s Day, complete with rose petals across the giant bed and custom food in the kitchenette. They literally hadn’t emerged from the small, isolated building for three nights.
Nick apparently has a thing for loud Charlie. Uninhibited Charlie. Charlie screaming Nick’s name as he cums. In fact, Nick is so into it that he’d actually creamed his jeans as he sucked Charlie off against the inside of the front door, luggage handle still quivering from where Charlie had just released it. Had Nick packed clothes? Nah. Just toys and lots of the good lube.
The blue eyes close as Charlie stifles a moan, mashing his curls on the headrest as he attempts to wipe the horniness from his brain. Why is he so insatiable for this man? He sinks into an awareness of the pleasant ache of several body parts.
After a minute where he regains some composure, he straightens back up and looks over again at the object of all his desire. Nick is a conscientious driver, staying alert to the moderate traffic around them and the road conditions. Charlie feels safe and loved.
The amber eyes flicker to him for a nanosecond and Charlie smiles reassuringly, both of them vocalizing tiny mews of contentedness in harmony with the latest bop Nick insists for his drive time. He says it helps him concentrate if he can sing along.
Charlie maintains a mental list of the many endearing things that make Nick such a golden retriever. It’s a game he plays, a way to embrace the positives in his life and sometimes a helpful reminder of why he’s in love if Nick’s being a flake or a little shit.
Today he’s trying not to fall back into the mental movie that wants to unreel like the sexiest porno he never saw. He shouldn’t still be this hot and bothered; he wants to feel satisfied, replete. He does! It was lovely! He’s just… overwhelmed by how deep this connection runs.
It’s not just physical but… the fucking is amazing. Nick brings an intensity to it unlike anything Charlie has ever experienced before. And, he has to admit to himself, Nick brings an appreciation of Charlie’s own body that’s impossible to deny. Nick worships him every chance he gets. Shit, this isn’t helping.
Charlie feels his salivary glands activate, sending a wave of spit up over his back teeth. He swallows and is swept away on a sensory overload journey to the last time he had Nick’s cock bumping the back of his throat, the unique combination of apricot and nutmeg his boyfriend’s skin evokes. The swirl of sweet and earthiness is just there, a recent memory teasing his tastebuds.
His gaze drifts out the window again but he doesn’t see any of the landscape between Danby and Leeds. There’s moonlit moments of pale flesh hovering over him. Kisses along a hip bone that took all afternoon. Caramel sauce dripped across a broad back. An enormous pile of messy towels in the corner.
His dick twinges and he presses his legs into the seat of Nick’s Fiat Punto trying to give the lust somewhere to bleed off. He really can’t explain still feeling this pent up after everything they spent the last 72 hours doing. Would Nick be offended to know how horny Charlie still is after all that? Ack, why does he have to be anxious about literally everything. He practices his self-soothing exercises.
It works for a few minutes but then his glorious man is humming next to him and the resonance of the beloved rumble sends him right back into the thick of the recollection. Charlie’s holding his breath as his eyes close again and he watches it play out on the inside of his lids. His favourite part…
It had gone on and on. Just the way Nick requested. Languorous tongue, skillful fingers, increasing the stretch with a series of toys. The one with all the spheres was especially effective at making Nick sound like he’d been shown to the gates of heaven and then tied up outside them like a naughty dog. Making Nick sound tiny and pathetic was surprisingly rewarding. The trust, the vulnerability of it all…
Nick below him, Charlie’s palms spreading the meaty mounds so he can see himself pressing in. Nick in front of him, forearms braced on the wall as Charlie’s pelvis slams against him. Nick above him, hands entwined as the massive torso undulates them both into a land of ecstasy.
“You okay there, Char?”
Charlie blinks and glances down. “Oh. Um, I’m… good?”
Nick smirks. “Really?!”
Charlie groans. “Shut up. It was just… a wonderful weekend, ok?”
Nick’s hand is still on his thigh and it squeezes there, firm and loving. “Yeah. Here’s to many more to come.”
Their eyes meet momentarily and it’s a promise, a future laid out as clearly as the highway under them.