Chapter Text
Nick
I do not want to be here.
I have a full course load along with three days of hockey and games on the weekend. When I was scheduling my classes, I made sure I had at least one morning or afternoon off. This semester that break falls on Thursday mornings. Which apparently was also one of the only times this guy was free.
I know I shouldn’t be complaining.
After I barely scraped out a D on our first test in my Algebra 1 class I knew I was in trouble. I’d taken Algebra in high school and I’d passed, but barely. Math was never my strong suit. And now I’d put off the required class until my senior year.
When I’d explained to my best friend, Tara, how I was going to fail out with only two semesters left, she was sympathetic. I mean, she teased me till I was red in the face, but she still came through. She’d immediately said she would take care of it. And a couple hours later I’d gotten a text saying to meet her friend Charlie at his off campus house on Thursday morning, nine sharp.
Ugh.
So here I am, pulling up in the ridiculous sports car my dad insisted on buying for me. Like I was so shallow I’d just forget the previous thirteen years of neglect if he bought me something shiny. I mean, I’d taken the car, sure, but once the title was in my name I’d told him to go fuck himself. He’s been all but begging me to visit Montreal ever since. Honestly, if I’d have known that was all it took to get his attention, maybe I’d have said it sooner. Guy’s a prick though so probably not.
I look at the row of Victorians in their bubblegum colors. It’s obvious which house is Tara’s friend’s.
“Look for the flags,” she’d said and yeah—
There’s a progress pride flag in the large front window. A “protect trans kids” flag flying on the porch. And up in a window of what I assume is a bedroom is a blue, white and green flag. I’m not entirely sure what that one represents but it reminds me of the pink, white and orange one hanging in Tara’s living room.
The place looks nice, blue like a bird’s egg with a dark wooden front door and window frames. It’s inviting enough, but I still don’t want to be here. On my one morning to sleep in all week. It’s bullshit.
I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth though. I cannot afford to fail this class for a plethora of reasons, not least of which is getting kicked off the hockey team. And according to Tara her friend is: “Brilliant, really very sweet and quiet. Honestly, Nick, he’s the loveliest guy, just really shy.”
At 8:58 am I get out of my car, swing my backpack over my shoulder and head up to the house. I skip up the front stairs, then knock on the dark wooden front door.
I’m only waiting a moment before the door swings open.
I blink once. I blink twice.
Holy shit.
“Nick?”
“Er— y—yeah that’s— that’s—,” I stammer. Which is really really unlike me.
It’s just—
There is an absolute angel standing in front of me. Like— like not of this earth kind of beautiful. The blue eyes are just wow. The full pink lips. The inky black curls that bounce slightly with movement. Just— I am absolutely star struck.
I’m also confused as fuck by my reaction because Tara’s friend who is standing here? Is a guy.
And I’m straight.
Like— I’m straight straight. Which isn’t a deflection either.
My best friend is a lesbian, her girlfriend is a meddling gremlin, and I am very secure in who I am. They’ve tried— or okay they’ve asked and double checked, that whole bit without it being weird. I’ve even kissed a guy before or, well, he kissed me. And it was whatever, no big deal but it wasn’t life altering or anything. If anything at all, it made me more secure in my sexuality.
I can admit when a guy is good looking, I have eyes. And again I’m secure in who I am, know who I am. But this is like—
Charlie is a vision.
I blink again and realize I’m being so fucking weird.
“God, sorry, yeah— yeah I’m Nick,” I say, holding out a hand. Charlie stares at my hand, and like I know it’s a bit old fashioned but whatever. Sarah Nelson raises gentlemen— well she raised one at least. Charlie’s lips quirk up at the corners into a little smile and then he puts his hand in mine for a quick shake.
And holy fuck. I have got to be losing my actual mind. First I am— stupefied by this guy and now I swear I see sparks where our hands touch.
Charlie pulls away and pushes the door open a little wider welcoming me inside.
“Welcome Nick,” Charlie says as I walk into the house. I glance at him, then swallow thickly. God, the way he says my name is like— Jesus. But also not, also only unholy things.
“Nice place,” I say stupidly as I glance around. The front door opens into a foyer, then off of that is a living room to the left and a hallway to the right. It’s all highly decorated. Maximalist style but it feels lived-in, not cluttered. It’s very colorful, playful while still being adult. Paintings and photographs cover almost every wall surface I can see.
After two years in the beige frat house it’s like a punch to the gut of color and life. It’s so cool here.
“Thanks,” he replies, heading down the hallway. I blink out of my thoughts. I’ve just caught a glimpse of a painting in the living room that is of Charlie and he’s— he’s nude or close to it and, well, I just need a closer look.
Obviously, I follow him instead, and I can’t help thinking I’d probably follow him anywhere. As Charlie walks ahead of me, leading me into a formal dining room, I let my eyes linger over his form.
He’s thin in a willowy, elegant way, but he’s not feminine at all. Which makes me all the more confused. And he’s tall; I’d noticed he was only a couple of inches shorter than me. The girls I usually go for are way shorter than me. He’s wearing a baggy heather gray t-shirt and skinny jeans that are cupping his pert little ass in a way that is making me question things. As if it wasn’t bad enough before.
Here’s the other thing: I’m not like this. I’m not lecherous. I’m a jock and a frat boy but I’m not a fuck boy. I’m respectful, and like I said before, I’m a gentleman. So this instant lusting over Charlie’s body thing is new for me, on top of the fact that I’ve never— well I’ve never given a guy a second glance.
Charlie stops at his dining table, and I look around the room. It’s as decorated as the foyer, hall and living room were. There’s a large wooden dining table in the middle of the room, a tall china cabinet on the far end stuffed full of knick knacks and again more photographs and paintings on the walls. I look back at him and see him sit down. I join him at the head of the table where he’s got books and notebooks spilling out of a bright green backpack.
“So,” he begins, those bright pale eyes watching as I sit and set my own boring black backpack on the table. “Tara says you’re struggling in Algebra 1?”
I nod, although I feel like a fucking idiot. Charlie nods back clearly waiting for me to explain.
“Er— well I um— I took it in high school. Then I kind of put it off until this year. I apparently retained none of it. And I’ve always— uh I’ve always struggled with math so—”
“Okay, let’s see where you're at,” Charlie says, pulling out a notebook and a calculator. I do the same, also pulling out my textbook. I flip to the next chapter we’re supposed to be reading then turn the book towards him. Charlie scans it quickly, his tongue peeking out quickly to wet his lips as he does. I’m fucking enraptured by this but I quickly glance down at the textbook when Charlie looks up from it.
God, I hope he didn’t notice that. The last thing I need is to make a total fool of myself in front of Tara’s friend. She’d never let me live it down.
“Alright, so you’ve read this chapter?” Charlie asks, continuing after I nod in agreement. “What I want you to do is summarize it for me. That way we can see where your knowledge gaps are.”
I nod, do as told, badly.
It’s not– like it’s not my fault though. He’s sitting there all beautiful and brilliant, nodding as I pause and stumble over my words. The whole time he’s resting one elbow on the table and in his hand is a black ballpoint pen, the end tip of which is between his lips. The look in his eyes is so innocent, just encouraging me, but my mind is completely stuck on him. I watch in awe as he sucks the pen further into his mouth, his lips wrapped around it and his thick eyebrows draw together slightly. I realize I’ve stopped speaking.
Fuck. Shit. Get it together, Nelson.
So I look away to try to concentrate on the pencil in my own hand, on where the lead tip is resting on the notebook in front of me. Just trying to really ground myself. It doesn’t help.
Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever been this dumb in front of a girl I liked. Not that— I don’t like Charlie. He’s just— he’s really intense.
Charlie starts jotting down notes while I finish talking, and he looks them over when I finish. I almost sigh now that the pen is out of his mouth. Now that I don’t have that somehow filthy image in my head. Finally giving me a moment to breathe. And yeah, to look at him, honestly.
He is really strikingly beautiful. Like, his eyes are big and his lips are really full, and he’s got this cute little nose. But his features are really masculine, like his eyebrows and his jawline. So, I really don’t know what is making me feel like this, like the breath has been stolen from my lungs. It’s— it’s so confusing. I don’t have time to figure it out either, because Charlie is speaking again, and I’ve definitely missed the first part of what he said.
“Sorry, I missed that,” I admit and Charlie just smiles.
“Yeah, no, I was just saying that it seems like you understand what you’re being asked, but it’s like the formulas aren’t sticking,” Charlie explains again. I nod because that’s about right.
It’s taking everything in me not to stare at his mouth. So instead I look into his eyes, which honestly, isn’t better. But at least when I look at his eyes, the fantasies playing at the edges of my mind fade. A bit.
Charlie is talking again and I try desperately to pay attention. He’s leaning over his notebook, writing out the example problem step by step so he can break it down for me. The trouble is that I just cannot pay attention. I want to listen to him as he starts reviewing the problem going through the steps to solve it. I’m not trying to waste his time.
But fuck.
If he could just be, like, less gorgeous that would help me a lot.
As it is, I have to force myself to focus on my own notebook. Writing down each number carefully as Charlie tells me what to do with it. My brain is screaming at me to remember this shit, while another part of my brain is screaming to stare at Charlie forever.
He talks me through a couple more problems from the assignment section. And I continue to try not looking at him or at least not as intensely. Like I can be cool. I can be nonchalant.
This is fine. This is whatever.
“Alright, you do the next one on your own,” Charlie says sitting back in his seat. Which is— fuck me. He crosses his arms, phone in one hand, and leans back, legs spread wide, the picture of relaxed. While I am sitting ramrod straight in my own chair. My breathing is very even and slow because I am taking very deliberate breaths now. I watch him for another long moment until his eyes flick from his phone to me.
Shit.
I look down at my textbook immediately. I write out the problem, start solving it, but something isn’t right. I’ve fucked something up already the numbers don’t make sense. I’ve screwed something up with the formula because I just– I can’t think. I can’t remember fucking anything but the sound of Charlie’s voice. If only I could hear the words he’d been saying too. I sigh, pushing the notebook toward him when I finish as best I can.
“Let’s see,” he says cheerfully, taking up the paper. He frowns looking over it at me.
“That bad?” I groan softly and Charlie shakes his head.
“No, no, you just— it’s just you’re kind of making dumb mistakes. Like here?” He sets the notebook back down and shows me where I mixed up the formula. It’s so obvious when he shows me where I’ve gone wrong. “You’ve got it, we just— need to figure out how to get you less distracted.”
I glance up at him quickly then away.
Absolutely caught.
——
Charlie
When Tara had texted me asking if I would be willing to tutor her friend I, of course, said yes. I might be studying English Lit, but I’ve always had a head for numbers. I’ve seen my friends and peers struggle, and I’m always willing to help when I can.
When Tara said it was her old childhood friend Nick Nelson, I thought no problem, she’s mentioned him a bunch. I thought it was great we’d finally meet. Then, because he was coming to my house, I looked him up.
And holy god.
Charlie: what the hell Tara!
Tara: yes?
Charlie: who is this guy?!
Tara: my friend Nick?
Charlie: yes! why does he look like that?!
Charlie: 🥵🥵🥵
Tara: 🤣🤣🤣
Tara: omg. well he plays hockey so he works out like 3x a week
Charlie: Jesus
Charlie: and he’s single
Tara: single
Tara: and very straight
Charlie: 🙁☹️😩
Charlie: why are you doing this to me?
Tara: omg you’ll be fine. it’s not that big of a deal.
Charlie: says the lesbian about the hottest guy I have ever seen.
Tara: Charlie
Tara: he. is. straight.
Tara: like seriously
Charlie: what is he homophobic or something? will he melt if i accidentally flirt with him?
Tara: of course not. he’s a marshmallow.
Tara: I just don’t want you getting any ideas
Tara: he really needs the help
Charlie: 10-4
Charlie: I’ll behave
Tara: good
Charlie: if he does
Tara: Charlie! 😫
Which was last week. And Tara had set everything up for today. And now he’s here.
And the thing is, I’m not a liar. I’m very honest. So when I said I’d behave if he did, I meant that. Sure, it was a little bit of a joke, because, like, if the guy is straight he’s straight. I’m not going to hit on someone who doesn’t want me, I don’t want to make him actually uncomfortable. I’m not an ass. In fact, most people describe me as quiet, sometimes shy, I get nice a lot and I’ve even heard very sweet a few times.
But what my friends know, but don’t really tell people, is that I am, at my very core, a menace.
So when I open the front door to Nick Nelson’s knock, and his mouth honest to god drops open and his eyes grow comically wide? I can’t help myself.
That just isn’t the reaction of a straight guy. It just isn’t.
I am all business at first. He’s not here as my eye candy, and he honestly does need my help. So we get started, seeing where he is at, how much he knows, how his brain works. He’s not dumb, that much is clear, but the math just isn’t clicking for him. But the whole time he is obviously distracted by something, and it’s not hard to figure out that it’s me.
I know it’s not exactly fair, but I’m definitely pulling out the big guns here. Like I’m sucking on my pen and giving him the most innocent eyes possible. Making sure my dimples are on display when I smile at him. He’s stuttering enough that I know he’s flustered. The guy Tara’s talked about before is confidence personified. The guy in front of me is having some kind of crisis.
His honey colored eyes keep flicking around my face, catching on my lips before he very deliberately looks me in the eye. It doesn’t seem to help, probably because I don’t back down or look away myself. So he’s caught in a little bit of a loop while trying to pay attention.
I watch him work on the problem I’ve asked him to do while he sneaks little glances at me. And like yeah, this isn’t going to work if the guy can’t keep his eyes off of my lips. Which, I mean, I’m not complaining. This shit is doing wonders for my self esteem. The world’s straightest man very obviously fantasizing about me? Yeah, I’ll take that.
So I make a decision. Just a little flirting. If he’s into it, cool. If not, that’s cool too, I’ll just have to figure out a way to get him to concentrate.
He looks so guilty when I subtly call him out. That’s fine, I’m not trying to scare him though, so I’ll be gentle.
“I um— I don’t know what you mean,” he says, swallowing thickly. He won’t look at me, his eyes now firmly on his notebook. One finger tracing the spiral binding, the other tapping his pencil.
I roll my eyes, giggling softly before I look back at him. He’s looking at me again with a bewildered expression on his face.
“You’re staring,” I point out, setting my phone down on the table. Nick looks away guiltily.
“Sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” I answer honestly. Nick nods, glancing back at me before his eyes fall to the textbook. “Have you ever– done anything with a guy?”
Nick looks up at me sharply and shakes his head vehemently. He doesn’t look disgusted or anything like that, but he does look shocked that I’m asking him that. I can feel the pleasant smile I’ve been holding morphing into a smirk. Sometimes I just can’t help being a little shit.
“Sorry, sorry, you’ve just been like– like really staring at me.”
“Sorry,” Nick apologizes again. His pale cheeks turn a very lovely shade of pink, but this time he doesn’t look away. “I wasn’t– sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I giggle again, then cover my mouth to hide my grin, “I’m not uncomfortable, Nick. I do not mind. At all.”
“No?” Nick asks, setting his pencil down, and even though he’s gentle with it the sound of it hitting his notebook seems loud. Like every sound is magnified.
“No, I mean why would I mind a cute boy looking at me?” I ask honestly. This for some reason makes him duck his head and look away from me. I almost think I’ve gone too far when he doesn’t look back for a long time, but then when he does there is still a hint of a pleased smile on his plush pink lips. I can’t help but smile back at him.
“You are um–” Nick starts, then pauses, his eyebrows draw together, then he clears his throat, shaking his head. His eyes are back on the textbook.
I have a decision to make here. I can be gentle, ask him what I am, coax him out of his shyness. Or I can pull him out and push him straight into the deep end.
I rest my hand on the table, my pinky almost touching his thumb and I can feel his body heat against my skin. I’m watching his face and see his eyes slide over to our hands. Then I look there too, and his thumb twitches but he doesn’t touch me.
Deep end it is.
I lick my bottom lip and tap my index finger against the table. Nick looks up from our hands and back to my face. He clears his throat then sits back in his chair. He pulls his arms into himself and crosses them over his chest.
“You know you are, like, very attractive, Nick.”
“Er–” He looks at me confused then pushes the auburn hair falling into his eyes out of his face. “Thank you?”
“You are very welcome,” I say cheerfully. “Do you think I’m very attractive?”
“I–” he looks so caught it’s a bit comical. His rapid blinks and shifting wide eyes. “Um– I– I guess so.”
“Really?” I ask, thrilled that he’s said so so easily. Nick nods once then glances back at me.
“I mean– y–yeah, you um– you know you are though,” Nick says, and I giggle since I’m a bit caught. He’s changed his answer a bit, making it seem less like he’s attracted to me and more like I am just attractive. I nod.
“I suppose so.”
“Do you–” he looks confused again then, for some reason, indigent. I think he’s going to call me out on flirting with him so blatantly. But instead what he says next is a bit of a shock. “Do you not know you’re beautiful? I can’t believe guys don't tell you that all the time.”
I stare at him open mouthed. A bit shocked by how vehemently he’s spoken. Then I smile at him shyly, letting my eyes fall to the table before I glance back up at him. He’s blushing harder now, my reaction probably reminding him that wasn’t a very hetero response.
“Thank you, Nick,” I say, then bite my lip. I watch his eyes drop to my mouth. His own eyes becoming hooded, his tongue sneaking out slowly to lick his lips. Then he blinks and shakes his head, I’m sure pushing away whatever naughty thoughts have entered his mind. Which is the exact opposite of what I want.
“You’re um— you’re welcome,” he says, giving me a shy self-conscious smile.
“Do you like my mouth, Nick?” I ask, laughing heartily when Nick’s mouth drops open.
“Charlie!” Nick gasps like he’s scandalized. I laugh again, covering my mouth.
“It’s a valid question! You have been staring at it all morning!”
“I— I have not,” Nick counters weakly. Like he knows I’m going to call him out on it, because I am.
“You so have,” I say, then smirk at him dropping my hand onto the table, this time so that my pinky lands just onto his thumb. He swallows thickly as he looks at our hands and shakes his head, shrugging a little. I watch as a whole conversation plays out over his face, his eyebrows drawing together, his mouth opening and closing as he chooses what to say. Finally he looks up at me and opens his mouth again like he’s going to speak. At first nothing comes out.
“I—”
“Have you been wondering what my mouth would feel like on you?” I ask and Nick chokes.
“Jesus Charlie,” Nick breathes, his own mouth dropped open in shock.
“You know, I’m really good with my mouth,” I say matter of factly. Nick is still gaping at me but slowly he closes his mouth, pulling his bottom lip in. We don’t speak for a long moment, just looking into each other's eyes. I’m deciding how hard to push this when Nick finally speaks.
“Are you?” he asks, letting his eyes drop to my lips. I smirk at him and nod.
“Oh yeah,” I say, then lean forward a bit closer to him. Nick’s eyes snap back to mine. His breathing is louder, faster, like he’s already losing control. “I can show you, if you’re curious.”
Nick blinks a couple of times then he swallows.
“What— um— what do you want to show me?” he asks. I smile at him sweetly, then push my chair back just enough to stand. Nick’s chair is already turned toward my side of the table leaving me plenty of room.
I move to stand in front of him then sink onto my knees resting my hands on his own knees.
“Oh shit,” Nick breathes, swallowing again. His handsome face is so open and shocked and turned on I can barely stand it. I bite my bottom lip as I slide my hands up his thick thighs. Which are just— holy shit. I don’t think I’ve watched any hockey outside of like The Mighty Ducks, but apparently I’ve been missing out if hockey players are built like this. When my fingers reach his fly Nick is actively panting above me. When I look up at him, I see those gorgeous brown eyes darting from my face to my hands like he just can’t decide where to look.
“This okay?” I ask as my fingers make quick work of the button then the zipper of his light wash jeans. Nick nods but I just raise an eyebrow at him.
“Um y— y— what um— what are you going to do?” Nick asks like he doesn’t already know. I cock my head to the side with an amused expression on my face. My eyebrows draw together in a quizzical look.
“Have you never gotten a blow job, Nicholas?” I ask and he groans shortly. He shakes his head then quickly nods.
“I— no, yes, I have. I just— I um— I didn’t know if that’s— I didn’t want to assume you’d— that you’d want to do— to do that to me,” he says so sincerely that it makes me want to kiss his sweet mouth but I refrain. That isn’t what this is. To be honest, I’m not sure what exactly this is but I know it isn’t sweet kissing. I giggle at him as I push his jeans open.
“No, I definitely want to blow you, Nick,” I say and he nods.
“Oh— um yeah that’s— okay, that’s cool,” he says, trying for nonchalance but his breathing is ragged at this point. I’m sure if I took his pulse it would be galloping.
“I mean, I don’t have to,” I say sitting back on my heels. Nick gasps, sitting forward, following me. He shakes his head.
“No wait,” Nick gasps and I smirk at him. I let my hands run up under his navy t-shirt, it’s buttery soft against the back of my hand while my palms run over his abs. Jesus, his many abs, covered by a dusting of softish hair. I want to see if it’s golden or auburn matching his hair but again this isn’t really that. He jumps slightly under my fingers, his stomach undulating a bit with surprise since he wasn’t expecting the touch.
“You want my mouth on you?” I ask looking up at him. Nick nods and I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he breathes. I sit up on my knees again and lean forward and he sits back. He’s watching me still. I slide my hands back down to the waistband of his jeans then let my fingers slip under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“You want my mouth on your cock, Nick?” I ask in the most innocent voice possible, as if I don’t know what I’m doing to him. Nick’s eyes close and he swallows.
He doesn’t nod this time, just speaks, “Y–yes, yeah, Charlie,” he agrees.
“Lift your hips,” I instruct and then pull down his boxers and jeans below his knees.
To be honest, I’m not sure what exactly I’m expecting. Like Nick is absolutely gorgeous head to toe, Tara’s description of him being basically the nicest guy ever has been true so far, and like I’d said before he wasn’t an idiot. But there can only be so much going for a guy right?
Wrong.
So wrong.
When I pull his clothes away at the same time that Nick pushes the hem of his shirt up slightly with one hand exposing a bit of his belly. I feel my mouth drop open slightly as I take in his cock.
This absolutely gorgeous, thick, long, pink cock.
Honestly, I’m suddenly wondering if I’m being punked, because how can someone be this perfect? When I look up at Nick, his chest is rising and lowering rapidly and he’s looking a bit shy like he isn’t sure what I’m going to say.
So I just don’t say anything.
——
Nick
Charlie is just kind of staring. I’m really not sure what to do, like has he changed his mind? That would be fine, absolutely. Or is he displeased? Like is there something wrong with me? Beautiful as he is, I'm sure he’s been with any number of guys so like– Charlie thinking something is wrong with me, surprisingly, is less fine.
Then he licks his lips and wraps his hands around the base of my cock.
Oh man.
I am so fucked.
I gasp, my mouth falling open. Without conscious thought I’m pulling the bottom of my t-shirt up more, like I need it out of the way. I’m surprised I have enough brain power to think that just ripping it all the way off is a bad idea. We’re still in his dining room, a common area in the house I know he shares with Tara’s friend Elle and her boyfriend. But I'm not thinking enough to say anything further in that regard.
No, the only thing I can think is Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.
He sighs softly, more of a huff really, like he’s put out.
“O–okay?” I ask, a task which takes all of my brain power. Charlie looks up from my cock and back at me.
“You are just too perfect, Nick,” he says. I scoff and I think I’m going to try to say something else but then he’s sliding his hands up my shaft and yeah. No words.
My head falls back against my shoulders as I try to keep breathing. There are cherubs painted on the ceiling. I see them; I know they’re there, but my brain is not computing this at all. The chair under my ass is cold and hard, but this is more ambient input that I cannot compute. There must be a whole world going on outside but the only thing I’m actually able to take in is Charlie’s hands on me.
He pumps me for a moment and then I hear him shuffle a bit and glance down at him. He’s closer between where I’ve spread my legs as far as my pants will let me. He’s looking up at me and I realize he’s been waiting for me to look at him. I know this because as soon as I do so, he takes the head of my cock into his mouth.
The groan I let out is from deep in the back of my throat. One of my hands immediately falls onto his shoulder and the other is buried in those dark curls of his at the back of his head. I don’t push or pull him, I’m just trying to hang on for fucks sake.
Charlie makes a pleased humming noise as he takes me deeper into his mouth. His warm, wet mouth. I can’t help the whimpered gasp I let out. It’s totally involuntary. I’m trying to watch him. I’m trying to keep my eyes on him, I can tell he wants me to by the way he’s also keeping eye contact. He takes me so deep into his mouth, his hand around the rest of my cock that he can’t fit.
“God,” I breathe. Which is apparently permission or some kind of activation code. Because he is on me double time. His head is bobbing up and down on my cock. He’s humming and moaning softly like he’s actually enjoying himself. The feeling of which shoots down my shaft and straight to my balls, that his free hand is now handling. Holy–
This isn’t my first blow job. I’ve gotten plenty, but I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone as enthusiastic as Charlie. I don’t know if any girl has ever looked quite so happy to be down there. Which is so valid, but also– I am on another fucking planet right now.
“Char– Charlie, oh my god,” I gasp, flexing my fingers against his scalp and shoulder. Charlie just hums back happily.
I’m finally able to peel my eyes open and look back down at him. Might be a mistake because he is so unbelievably gorgeous blowing me. Like ethereal. Somehow, even with his mouth full, he looks positively pleased with himself. And it’s not like I’m going to stop him or call him out either.
“Christ, Charlie, you’re good at that,” I announce, my hand on his shoulder moving up his neck to his jaw. I gently grasp his face as he continues bobbing his head. Talking is difficult really, like I’m not sure how I get the words out, not with how I’m gasping for breath. My mouth is hanging open at this point as I try to get oxygen to my brain, especially since all the blood in my body is in my cock. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this hard in the whole of my life.
Charlie pulls back with a gasp and a soft cough. My fingers on his jaw stroke his skin softly.
“You good?” I ask, a little worried about him.
“You want to fuck my mouth?” is all he asks.
I groan and feel my eyes roll back in my head.
“Yeah?” he breaths right onto my tip, his tongue sneaking out to lick at my slit. I shudder then nod vigorously.
“Yes, god Charlie, yes, please please let me– let me, yes!” I almost shout holding out the S in the word as Charlie takes me back into his mouth. I open my eyes again as I lift my hips just a bit sliding further into his mouth. It’s a little uncomfortable though so instead I wrap both hands around the side of his head. I start moving him up and down my cock. His soft lips are wrapped around me tightly as he sucks and I groan loudly.
Should I be concerned his roommates are going to hear? Probably?
Am I? Fucking no.
Like, I’m straight, I should definitely be worried about people seeing me fucking this beautiful boy’s face. The only thing I can think of though is how good he feels. How incredible it is that he’s letting me do this to him, with him.
I go a little too deep and he sputters. I pull him back quickly, moving his head so he can look up at me.
“You okay? Sorry– fuck sorry–”
“Shut up,” Charlie orders. I shut up, obviously. “Keep going.”
I blink at him. Then slowly I lead him back to where my cock is resting against my stomach. He licks at it making me shiver then he pulls it back into his mouth.
“God, yes,” I breathe as I guide him back down my cock. He chokes slightly but I don’t release him as I look down at him, his eyes are challenging, full of that same mischief they’ve held all morning. Finally I pull him almost off me before pushing his head back down. I repeat this, each time getting slightly further into his mouth. It’s slow at first as I move down his throat until I can’t take it anymore.
I slide one hand to the back of his head holding him in place tightly. My other hand grips the side of my chair as I start lifting my hips. I fuck into Charlie’s mouth fast. My eyes rolling back as my head falls back onto my shoulders. I’m a shuddering, gasping, panting mess as he lets me use him for my pleasure. His hands are gripping my thigh and hip tightly, but he doesn’t push me away or make any sign for me to stop or that I’m going too rough. Instead I can feel him humming against me, moaning low in his throat.
“Jesus, Charlie, your fucking mouth,” I gasp, licking my lips. “I’m gonna fucking come.”
He nods, as much as he can anyway.
“Where? Charlie, Jesus! Where can I come?” I ask, at the same time releasing my hold on his hair. I stop pumping into his mouth and rest back against my chair, now gripping both sides. But Charlie doesn’t let up. He keeps going, bobbing his head, his tongue sliding against my cock. Then he pulls back and strokes me with both hands.
“Come on, Nick, come,” Charlie orders.
I’d like it on record that I’m not actually into that shit. Nothing wrong with it, but power dynamics don’t really do a whole lot for me. Except like everything else with this guy, it’s different.
So when he tells me to come, I fucking do. It’s a total out of body experience. I’m watching myself as I explode, my body shaking as I hold onto the sturdy wood chair beneath me. Thick milky ropes hit Charlie’s beautiful face. I can hear myself shout and groan and moan.
When I’m spent, I’m sagging boneless against the back of my chair, twitching and whining as Charlie continues stroking me. It’s only when I let out a really pathetic, and almost pained whine, that Charlie lets me go. He smiles up at me, all dimples, looking very pleased with himself indeed. But also– just like happy, innocently, like not smarmy or anything. Even with his face covered in come, he looks so fucking sweet.
I’m still trying to catch my breath but I have enough brain power to take the waistband of my jeans and boxers in hand when Charlie starts pulling them up. He stands and leaves the room through a swinging door. I just catch a lot of white but I’m too out of it to notice much else. I vaguely hear water running and deduce he’s gone to the kitchen. Once I’m all tucked away, but still dazed, I blink around. Then I look up at the ceiling. And yeah there are fucking cherubs up there along with who I’m pretty sure is suppose to be Aphrodite in the corner. I’m not like an art buff or anything but it seems really really well done.
But then Charlie’s back and my eyes are on him. He’s fresh faced now as he sits back in his chair.
He smiles at me with all sweetness, like he didn’t just suck my brain out through my dick.
“Alright, so I think you should be able to concentrate a bit more now, yeah?” Charlie asks in that matter of fact tone. I blink at him in bewilderment. I can feel a shocked and scandalized expression take over my face.
“Um–”
“Nick?” he asks innocently, quirking his head to the side slightly, like I’m being the confusing one here.
“Y– yeah,” I mumble, nodding and looking back at my textbook. I feel really dumb, I don’t know if I’ve ever been this come drunk before. Charlie said he was good with his mouth and he was not lying. I look back up at him and he gives me a quizzical look. “Do you– do you want me to–”
I wave at his person vaguely. Charlie looks even more confused than he blinks and realizes what I’m asking. He rolls his lips in trying not to laugh right in my face but the corners of his mouth are up in a smile he can’t really hide.
“Um– yeah, no, I’m good,” Charlie says finally, laughter in his voice. It’s not– like it’s not nice laughter either. He is clearly laughing at me, but what am I going to do? Get offended? An hour ago I’d never thought of a guy with anything but friendship and now I’ve fucked this guy’s throat. So–
“Right–”
“I like good blow jobs,” Charlie says before tapping the textbook with the pen now back in his hand. I frown at that because what? How does he know I don’t give good blow jobs? I could– but then I quickly stop that train of thought when I catch the little smirk on Charlie’s lips.
“Right,” I agree, nodding slowly. I clear my throat as I look back at my textbook.
We go back to the tutoring session and by god he’s right.
I am able to concentrate now.