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Chapter 3
So, the party.
Nick and I have been teasing each other about something stupid, and now we’re standing way too close to each other in the kitchen. I can feel Nick’s heavy thigh pressed against mine, and if you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Nick’s thighs, please do yourself a fucking favour and come to one of his rugby games. His thighs are perfectly formed, the strongest, thickest legs I’ve ever seen, and quite literally make my mouth water. I mean, I am typically an arms man, but I’d never look at another arm again if it meant I could put my tongue on Nick’s hairy hulking thighs for the rest of my life. Inner, outer, front, back... every single bit of them. God, where they fold into the curve of his arse, where they dip into the crook of his groin and the hair lightens a bit before darkening again as it heads in toward the promised land?
All of it.
Fucking take me now, please.
That man is fine. I want him to be mine. And dammit, now my fucking brain is rhyming and not co-operating at all. How can I actually talk to him about what I want? It’s not like speaking in rhymes actually works anywhere but on stage. What am I going to do, go up to him and say:
I’m totally into your bod
You are really way cooler than God
So, pull out your dick
do it right quick
I want to be speared by your rod
That’ll absolutely work. One hundred percent. Definitely come to me with all of your relationship needs because I don’t spend ages not asking for what I want and then overthinking everything. Not me.
alternate ending…
"Hey," he says, hitting me with his hip just enough that I almost overbalance and fall over, but he crooks his arm around me and catches me.
Of course he does.
"—the fuck, Nicholas?"
"You were in your fuckin’ brain again."
"Was not."
"Okay, sorry, lad, you weren’t in your brain. But even though you totally were—" at that he covers my mouth with his hand and keeps talking while I try to argue, because he’s just that much of a bellend. Then he pulls me against him, letting go of my mouth and hugging me against him. I can feel the muscles of his thighs against mine, because Nick rarely wears trousers (save joggers) if he can wear shorts. I wonder idly if I could draw a topographical map of his thigh muscles from memory, or if some art student would want to cast his thighs in plaster and do a study of Perfect Male Thighs of the World. I reach around and press my palms against exhibit 1: man in Leeds and press into his hard earned muscles so much that he moans against me.
Literally no one notices because everyone’s on the pull or coupled up already, and it’s not unusual to see any mix of two (or three, honestly) people snogging in corners and sofas, and doorways and corridors, so the middle of the kitchen is nothing unusual.
We stand in the quiet silence of ‘a bit more than friendship’ and I just breathe in all of Nick, the warmth of his chest seeping through his shirt until I can imagine him shirtless against me and me tonguing the amber hair that covers his chest.
Nick takes a deep, almost shuddering breath, but seems to collect himself and then gives a whine. "Charlie, I’m booooooooored. Entertain me. All these parties are all the saaaaaaame. Play with me."
I step out of his arms and look him right in the eye. I wink at him and grab his hand. I turn toward the lounge and give his hand a sharp tug. "C’mon, you big baby." I pull him behind me.
We go into the lounge but he flat out refuses to dance, which is part and parcel for Nick Nelson honestly. He always refuses at first, but nine times out of ten I’m able to convince him to come dance with me eventually. He perches in a chair and chats to people going by, winking at me in turns and drinking his beer absently.
Eventually, someone hands him another beer, I start really letting go, and then Nick just tunes into me as if I’m an episode of his favourite show, or a rugby match he’s been itching to see.
I watch him while I dance, and he gets so over the top flirty this time that I actually start to wonder. I mean, I know my plan was to tell him today, like maybe tonight after the party or if not, definitely on the drive to Sheffield. It’s one thing, the way he stares at me, looking me up and down, like I’m good enough to eat. But the way he curls his fingers and thumb in a circle and runs his tongue around it? My fucking god.
I hear Marie shriek somewhere behind me and I freeze up, cringing in anticipation. If that means that she and Lissa are here… They both seem to have a thing for Nick. I’ve got to get in the way, or something. My heart stutters so fast, not like I’ve been running, but like it’s double beating or I’ve somehow got two twin hearts inside my chest until they separate and continue on. Glancing behind me, I see Marie and make a split second decision.
I have to fucking go for it.
I really have no idea if Nick is interested in Marie or Lissa, but they’re both objectively beautiful. Whether he’d choose to hook up with them or not, I mean, Nick gets to have free will and make his own choices, but maybe I should grow a fucking pair and tell him how I feel.
He can always turn me down, or choose one of them, or whatever.
I dance over to him, and hold out my hand. He rolls his eyes at me, but then I hear someone behind me call out his name: "Nicholas!" I immediately tense. I feel the air stagnate and I know he can see it in my face. He looks into my eyes deliberately and holy shit, it’s like I see two of him for a moment, as if he’s somehow glancing into the future at two different paths of this moment and then he blinks. When he looks at me, I’m reminded that the dark amber of his eyes is one of the best colours on the fucking planet.
A slow smile spreads across his face, the smile I first saw two years ago, but didn’t realise I loved fully until now. He reaches across the doubled distance and grasps my hand with his roughened, warm skin and I feel Nick-tricity shiver up my arm and shock my heart back into this timeline’s rhythm.
I love him.
I have to tell him.
If he doesn’t love me back, well that’s okay.
Either he’ll let me down gently, and we’ll still be best friends. Or something else.
But we can fucking handle it. I know it.
I pull him onto the makeshift dance floor and he presses up against me, hard.
"You like me or something, Nicholas?" I ask, my mouth right at the edge of his jaw.
"You fucking know it," he says, his voice gravelly and rough.
He reaches around me, tangling his fingers into my hair and holding my lower back, just above where the hem of my shirt is. We move and grind together and he lets me grab his arse, the full tight muscle that I would happily map with my tongue. He grunts and his body is almost liquid against me. I forget how warm Nick is, how dancing with me turns him into jelly, and how pliant and afire he gets.
"God, Charlie," he says against my temple and I suddenly have a clear sense of how to start this conversation. Yeah, maybe I thought the limerick was stupid, but… we’re both stupid. And I’m definitely stupid for him.
"Wanna hear something stupid?"
"Always."
"I made up a limerick for you."
"Is it dirty?"
"I mean, yeah. But also… it’s honest?"
"Spill it, Charles."
"I’m totally into your bod
You are really way cooler than God
So, pull out your dick
do it right quick
I want to be speared by your rod."
"Oooh, nice one," Nick says. "Wanna do all that tonight? I know a place nearby where we can fuck." He glances toward the door to his bedroom and leers at me.
I grin at him, because he’s nothing if not predictable. And he… didn't run away. So maybe I can do one better.
"Do you make those up on the spot?" Nick asks me. "I don’t think I’m good at arty type stuff like that. I’d never be able to do that."
"Says the man who taught himself how to crochet so he could make me a blanket when I wouldn’t let him buy me one."
"You figured that out?" Nick seems absolutely indignant. "How did you know?"
"You dickhead," I tell him. "Why would you think that if I wouldn’t let you buy me a blanket I’d somehow accept one that you made yourself? You were looking for a loophole."
"Yeah, well I found one. I found that loophole fair and square."
"Yeah, I guess," I say slowly. "I mean, you do really like any… holes you can find, right? You are bisexual after all."
"Oi!"
I pull him more fully against me and decide to just fucking go for it.
"How about you forget about all those other holes and focus on mine?"
"Yeah, of course," he says easily. Then I see him freeze a bit and step back.
"Charlie?" he says with a question in his voice. "Are you... I mean— do you, um... what are you saying?"
And yeah, I can absolutely make things up on the spot when I’m fucking inspired, so I just go for it. I pull him back against me, hot and hard and if we were in my room and naked it would be his hairy chest against mine, and our stomachs would touch the way they do, and shivers would run through me because it would be just the two of us. The way it should always be.
"You make me emotionally smart
and fill every valve of my heart
every word here is true
I deeply love you
and I have been yours from the start."
He pauses and his eyes widen and he lets out the quietest breath. "Say that again."
So I do,
"You make me emotionally smart
and fill every valve of my heart
every word here is true
I deeply love you
and I have been yours from the start."
"Do you mean that?"
"Every word," I breathe.
Nick steps back from me, just a bit. He holds my shoulders and looks searchingly into my face. "You… love me? Really? Like really actually love… me?"
If I didn’t know Nick so well, I’d start to get worried that he was trying to find a way to let me down easy, that he didn't feel the same way, but I know him. I know that his brain is skipping over everything that I’ve just said and confirming it so he can actually hold it as a truth. But also… even if he doesn’t love me, I would be okay. I’m strong. Nick is the best friend I’ve ever had, and even if we’re not together, I want him in my life.
So I step forward and promise him with my eyes. "I really, actually love you," I tell him. "I have done for so long."
"Oh my god, Charlie," he says, stepping closer and holding my face with his hands in the middle of a fucking uni party dance mess in his flat. "I love you, too. I love you so much."
He leans down and kisses me so tenderly. The frenzied activity around us is held back by some sort of love forcefield and we’re in our own romantic fucking bubble. Or maybe we’re a Picture in Picture of two different movie genres on the screen at the same time to appease a group of friends that can’t agree on what to watch. And while my brain keeps thinking shit like that, I let it sizzle on the back burner and suck Nick’s tongue instead. He moves one of his hands down to the damp skin of my lower back; my shirt must’ve ridden up and I’ve got both arms around him, holding him against me.
We kiss and kiss and my brain shuts off fully because why have thoughts when I can have Nick? The way he kisses me is everything. He pours every ounce of feeling into my skin through my lips, writing messages to me with his tongue. I pour it all back, every beautiful word seeps out of me into him and it’s good and right and ours.
"Jesus, fuck, Nelson," I hear and we break away from each other blearily.
Nick doesn’t take his eyes away from mine, though; his lower lip hangs low as he blinks at me with lust-lidded eyes. He looks so thoroughly debauched by just a kiss. My god.
"Get a bloody room," someone else says.
I glance over toward Nick’s bedroom, because well, he has one. And it’s right there.
He grins at me, squats briefly and lifts me up enough so that he can throw me over his shoulder. I nearly choke on my giggles as I playfully pound at his luscious arse, but honestly, I’m not actually going to protest too much. The view from here is just… fucking magic.
As soon as Nick shuts the door, every other sound whooshes out of my ears. He connects his phone to his speaker and puts on some music. I glance over and see the playlist is called love after hours — all in lowercase — and I snicker at him, because come on. But he shrugs and pulls his shirt over his head and yeah, point taken, because I’m not fucking laughing anymore.
"C’mere," he says, his voice low.
I go.
He wraps his arms around me, just holding me, breathing in my hair and how in the ever loving fuck did we get from best mates to declaring our love all because I finally said fuck it and made up a dirty limerick? I breathe in the sweat-scent of him, rub my cheek against his warm chest and try to remind myself that this is actually real.
We sway to the music, and then Nick tilts up my chin. We look at each other for a long, delicious minute, then crash together hungrily, lips and tongues and my god, his body is always so familiar but it’s never enough. He nips his way down my neck, sucking my earlobe deeply into his mouth, which drives me fucking crazy, the combination of lips and wet and stubble and the knowledge that it’s Nick, Nick, Nick.
"God, you feel so good," I whisper into his hair and then he’s sliding his hands along my waistband, thumbing just under the hem of my shirt, sliding his fingers against the hair under my navel again and again.
"Wanna see you, Charlie," he says. "Can I take this off?"
"Clothes are stupid, I have no idea why we’re wearing anything at all when you look like that," I gesture at the whole Nickness of him.
He grins, gently pulls off my shirt, and thumbs the button of my jeans. I slide them off, then push him so he’s at the edge of his bed and motion for Nick to slide his off, too. He pulls off his boxers and jeans in one go and fuck me, he is so beautiful. He sits, legs apart and I knee walk in and sit back on my heels.
"Why don’t you lean back against your pillows and look pretty for me?"
That tinge of pink on Nick’s cheeks is the only telltale sign that he’s such a simp for praise. He moves without argument and I just watch him. I pull off my own boxers and he watches me hungrily.
"Open your legs," I tell him, and he does: naked and spread out, all for me. I look over all of him, glowing in his fairy lights, auburn hair and freckles and muscles and skin. He’s sex on toast, or some metaphor that’s a bit better than that, but excuse me if most of the blood in my body has settled somewhere else. I want to take my time with him, explore every inch. Lightly, I trace the arch of his foot and then slide over his ankle. I kiss the calf muscle and then nuzzle the inside of his knee. I press dry lips to his inner thigh and hear Nick gasp quietly. Keeping one hand exactly where I’ve just kissed him, I move to the other leg and follow the exact same path.
"God, Charlie." Nick curls his toes against the sensation and I see him tightening his muscles and rising slightly to meet me, but if anything, I slow down. When I finally get to the inside of his knee, I glance up and see Nick’s eyes lidded and hungry. He is fucking stunning.
"You good?" I ask him honestly. "Can I keep on exploring, or do you need more?"
"I’m good," he says. "So good. Just watching you, I swear. You make me feel so good."
I kneel up and press my forehead against his, rubbing my nose against his before kissing his full lips. "Bend your knees for me, love," I whisper against his lips. "Wanna see all of you."
As he does, I slide back down, and push his ankles back. His knees fall open and god, I can see all of him. His cock hard and leaking against his stomach, the muscles of his thick thighs and his furred balls and taint. Men’s bodies are so fucking glorious and Nick’s is seriously one worth studying for centuries.
"God, you’re beautiful," I tell him honestly as I kiss and nip and lick his inner thighs. "Every inch of you."
I thumb along the inner muscle and find my favourite spot, the inner junction of Nick’s thighs, where his thighs fold into his buttocks, where the hair lightens and shortens and then widens again into the dark auburn hair surrounding his cock. I love that I know where he’s trimmed and where he just lets it all grow. I love that I can rub my cheek against his inner thigh and hear him grunt in arousal above me. I suck on my middle finger, getting it wet, and then I lean down and press the very tip of my tongue against Nick’s tight hole. He shudders against me and his legs fall further open.
"God I want you, please, Charlie, can’t wait, I need— I mean, my god, I want you so bad."
And the sheer babble of it flows through me, so that I’m kneeling up and he’s reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, handing me lube and a condom.
"Open me up, please," he gasps, arching against my fingers, but then he seems to change his mind, because he surges up to kiss me, licking and nipping and sucking my tongue as I press into him with my fingers, widening and scissoring as he gasps against me, telling me how much he wants me, that he loves me, that it’s always been me. I breathe promises into him, telling him that I love this, love him, that he’s the best thing in my life and all I want is him.
Then he’s lying back, telling me he’s ready, and I roll on the condom, slick myself up and slide slowly into him and as soon as I feel his body ease, everything speeds up and we arch and moan and move with each other, sliding and moaning as our bodies slap together.
I just— oh god, Nick is—
and we… I mean, everything is—
He shouts my name as he comes, tightening around me as he paints beautiful white lines on his stomach and I explode over the edge, my vision blurring into starbursts of flickering colours.
Eventually, our breathing slows and Nick grabs a packet of wipes. We clean each other up, I pull off and tie up the condom, tossing it into the bin, and pulling Nick’s duvet over both of us.
"That was amazing," he says, rolling me over, so he’s resting on my chest, his mouth right near my nipple. "Guess you should tell me sexy limericks more often."
"Tomorrow I’ll start a poetry collection. Chapter 1: love limericks. Chapter 2: body parts."
"What about dick limericks?"
"About your dick, or dicks in general?"
"Duh, mine. I think it deserves an entire chapter to itself."
"Yours gets a chapter all to itself, obviously."
"Obviously. It’s a fantastic dick. Deserves plenty of its own limericks. Limer-dicks!"
With that, I roll my eyes and cover his mouth with my hand like he did to me earlier. Then I roll him over, kiss him, and proceed to distract him so he never mentions limer-dicks again.