Work Text:
Nick: Miss you Char. I know it’s only been 5 days but it feels like 5 years.
Charlie: Simp. I’ll see you tomorrow!
Nick: Not soon enough. I’ve gotten used to cuddling every night.
Charlie: is that what you call what we’ve been doing almost every night
Nick: Charlie…don’t get me all horny unless you have time for a video call.
Charlie: unfortunately not. heading out to drinks at archer street with coworkers in five. though i’d rather drink you
Nick: You’re killing me here.
Charlie: shame. i’d miss your rugby arms
Nick: just my arms?
Charlie: that giant eggplant you carry between your legs too
Nick: really charlie
Charlie: what? keeping it sfw
Nick: I’m glad you’d miss the important parts of me
Charlie: oh. you’re right. i’d also miss your delectable peach. i would love to take a bite out of that right now
Nick: Charlie…🥵
Charlie: Is there a problem with the thermostat?
Nick: You just like to torture me. Me and the selective body parts that you love and apparently want to consume.
Charlie: you know I love all of you, idiot. always and forever 😘
Nick: 🥹 Love you too, nerd.
Charlie: gotta go find this swanky soho bar. text you after
Nick: 💪🏻🍑🍆💦
Charlie is lying through his teeth–well, fingertips–regarding his whereabouts. In actuality, he’s just entered their concrete stairwell. He slips the phone in his pocket and begins the five story climb to their flat, since their building elevator is broken yet again. He grasps his suitcase with both hands, hauling it upward step by step. It’s slow going, in fits and starts, with long pauses for rest. By the third floor, the handle pulls and scrapes at his hands, reddening them, and he curses his poor packing abilities. If Nick had known he was coming home, he would have waited for him in their building’s entryway and offered to carry the bag up. Charlie would have perfunctorily demurred and then eagerly handed it off when Nick insisted. Then he could have watched Nick’s juicy, round arse appreciatively as his fit-as-fuck boyfriend carried the bag like it weighed nothing. In point of fact, Nick has carried Charlie himself up these stairs more than once, both via piggyback ride, and on one particularly horny, drunken night in a fireman’s carry while Charlie giggled and spanked Nick’s bum.
Tonight however, Charlie must wrestle his own luggage.
Work had insisted he attend the week-long conference in London. It’s been his and Nick’s first week apart in six months since they’d moved into their crappy-but-affordable one bedroom. Though Charlie has been teasing Nick about his simping during their separation, he too has ached for his boyfriend more intensely than he expected, considering they’d survived four years apart while they earned their respective degrees and Nick completed his placement.
So, when the first speaker today had cancelled unexpectedly (and the second wasn’t anyone Charlie needed to watch, and the colleagues’ drinks and dinner could fuck right off) he decided spur of the moment to travel home a day early, without alerting Nick (or work) to his plans.
By the fourth floor landing, Charlie stops to wipe the sweat from his brow, and pulls the fabric away from his grossly damp armpits in a lame attempt to circulate air through his maroon button down, its oppressiveness only increased by the addition of his black tie.
When he’d decided to leave London early, he’d headed straight for Kings Cross to catch the first train back to Leeds. Consequently, aside from having to lie a lot to Nick over the past four hours, he’s also sweating like a pig through his stuffy formalwear, his back soaked from the weight of the rucksack digging into his shoulders. At least he’d changed into his Converse on the train. He probably should have removed the tie as well but…Nick had always liked him in one. Or perhaps, more aptly, taking him out of one.
He doesn’t think Nick will mind if he’s sweaty and rumpled. He’s anticipating the surprise and happiness on his sappy boyfriend’s face when he bursts through the door, the main reason driving Charlie to continue his upward slog.
He arrives at the top of the steps, quads protesting and out of breath, victoriously dumping his suitcase onto the threadbare carpet of the hallway.
A short walk through the dingy, white-walled corridor deposits him in front of his flat. He fumbles with his keys in the tricky lock and when it finally clicks, triumphantly swings open the door like a showgirl debuting on stage. Only to find the space dim and empty, the lingering odour of lasagna or some other savoury treat still faintly in the air. Huh.
He closes the door quietly behind him, dropping his rucksack near his abandoned suitcase. He’d been expecting to find Nick on the couch, watching Big Brother , or something Marvel related and equally awful. Instead, the communal space is tidy but unoccupied, the room silent. It’s a small place. Their options are the living room/kitchen, the bathroom or the bedroom. A quick peek in the bathroom shows it similarly abandoned. The bedroom door is closed and Charlie presses an ear to it. He can hear music playing softly, one of Nick’s old man ‘sexy’ playlists that Charlie had banned from their joint activities.
Then Charlie hears a low moan of pleasure.
For one wild moment he thinks Nick is cheating on him. But no, that doesn’t compute at all, not just because he knows Nick—has a deep and unwavering trust in him—but also, there hadn’t been any indication of a second person in their flat. No shoes on the rack, no extra coat, no bag, only one glass and dish on the draining board…
No, Nick is alone. And if the next muffled moan is any indication, he’s enjoying himself immensely.
Charlie has an instant semi. He’d been teasing Nick over text in the hopes of riling him up, so that they could quickly transition from sweet surprise into something a little more…salty. Only, he didn’t take into account that Nick, not knowing he was returning, would immediately take matters into his own hand. Or he can only assume they’re in hand from the noises drifting to him.
He hesitates briefly—there’s something deliciously illicit about listening to Nick’s noises, unfiltered. But it’s also an invasion of privacy. Should he leave? No, that would be a waste of a potential shared orgasm and his mind is already running amok over what he might see beyond this thin piece of wood. Should he knock? Simply enter?
A guttural “Chaaaaar,” that resonates in his rapidly inflating dick decides for him, and, without further thought, he throws open the door.
He gains a brief, glorious glimpse of Nick starkers, bum on a pillow, legs bent and apart on the bed, right hand around his cock and left holding their Vixen Mustang dildo, specially curved for prostate stimulation, pressed up against his arsehole. Then Nick screeches. Charlie can’t think of a better word for the surprised, strangled sound that flies from Nick’s mouth as his arms flail, the dildo soaring towards Charlie. He yanks his head to the side, narrowly avoiding it hitting him square in the face. It still grazes his ear, bouncing off the opposite hallway wall and onto the floor in a flub of rainbow silicone.
At the same time, Nick tumbles off the bed, dragging their whole duvet with him, landing with an “oof” and a thump of muscled body parts onto their hardwood floor.
“Ow!” Charlie says, cupping his burning ear, at the same time Nick shouts, “Fuck!”
Nick’s somewhat wild gaze settles on his boyfriend. “Jesus fucking Christ, Char, I thought you were a robber or something!”
“Were you trying to take me out by dildo ?”
“I don’t know, it was a reflex!”
Nick is fighting his way out of the duvet, his cheeks and chest a burning, humiliated red.
“I’m so sorry, Nick, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Charlie tries to bite back a smile at the comical sight of Nick, naked, hair sticking up, hand over his heart.
“You’re laughing at me,” Nick reproaches in mock outrage.
Charlie shakes his head. “Mmm mmm,” he replies from his throat, keeping his lips pressed tightly together to contain the mirth bubbling up in him.
“It certainly looks like you are,” Nick accuses, though his blush is beginning to fade.
“I’m laughing with you.” Charlie bursts into giggles that refuse to be repressed.
“I’m not laughing,” Nick says sternly, but he does grudgingly, little pained chuckles that end in an: “oooh.”
“I’m sorry, baby, are you hurt?” Charlie asks solicitously.
“I think I almost broke my bum and my dick when I fell. Two of your favourite parts taken out at once.”
“Want to show me so I can kiss and make them better?” Charlie steps inside the room, finally.
Instead of answering, Nick tilts his head. “Why are you so sweaty?”
“Oh. Carrying my bag up the bloody steps.”
Nick’s face softens. “I would have done that for you.”
“Kinda would have ruined the surprise. Though that was a louder welcome than I expected. I think the entire building might have heard you,” Charlie says, amused.
Nick rises, his dick very much not broken and still half hard. He stalks towards Charlie, who backs away slightly at Nick’s intense expression, his own heart rate doubling. Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love” plays in the background.
“I can make sure you give the building something else to listen to,” Nick growls.
“Like your old-man taste in music?” Charlie asks, but it practically comes out a squeak.
“I was playing my music because I knew you weren’t around. So, what exactly are you doing here?” He grabs Charlie’s wrists, pinning them above his head against their bedroom wall. Charlie licks his lips.
“Well, you see, I wanted to surprise you…”
“You certainly did that.” Nick nuzzles against his neck, nipping at the skin there.
“And then ahhhh…” Charlie loses his train of thought for a moment, as Nick begins to suck a bruise into his neck. Charlie has thoughts, he knows he has thoughts, but Nick is now nibbling at his ear, jumbling them all up.
Nick pulls back, smirking. “You were saying?” He drops his hands to Charlie’s neck to start loosening his tie.
Thoughts reassemble in Charlie’s head. “You said my name, and I thought, might as well take that as an invitation.”
“Ever think of knocking, Char?” Nick slips the tie off and throws it over his shoulder. A brief look at Charlie for confirmation and then Nick begins working open the buttons on the damp, maroon shirt.
“Did briefly occur to me…guess I was feeling naughty.”
Nick slides Charlie’s button-down off his shoulders, so that it falls to the floor. He links their fingers, pushing his hard cock against Charlie’s bare abdomen.
“Hmmm, guess I’ll have to punish you for the interruption.”
Charlie’s own cock jumps at this. He and Nick have just started flirting with kink, but Nick has still been very shy about it. Something about walking in on Nick, defences down, has stripped away those reservations.
“Yeah?” Charlie asks breath hitching.
Nick nods. “That ok?”
“Mmm hmm. Yes.” Charlie accompanies this with a vigorous nod.
“What’s our safe words?”
“Red. Stop.”
Nick nods again. “First thing I’m going to do is force you to listen to my music.”
“Crazy Love” has faded into Jeff Buckley’s rendition of “Sweet Thing” and Charlie will go to his grave before admitting he actually likes it. “You really are trying to torture me.”
“I haven’t even started yet.” He leans forward to kiss Charlie in a way that demands complete submission. Charlie cedes control willingly, something he’s much better at now and proud of himself for. He tries to grind his crotch into Nick’s leg but his boyfriend pulls back slightly to deny him, though he continues his assault on Charlie’s mouth, leaving him whimpering. Nick ends by sucking in Charlie’s bottom lip and biting it gently. When he releases him, they’re both heaving as if they’ve run a marathon.
It takes Charlie a moment to regain his snark. “Didn’t seem like I was the only one being naughty,” he finally manages. “Looked like you were imagining me fucking you.”
Nick growls and picks Charlie up like he weighs next to nothing, which, now that Charlie is running and eating well, isn’t actually true. But his boyfriend is incredibly strong, and Charlie shivers with the appreciation of it.
Nick throws Charlie on the bed so he lands on his stomach, before his boyfriend smacks his bottom. Not terribly hard, neither of them are that into pain. Nonetheless, being so manhandled causes a reaction in Charlie that Nick can easily read.
Nick flips him over, using his hand to rub against Charlie’s crotch, which has hardened significantly in the past few minutes. “I think you like this,” Nick notes perceptively.
“Not much of a punishment, rugby lad,” Charlie taunts.
Nick leans over him, eyes narrowed, moving so that he’s holding Charlie’s hands down again on either side of his head. Their bodies are only inches apart, so that Charlie can feel the heat of his boyfriend’s body, the animalistic lust radiating from him, and he whimpers low in his throat involuntarily. God, he wants Nick to take him, hard.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Charlie asks, in a pitifully pleading and breathy voice.
“Nope.”
Instead, Nick grabs the tie that’s fallen off his shoulder, and uses it to bind Charlie’s wrists together, before securing it to the spindles of the headboard, so that Charlie’s arms are loosely immobilised above him on the bed.
“This ok?” Nick checks, and Charlie nods.
When Nick glares at him, he pushes out a verbal: “Ah, uh, yes.”
“Then your punishment is to lose the use of your hands.”
“What if I have an itch?”
“Then you’ll have to ask if I can scratch it for you.” Nick grazes under his boyfriend’s arm where he knows he’s particularly ticklish and Charlie squirms and giggles under the gentle assault.
“You’re a cruel taskmaster, Nick Nelson,” Charlie says between breathless giggles.
Nick stops his tickling. “If I wanted to be cruel, I could just sit next to you and finish wanking, while you’re helpless to do anything but watch.”
Nick settles next to him and fondles himself, closing his eyes briefly.
Charlie watches and hungers. “You wouldn’t,” he says huskily, throat dry, feeling himself uncomfortably hard in his suit trousers. He wants the polyester monstrosities off, but he doesn’t dare ask.
“Try me,” Nick replies. “There I was, minding my own business, when I was so rudely interrupted. I’m assuming it’s because you wanted a show, right?”
He skims along his length, giving himself a few proper tugs then rubs against the tip, letting out a small moan. Charlie finds himself licking his lips, leaning towards Nick as far as the tie allows, wanting to involve himself in Nick’s pleasure in some way.
Nick looks at him knowingly, eyes hooded. “Got something to say, Charlie?”
“You’re forgetting the Mustang over there.”
The corners of Nick’s lips curve up into a mischievous smile and he slides off the bed and out to the hallway, marvellous arse on display (one side slightly reddened, Charlie notices guiltily). Nick walks out of Charlie’s narrow line of sight through the partially open door. He hears water running and can only guess Nick’s gone to the bathroom to wash off the trusty Vixen.
Charlie squirms on the bed against the restraints, anticipation thrumming in him. God, he hopes Nick isn’t serious about just wanking in front of him. He urgently needs to be included .
Nick returns with the dildo in hand. He flicks open the cap of lube on the side table and drizzles out a large dollop. He captures Charlie’s gaze as he spreads it around.
“Jealous?”
“Yes,” Charlie admits, and Nick laughs a little, leaning over to drop a kiss on Charlie’s forehead.
Nick situates one of their ‘fuck pillows’ under his bum, assuming a similar position to what Charlie had seen when he’d first walked in. Nick’s legs fall open so that his right knee brushes against Charlie’s legs. Charlie strains to watch as Nick spreads some more lube over his hole, inserting the Mustang in slowly. He lets loose a very sexy sound from his throat.
“Nick…” Charlie groans.
Nick turns to him, his eyes a little glazed as he fucks himself with the dildo.
“Yeah?” he asks gruffly.
“You know that would be easier if you let me help,” Charlie offers, tugging his wrists against the tie once again.
“I’m managing. Ooooh,” Nick lets out a long moan after a particularly deep and angled thrust that must have hit his prostate.
“Nick, please,” Charlie pleads.
“Please what, Charlie?” Nick asks, continuing to fuck himself while leisurely wanking.
“ Please let me be your dildo. I’ve got a curved dick too.”
Nick stops his thrusting momentarily to look down towards Charlie’s unfortunately covered crotch. “Hmmm, that does sound appealing.”
“Please, I came home a day early to surprise you, please Nick, let me fuck you.” Charlie knows and doesn’t care that he’s begging.
“I like you all whiny.” Nick pulls out the Mustang and tosses it to the side, then rolls over to straddle Charlie, hardnesses touching through his trousers. Nick leans down, weight on his hands on either side of Charlie’s shoulders, sucking a new bruise below his collarbone.
“I’m not,” Charlie gasps, “whiny.”
“No?” Nick looks up from his handiwork.
“Nope.” Charlie shakes his head for emphasis.
Nick sucks Charlie’s nipple into his mouth, hard. Charlie lets out a mewling sound, pulling helplessly against his restraint.
“Sounded kinda like a whine, Char.” Nick continues to attack him with hard, sucking kisses, leaving a pathway of bruises and Charlie a whimpering, arching mess, Nick’s erection pressing lower against Charlie’s leg as he goes.
Nick arrives at the waist of Charlie’s trousers and looks up with a silent question.
“Please god, take them off,” Charlie affirms.
“I wouldn’t say I’m god…” Nick unbuttons and unzips them carefully. “These are a breeze compared to your skinny jeans,” Nick says approvingly as he yanks them and Charlie’s pants down to his thighs in one, easy go.
Nick smiles at the sight of Charlie’s dick, and then looks up to meet his eyes briefly. “A reward for coming home early,” he says. He takes Charlie in his warm, wet mouth halfway, drawing back and pushing himself further the next time, working up to swallowing him down all the way to the root. Charlie lets loose a garbled string of curses, jerking his leg with the pleasure of it. He desperately wants to thread his hands in Nick’s hair, press on his head as he slowly withdraws his mouth, split lips smiling around Charlie’s dick.
“Oh god,” Charlie says, as Nick circles his tongue around the head. Then Nick takes him in again all the way before pulling back and popping off, leaving Charlie hard and throbbing with need.
“I told you, not god. And that was just a small reward, you did almost give me a heart attack.”
“You’re right, not god, the devil,” Charlie accuses, “Cause you’re evil.”
Nick lets out a throaty laugh. He holds up the Vixen and wiggles it around. “I can always go back to this,” he threatens menacingly.
“No, no, sorry, I’ll be so nice,” Charlie promises. He bucks his hips upward to make his dick bounce a little, drawing Nick’s attention to it, trying to entice him.
“Hmmm.” Nick reaches out to it without even seeming to realise, stroking against it gently.
“Feels so good,” Charlie whispers.
“I do like making you feel good, Char,” Nick replies in a low, raspy voice.
Nick squirts lube into his hand, rubbing it for a moment to warm it up before slowly, methodically, keeping eye contact all the while, rubbing it up and down Charlie’s shaft.
A garbled “nnngh,” comes out of Charlie’s throat, followed by more embarrassing sounds that Nick reacts to with a self-satisfied smile.
Keeping the smouldering eye contact, Nick straddles Charlie, raised up above him, resting on his shins, holding Charlie’s dick with one hand to position himself over it.
Then, still maintaining their eye contact, Nick sits slowly on Charlie’s dick, sliding down inch by controlled inch.
Prickling heat blooms inside of Charlie to match the tight warmth he’s entering, and he lets escape a long, lewd moan as Nick’s muscles clamp around his cock. Nick’s mouth has dropped open slightly, his eyes glassy with pleasure, his hands splayed on Charlie’s thighs to prevent him from thrusting. After he bottoms out he rests there a moment, head dropped forward, their eyes locked together. In that instant there’s no games between them, just a heady combination of lust and love connecting them. If Charlie had the use of his hands he’d draw Nick closer to him. As if reading his mind, Nick leans down, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
“Are your wrists and arms still ok?”
“Yes,” Charlie assures him.
Nick begins to gyrate on him, rather than properly fucking him, rolling his hips around.
Charlie has the sudden strong urge to reach around and squeeze Nick’s round, muscular arse, and why the fuck haven’t they had a mirror installed in their bedroom? If he can’t touch it he wants to see it, but all he can do is lay there and absorb the jolts of pleasure of what have now shifted to tiny, rapid movements of Nick on top of him, his hands still grasping Charlie’s thighs. Charlie tries to breathe through it and not moan too loudly, tries to keep himself calm.
Nick leans back, resting on his hands between Charlie’s splayed legs, rolling himself against Charlie’s dick.
Nick is captivating as he moves, layers of softness over strong abs that undulate as Nick does, his face a picture of bliss as he uses Charlie for his own gratification.
“Oooooh,” Charlie lets slip as Nick writhes, “oh god.”
Nick comes upright again, still fucking himself in small movements.
“Enjoying yourself, Charlie?” he asks.
“Just…here…to…serve,” Charlie pants, the melting of his brain making it difficult to communicate.
Nick leans forward to kiss Charlie again, sloppily, demanding, even as he continues to move, and it draws more sounds out of Charlie’s throat.
“I think you like me using your dick,” Nick says when he draws back a little.
“I do,” Charlie confirms. “I want you to use it.”
Nick sits up, pushing himself up and down a few times, then adjusts his position slightly. He must find the spot because on the next time he fucks downward he lets out a breathy ‘ooohhh’, his eyes go distant, and he begins to fuck himself in earnest using Charlie’s cock.
As he moves, he keeps his left hand pressing down on Charlie’s thigh, a clear indication of who’s meant to be in control.
Charlie tries to just keep breathing at the sight of Nick’s muscular quads flexing as he rides him, clenching Charlie in his tight heat, grunting and groaning with pleasure. Nick’s right hand strokes his dick, and it’s all such an overwhelming combination of imagery and sensation that Charlie finds the pleasure building in him more quickly than he expected. As Nick speeds his movements up and down, Charlie’s stomach begins to tighten and coil, his balls drawing up. Without any ability to slow it down or stop them, he suddenly realises he’s not going to last.
Nick, ever attuned to Charlie’s slightest twitch, slows his movement.
“You’re not going to cum before I’m ready are you?”
“Uh uh,” Charlie replies, not sure it’s really true, especially when Nick squeezes himself tight around Charlie, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“I think if I kept fucking you like that you would come.”
“Nope,” Charlie lies again.
Nick fucks up and down, watching him knowingly. “You wouldn’t be a very good dildo if you got soft before I finished, now would you.”
Charlie closes his eyes, afraid the sight of Nick using him for his pleasure is going to tip him over the edge. He’s too embarrassed to admit that even after six years of having sex with this man, he wants him more each time. Or perhaps it’s that Nick knows him so well, he can play Charlie’s body like an expert musician. A sexpert musician. Not his best, but Charlie’s mind is not good at being witty right now, what little brain power he still possesses trying to provide images of hateful women like Margaret Thatcher and Theresa May to claw him back from the edge. He’d given up on male politicians when his mind had latched onto Justin Trudeau and wouldn’t let go. Shit, now he’s thinking of Justin Trudeau again. He needs something else. He tries to beat back the building heat by reciting the alphabet backwards but gets stuck on X which reminds him of sex, and the current sex god riding his dick.
“Open your eyes, Charlie, I want you with me.”
“Can’t, not if you want me to last,” he grits out, finally admitting the truth. His forehead has broken out into a cold sweat.
Nick slows to a complete stop, giving Charlie a few seconds to back away from the cliff.
Charlie finally cracks his eyes open to see Nick watching him fondly. He brings his hands to Charlie’s chest, tweaking one of his nipples. Charlie bucks involuntarily upwards and Nick squeezes around him.
“Not helping,” Charlie moans.
Nick puts a large hand to Charlie’s cheek, cupping it affectionately. He slides off and Charlie feels both relieved and disappointed, his wet cock suddenly cold in the open air.
“Want to suck me?” Nick asks. “You did say this was one of your favourite body parts.” He waves his dick around in a way that should be comical but just causes Charlie to salivate like some kind of fucked up Pavlovian response.
“Yes, please,” Charlie replies.
Nick puts a couple pillows under Charlie’s head then frowns for a moment before his forehead smooths out.
Charlie looks at him questioningly. “Is everything ok?”
“The bell!” Nick responds eagerly. “We finally get to use the bell.” They’d bought it along with a few other sex toys when they’d started to explore a little more. But they hadn’t needed it yet. “Unless you would rather me untie a hand so you can tap?” Nick checks.
“Bell is fine, Nick, might as well get some use out of it.”
Nick hands him the round metal bell that has a little clicker on the side that dings when it’s pushed, a non-verbal signal that means ‘stop.’ He smiles at Charlie, and any dominance is stripped away leaving only adoration and love in his expression. That won’t do.
“You gonna fuck my mouth or just look at me, Nelson?” Charlie challenges.
Nick's smile grows wider and slightly more predatory as he shakes his head. “You are such a shit. Test out the bell first.”
Charlie swipes the button and it emits a shrill ding.
Nick stares at him, resting a hand on Charlie’s neck loosely, rubbing his thumb up and down the side. They’d never agreed to choking and Charlie trusts Nick implicitly not to do something they hadn’t discussed. Nonetheless, there’s a sense of ownership in the gesture.
“I like you possessive,” Charlie remarks. “Now why don’t you possess my mouth and shut me the fuck up?”
Nick narrows his eyes and releases Charlie’s throat. “Alright, Open up, Spring, ” he commands and Charlie does, eagerly, willingly. He’s never done this before without the use of his hands, and his excitement supersedes any nervousness.
Nick fucks into his mouth shallowly, testing the angle. Charlie moans around his cock and at the salty taste of his pre-cum, encouraging him. Charlie relaxes his throat as Nick fucks deeper, though never too hard and not quite all the way in this position. Charlie’s become good at relaxing his throat. His boyfriend hates it when he gags, even a little bit, and Charlie knows he’ll stop.
Charlie loses himself in the sight of Nick using his mouth for his own pleasure, his abs contracting as he fucks forward, fire lighting his eyes. Charlie’s jaw aches as he tries to keep his mouth firmly pressed around Nick’s large cock, the weight of him pushing against his tongue which he tries to use to greatest effect to increase Nick’s pleasure. Nick curls a hand in Charlie’s hair and pulls and Charlie moans again, writhing under Nick, his own dick throbbing, alone and neglected.
“God Char,” Nick moans. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”
Nick presses in harder and farther and Charlie’s eyes scrunch shut involuntarily as he fights back a gag. Nick pulls out immediately, reaching over to grab a tissue, wiping a puddle of drool from Charlie’s mouth and neck tenderly.
“You know I don’t mind,” Charlie says.
“And you know I do,” Nick replies, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’m close anyway. I want my man-dildo fucking me when I cum.”
Nick adds more lube to Charlie’s dick, which twitches happily with the attention.
“Ready?” Nick asks, once again poised over Charlie’s cock, this time his weight resting on the balls of his feet.
“Definitely,” Charlie responds eagerly.
Nick slides on again, faster this time, and Charlie groans with the hot relief of it.
“Oh god, Charlie, you feel so good inside me.”
Nick begins fucking up and down on him to a Depeche Mode song, keeping one hand on Charlie and the other on the bed as added leverage.
“If you gave me the use of my hands I could touch you,” Charlie offers.
“I can touch myself,” Nick says, removing the hand from Charlie’s thigh and fisting around his cock instead.
Charlie takes advantage of his newfound freedom to add in little, grunting thrusts upwards, each time Nick making a punched-out sound when Charlie pushes in harder, deeper.
Nick starts wanking and fucking down on Charlie hard, his powerful thighs flexing to move his body. He leans forward to plant a sloppy kiss on Charlie’s mouth, and then stays close so they’re breathing each other’s exhales, mouths occasionally crashing together but both too lost in pleasure to properly kiss.
The ecstasy begins building again. “Nick, I’m not going to last,” Charlie gasps.
“Me neither,” Nick says, not slowing his pace. “Wait for me.”
Charlie breathes shakily, closes his eyes briefly to cut off the view, tries to think of unsexy things, but he still feels the heat expanding, the pleasure coiling. Just when he knows he’s passed the point of no return, Nick pinches Charlie’s nipple as he shouts “Now! Oh god, Charlie, fuck!”
Charlie’s own orgasm sweeps over him like a storm, an unstoppable force as he frantically fucks upwards. Nick is squeezing around him, making unholy noises, shooting ropes of cum onto Charlie’s stomach and chest as Charlie joins him, shouting unintelligibly, coating Nick’s insides in seemingly endless pulses. He jerks against the restraints, his feet arching down into the bed, his hands clenching, his left squeezing the bell he forgot he was holding, as it rings out shrilly.
“I didn’t mean that,” he gasps, releasing the bell so that it tumbles aside.
Nick collapses forward onto him and Charlie stills, stretched out underneath him, in a post-orgasmic stupor.
The first intelligible thought that returns to Charlie’s brain is that it is impossible to love anyone more than he loves Nick right now, to want anyone more than he wants Nick in every moment, all the time, dirty socks left on the floor and poor musical taste not even an exception.
As soon as Nick regains the ability to move, he begins to unknot the tie.
“Jesus, Char,” Nick mutters, picking at them. “You really pulled these tight.”
When Nick manages to set him free, it’s a relief to move his arms to a different position. Nick rubs gently around the red indents that have formed on his wrists, kissing first one and then the other.
They lay together for long minutes, a mess of cum and not really caring.
Nick kisses Charlie chastely on the lips. “I’m glad you’re home early, even if you did take a year off my life. That was incredible.”
“I really like this side of you, Nick. I think I might have to surprise you more often.”
Nick laughs. “Maybe we can find safer, less painful ways to unlock that side of me.”
“Do you need an ice pack for your bum? Your dick seemed absolutely fine.”
“Meh, I’ll live. What about you?” Nick asks solicitously, kissing him on his still sore ear. “Do you need ice?”
“I’ll live,” Charlie echoes. “Although I’m glad those years in rugby taught me some reflexes for flying objects or we might have ended up in the A&E tonight for a broken nose.”
Nick starts giggling into Charlie’s shoulder. “Maybe that should be incorporated into rugby practice. Catch the dildo.”
“Could you imagine trying to explain what happened in an A&E? You see, doctor, it was our very special flying Vixen Mustang that broke my face. Note its special curve. Of course we’d have to bring it in for identification purposes, like when they want to know what insect bit you.”
They dissolve into tears of laughter at the thought of dutifully turning over their rainbow dildo to horrified A&E staff. Nick rests a hand on the side of Charlie’s face, stroking a thumb on his cheek. “I’m glad you dodged. I would have felt terrible.”
Charlie responds by pulling him into a long, languorous kiss.
He tries to get up to retrieve a flannel but Nick refuses to allow him, insisting that it was his responsibility to provide aftercare. Luckily, a pack of tissues saves their floor from any mess.
Nick disappears into the bathroom for a bit, likely doing a proper cleanup, then returns with a wet, warmed flannel, along with arnica cream. Charlie protests that it’s completely unnecessary, but Nick insists, rubbing the cream into the fading red marks on Charlie’s wrists after cleaning his stomach with the flannel. Then his boyfriend quickly settles back into bed when he’s done, pulling Charlie’s back into his front so they’re spooning.
“Love you so much Char,” he mumbles, kissing the base of his neck. “I’m really glad you’re home tonight.
“Love you too, my Rainbow Vixen,” Charlie says.
“Uh uh, don’t you dare. That’s not gonna become a thing.”
Charlie snickers, pulling Nick’s hands tight to his chest. “Fiiiine. But next time I want you to be my dildo with my music.”
He feels Nick smile into his back. “Deal, as long as you promise to never call me that again.”
Charlie shimmies as far back into Nick’s body as he can, trying to narrow a gap that doesn’t exist. Nick squeezes him before his breathing slows, and Charlie’s contented mind drifts towards a dreamworld of dancing Vixen Mustangs.