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"And… you have me…"
It's true, Charlie will always have Nick, body and soul, as long as he wants him in his life.
And Charlie can't wait any longer. He grabs his boyfriend's t-shirt with one hand and pulls him closer, and the atmosphere in the bedroom shifts from confessional to intoxicating. Charlie can feel the tension between them as their lips are only an inch apart. But this feels different from usual, and after that confession he's just made about wanting to have sex with Nick (dear God, does he want to), this is the point of no return. They can never repeat this, the first time. And it's something Charlie knows, whatever the future holds for them, that he will remember forever. Marked on his soul.
But then he remembers as well that he and Nick are in this together.
"Nick… Please"
Yes. Yes, he does want to mark this together, no question.
They begin with a kiss. It feels both familiar and unfamiliar because, although they are used to this, something has also changed. Prior to that confession, kissing was the outer edge of their limits. Perhaps they would explore beyond lips, moving over cheeks, down the other's jaw, and along their throats, tracing the jugulars and their Adam's apples. Undoing the top button or two on those white polyester shirts, pulling down the knots on those school ties with their two-tone blues until they were too tight to move. Nick, shedding his blanket, and Charlie, his jumper. Before this moment, there was limited access to skin, in a way though that felt safe, not constricting.
But now it's changed. Completely. Charlie wants, no needs, more.
And then, before he realises it, Charlie is straddling Nick's waist. It's closer—closer than they've ever been before. Normally, he's at least half of Nick's thigh length away from him. Now, he's sitting directly on top of him, full contact, with no gaps to delineate the boundaries between their bodies. And that other body is Nick. Somehow, they're still kissing—kissing as if oxygen itself depended on it. And the grinding, one set of hips atop another—it's new, and Charlie really, really enjoys it. He's half expecting Nick to stop them, say it's too much, too overwhelming, but instead he can feel the outline of Nick's cock rubbing against his own. Sparks seem to fly around them—yellow, gold, orange—and an electric charge fills this bubble of just the two of them.
He recalls that evening last June in the park when the setting sun bathed his boyfriend in a beautiful glow, as if he were a Greek god sent down from Mount Olympus by Zeus himself. The makeout session they shared on the blanket Nick brought? One of his favourites, even if Nellie kept trying to nudge them and was annoyed that they seemed to ignore her for too long.
This moment, however, is swiftly going up the ranks of 'All Time Best Makeout Sessions with Nicholas Luke Nelson', maybe like one of those core memories they mentioned in Inside Out; he was watching with Olly last week. He knows it's easily in the top three of their moments together so far. It's those flickers of flame around them, heating up the small space between them. The unusually warm May evening feels strangely cool on his back; it's a contrast Charlie never wants to get used to.
He's snapped out of his thoughts by Nick pulling back, a look of concern and worry on his face: "You came over all upset, and now I've made it all about me."
Oh Nick.
Charlie can't help but squish Nick's face in affection.
"Don't be silly." It's true. As soon as he'd laid eyes on his boyfriend, Charlie knew this was where he was meant to be. Wherever Nicholas Nelson is, Charlie Spring's true home is.
"But…"
"Nick… Please just kiss me." Charlie just wants the world to pause here with Nick, to ignore everything else—GCSEs, that persistent food noise in the back of his mind that never truly goes away, no matter how much therapy he has or how much medication is prescribed to him, and his mum and her worries about him having been 'ill', whatever the fuck that means. Is she going to hang it over his head forever? He just wants to live a normal life for once. Be a normal teenager, having some very natural thoughts about his very hot boyfriend.
This is so different from how they've done it in the past year or so; it's closer now, their hips connecting in a way they usually don’t. Now, this reminds Charlie of Paris, of that night when they had the room entirely to themselves. But this time, Nick isn't just sitting there frozen while Charlie leads. He's actively participating, leaning in, grabbing Charlie's striped t-shirt under his cardigan. Then he can feel fingertips at the base of his spine, and a whole new wave of fizzles, pops, and sparkles begins flying around them, between them, once again.
He shifts, just a little, in Nick's lap. Then Charlie pulls back, thoughts flooding in. Fantasies with a charged potential to become real.
Is it going to happen this evening? Is now the moment? Is it right for them to do this spontaneously?
Maybe, they can try going further… whatever… whatever that looks like.
There's one thing he needs to check first.
"Is- is your mum home?"
"No."
That's all the answer Charlie needs.
He pulls his cardigan over his head, and it drops on the floor with a 'flop'.
A quiet "Oh" escapes Nick's lips, so soft that Charlie isn't sure whether he heard it or not. Of course, he's worn only a t-shirt in front of Nick before, though that callous voice says 'not since you gave yourself those lines'. But this… it feels different, with all the energy orbiting this room.
"Umm… do you want to… keep going… we- we don't have to…" He doesn't want Nick to feel uncomfortable or to have a repeat of Paris. Was there a part of him that night that might have been willing to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, curious to know, see, feel, and do what he could to make them both feel good? Yeah, but the last thing he wanted was to push Nick before he was ready. It's mostly been himself who has pushed the boundaries of their make-out sessions. Nick was scared for so many months after the so-called 'hickey incident'.
"Char, I've been thinking about it all the time." Okay, there is Charlie's answer, the reassurance from Nick he needs.
"Pfftt," Charlie still can't believe it, but he has to confess "me too" as well.
An affectionate Nick-laugh escapes his boyfriend, and then Charlie shuts his eyes as he's being kissed by the man he thinks is the most beautiful in the world. First it's his lips, then his neck, and before he knows it, Nick is rolling them over. Charlie’s unable to contain his giggling.
"Want mine off?" Nick is motioning to the hem of his t-shirt, hands at the ready to pull it over his head.
"Yes, of course." As long as Nick is willing, Charlie is always eager to see his boyfriend shirtless. He recalls the photo Nick sent from the pool last summer, hair damp with water and chlorine, loose board shorts, and his glistening, pale, slightly freckled chest in the Spanish sunshine. As his boyfriend pulls his t-shirt over his head, Charlie can't help but admire that chest, those arms, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun.
Before he realises it, Charlie's being pushed back into the bed. Hands are on hands, palms, their lifelines, fate, and most of all, heart lines connecting and mirroring one another.
At some point, Nick's laptop falls off the bed with a slight 'thud', but both are too wrapped up in each other to care.
Charlie knows this is all elbows, knees. It's unrefined and awkward, but it's absolutely perfect.
They are tangled together. And now Nick is shirtless, but Charlie remains in his shirt, and they're both still wearing their shorts. Nick hovers over the button, his fingers just an inch from that little brass one, checks in with him, and then, after a brief nod, unfastens the button with one hand while leaning over Charlie, balanced on the other, his lips all over Charlie's face and neck. Charlie helps him push them down, kicking them off as they reach his ankles. Next, it's Nick's turn. He tries to pull his jogging shorts down by himself, but Charlie whispers, "Let me help, Nick," into his ear. They both manage to remove them from Nick's body, and Nick, using his toes, pushes off his socks at the same time.
It's kinda awkward, but aren't all first times like that? How do other people manage it? How do those movies and television shows make it look so easy, so suave?
They are now lying body to body, clothes pushed to the bottom of the bed, only thin layers of cotton damp with sweat from the almost-summer heat and what is happening between them. Charlie looks up and down Nick's body, dressed only in his boxers. He's not sure what he expected, only that now he has permission to look as much as he wants. Whenever he's fantasised about Nick, it's either been entirely clothed or completely unclothed, and it's not as if he could check his boyfriend's underwear choices while they were in a changing room with a dozen other rugby lads. They seem comfortable with Nick and Charlie kissing on the pitch, but Charlie doesn't want to test where the line is when he and Nick are semi-naked in front of the whole team of, as far as they know, very straight rugby lads.
But now he notices those tight midnight blue boxers he's wearing, the kind with little buttons at the front. As he takes in those buttons at the front of those boxers, he sees it—Nick's cock. It's more prominent than it's ever been with those other layers he normally wears, a result of the tight material and their shared sweat. It’s trying to peak out, its silhouette more curved than Charlie thought it might be. Thicker too, though its length appears similar to Charlie's, perhaps slightly shorter. Charlie then realises he's been staring, but Nick is also looking at him in his own, somewhat looser,striped boxers. Had he known this might happen, he would have changed into a pair without a frayed hole in the crotch, but he suspects Nick wouldn't mind.
Hopefully, Nick also won't mind him keeping his shirt on. He's not prepared for this, but Charlie knows he himself wants to be able to give this to his boyfriend. Desires it. Craves it, even. However, even now, Charlie still has limits imposed by that nagging voice in the back of his head, and having those marks, those scars, on display for Nick to see. He'll keep it on for now, but… Maybe next time? If there is a next time, and if Charlie's not completely god-awful, he'll be able to take it off then. He knows Nick wouldn't judge him; this room is one of the safest spaces he knows, but even so, it's still one step too far into the unknown for him.
Charlie is the first to break the silence. "Errmmm… what do you… I mean, I'm happy to stay like this if you want… or we could… I dunno, I've never done this before."
Very smooth there, Charles; way to state the bleeding obvious.
"How about hands, Char?"
Hands. Hands are good. Nick’s especially. Nick's hands are safe. They're broad, with rough patches from hours of playing rugby outside in freezing winters.
"What, on ourselves?" As soon as he voices it, Charlie regrets the tameness of his suggestion. He realises, though, why he's holding back.
Because Charlie blushes at the thought of Nick's hand wrapped around his cock. Has he thought about it before? God, yes. Far too many times beneath his duvet. Does he want that? Without question. But will he also cum as soon as Nick wraps one of those hands around him? Probably. Would the mattress know to swallow him whole at that point? Almost certainly not.
But, Charlie thinks, they can get through this together. Even if it is a painful, ecstatic, awkward mess.
"Um, I was actually thinking, Char, about using our hands on each other, but if you wanted to keep it separate, that would be totally…" Nick sounds so, so nervous, yet so excited at the same time.
"No, on each other is good. I… I like that thought." He's so glad Nick is braver than he is at this moment in time.
Even though Charlie has agreed to the idea, his boyfriend still looks nervous. "I'm afraid I don't have anything. Lube, I mean. I have some lotion in the drawer if you would like, but I've never got around to… sorry."
"No… it's… It's okay. And the s-word rule applies even to this, Nick." He pokes him gently on his shoulder to underline his point.
"Are you sure that's okay, Char? I know… I mean… We could… I mean, I could… well, I think my hand is big enough to wrap around both of us if you want…?" Nick leaves the sentence unfinished. Maybe he wants the mattress to swallow him whole as well. Does it have room for both of them?
What's more, should Charlie offer to do it?
"Or Nick, perhaps I could?" Is he just letting Nick take the lead on this?
"But Char, that doesn't make any sense, my hands are big…"
"What are you saying, Nick?"
"Just… it makes more sense for me to… Since you know…" Nick puts his hand up, stretching out his thumb and little finger to their longest length.
God, why are they…
"We're never going to get anywhere if we keep arguing about who is going to hold our dicks and wank to get us off, Nicholas." The absurdity of using his boyfriend's birth name, as he does to emphasise his point, works as Charlie intends: it diffuses the tension between them as they both smile at each other.
Nick is the first to blush, and then Charlie feels himself heat up. Even with the tense atmosphere, he can barely meet Nick's gaze. He suddenly becomes terribly interested in staring intently at the buttons on Nick's boxers.
Will talking about sex ever stop being so damn awkward? The (albeit very limited) porn Charlie has watched from an incognito browser under his duvet late at night, while the rest of his household is dead asleep, shows the people involved making it look so easy, moving from one position to the next almost as if they can read each other's minds. He knows this is because they talk about it beforehand, but do they find it difficult? Or is it just a matter of getting used to it through practice? Is everyone's first time like this, an awkward, stilted conversation based on the hope that it will help the people involved make it good for themselves and each other?
"Charlie?" Apparently, he managed to completely zone out. "So your hand on mine and mine on yours, it is then?"
"Yeah." One hand on each other, that is simple enough, right? Not too much?
"Okay." Charlie feels the air puff against his skin rather than hearing the word as Nick utters it.
"Sure?" Apparently, they are now destined to speak only in monosyllabic words, even when he needs to check that his boyfriend is okay.
He would say his first boyfriend, but Charlie knows in his bones, his heart, his soul, that this is forever.
Charlie feels like he can meet his boyfriend's eyes again.
''Right, Char." Nick looks one part like a rabbit in the headlights again, the other part determined and eager for what's about to happen.
"So, boxers off or on?" Charlie anxiously licks his lower lip. Would keeping them on make it easier, or would it be too restrictive? If they keep them on, he'd probably miss out on finding out exactly what his boyfriend's cock looks like… which would be a shame.
"If you want to do off, I can do that." Nick takes a breath and quickly adds, "but only if you're comfortable doing that."
“Yeah… yeah… I'd like that," but he feels maybe that's too exposing? "Can we keep the duvet on, though?" The late-May evening is beginning to show the first signs of slipping into summer, a warm breeze flowing through Nick's bedroom window. Between that and one of Nick's roles as a permanent hot water bottle in Charlie's life, he probably can't use the excuse that he's feeling cold.
"'course, Char," Nick is stroking his cheek and staring at him as if Charlie is the most precious thing.
And then Nick pulls him in for another kiss, as if reminding him, or maybe both of them, that there is no rush; they can take it slow. It's nearly dreamlike. The hands on each of them. Half-naked legs intertwined, Nick's left thumb at Charlie's right hip, Charlie's hands clasped at Nick's bare back, getting a little sweaty under the covers. That slow, languid pace, however, doesn't last for long. There's too much energy between them.
Their hips are connecting again, and it's new and thrilling in the best possible way. Those two thin layers of fabric provide the most delicious friction Charlie's ever felt. He's fully hard now because he's thought about this forever, dreamt about it; used it as inspiration when late at night, when he's got himself off and splattered his chest with cum at the thought of Nick taking him in hand, imagining those calloused fingers around his hardened cock.
Charlie wonders, has Nick done the same, too?
Why have we waited for this for so long? What were we so scared of?
He concentrates on this moment, being with Nick here in his arms. Too often, he's fixated on the past, the would've, could've, should'ves; or the future with its vast uncertainties of growing older, becoming adults, being apart from one another. Even if Nick is focused on Kent, Charlie has no idea where he will end up. Could be Cambridge. Durham. London. Anywhere.
But that doesn't matter in this here and now.
His boyfriend pulls back, "Can I, Char?" Nick has one of his thick thumbs at the top of Charlie's boxers, looped around the elastic, right at the top of his arse.
It's becoming really, really real now.
"Please, just… can I?" Charlie is getting desperate as he pulls at Nick's own boxers.
Then everything seems to happen at once.
Nick tugs at Charlie's underwear, and Charlie tries to shift his hips to help Nick get them off. At the same time, he's trying to pull down Nick's own underwear. It ends up being all knees and elbows, hands everywhere, and "sorries" and "no sorries, just…" from both of them.
Finally, under that striped cotton duvet, they've managed to both successfully become for the most part, rid of their clothes. Charlie with only his t-shirt on. Nick naked. Charlie pulls himself back a little, and Nick does the same, and they each take in each other's bodies.
He's seeing Nick Nelson completely naked for the first time.
The first thing that strikes Charlie is how far Nick's freckles extend down his body. It's a light scattering, but they are there all the same. He's obviously seen Nick's chest before; heck, he's touched his back, rubbing in that damn suncream last summer on the Squad's trip to the beach, just before everything turned really bad. He recalls how those muscles felt beneath his fingertips, so firm. Would the front of Nick's chest feel the same?
His eyes then drift to the trail of hair below Nick's belly button, over that soft, slightly squishy stomach of his. It's a deep auburn, and rather than it being very inconveniently cut off by a pair of swimming shorts, he now gets to see it, uninterrupted, as it descends further, ending around Nick's cock and balls.
And oh, Nick's cock. He's often wondered what it would be like. Would it be longer or thicker than his own? Would it match the creamy colour of the rest of his skin? It turns out, now that it's free from the confines of a pair of boxers, Nick's cock is wider than Charlie’s, though roughly the same length. Perhaps Charlie’s is longer, or maybe Nick's is; he can't really be sure in this dim light from the bedroom lamp and the shadows cast by the duvet over them, the sun out of the window casts its oranges over the horizon as an inky blue hue takes over the sky.
If this goes well, there will just need to be a repeat performance sans duvet, and he can study this further. Charlie can be brave, maybe. Use his eyes, his hands, maybe his mouth, to study Nick's dick up close.
When he can finally meet Nick's eyes with that honey brown ring and those deep black pupils, he notices how wide-eyed he is, as if he can't believe Charlie is real.
They need not say anything to each other. Nick reaches out, or perhaps it's Charlie himself; he's not quite certain, but they're kissing, kissing, and still kissing. Once more, it's imperfect. Usually, their exchanges are controlled and considerate, keeping something back from one another, but now? There's only a desperate need. A longing to taste. To feel. To touch. To know the other as if they were themselves.
Too soon, they are making their first moves on each other's cocks, grasping at one another. He'll have to compare notes with Nick later, but this is so familiar in the way the skin feels—so soft, yet also unknown, his veins in different places. Charlie can feel under the pad of his thumb that Nick has one prominent vein that runs diagonally up the underside of his cock, whereas Charlie himself has several finer veins.
Perhaps Nick will let him explore that vein and all the ridges and grooves of that most intimate part of his body. With his tongue, if Charlie’s lucky. And if he is truly fortunate and plays his cards right, Nick will want to do the same. But who is he kidding? Nicholas Nelson, known as the simp of their friend group, will do anything for Charlie Spring.
It still feels quite different. Not in a bad way, just different. Maybe it's the angle because it's new? They both have to reach across, rather than just reaching down, as they do when they pleasure themselves. This is a completely different game, and trying to do his usual wrist action, not to mention working out if this is doing it for Nick, is at least distracting Charlie enough to prevent his own orgasm coming too quickly. Who knew there were benefits to overthinking?
There's also the absence of any lubricant. He suddenly notices his cock is becoming stickier due to the pre-cum—tacky and unpleasant—and it's at risk of becoming too sensitive. The bedside table drawer with the lotion mentioned earlier is too far for Charlie; it might as well be on the other side of the country for all he cares. So, he's going to have to do what he usually does.
He takes his own hand off Nick and grabs him by the wrist; his boyfriend looks shocked for a second, but when Charlie licks Nick’s palm, deliciously salty mixed in with tastes of himself, a flash of understanding crosses his face. Charlie lifts his tongue from the moistened palm, releases his boyfriend's wrist and then simply spits on his own palm, rubbing his fingers over the flesh and spit. Then, Charlie reaches back out in the darkness under the duvet to grab Nick's cock.
He has to fumble around slightly, and so does Nick; they're both getting sweaty beneath the duvet, and there is an unfamiliar scent assaulting him and overwhelming him.
Is this what sex smells like?
Actually, no, it's all overwhelming like this. Almost too much, and yet, not enough at the same time.
"Fuck Char." Nick draws Charlie towards him, takes his hand off Charlie's dick for a second to manhandle his boyfriend, and Charlie mirrors him. For a brief moment, he worries that Nick is having second thoughts until he feels both of Nick's large hands around his waist, at his hip bone, thumbs and forefingers around part of his skin. God, he loves his boyfriend's arms, his hands, how they flex as they push him, pull him, get him settled on Nick's thighs—something he cannot get enough of. He thinks of Nick, sweaty on that rugby pitch, even in that freezing November weather, face red, sweat dripping as he barrels down the pitch, ball cradled to his chest and flexing those thigh muscles as he runs.
The duvet slides down slightly to the small of his back; so much for keeping everything hidden. He looks down and confirms that his earlier assessment of Nick's cock was accurate, but in this dim light, he can see that it is more curved than he initially thought. That's not a bad thing, is it? He'll need to do some more research of his own when he gets home tonight.
They both take each other in hand again; this feels much less awkward than fumbling in the dark. The sun has now fully set, stars twinkle in that clear sky, and Nick's room is only lit by that single bedside lamp, making the shadows even more prominent than before, but that doesn't make the boy below Charlie any less beautiful, he thinks.
Charlie's nervous; he's not sure what Nick will think. He slows down, and Nick mirrors his actions. He has an idea, something that he's done before and really, really enjoyed, but he's not sure what Nick will think of it. Will he think Charlie is being too much? They've never spoken about this sort of thing, never compared notes, until now.
"Do you mind if I touch myself, like, elsewhere?"
"No, go ahead. I wanna know, Char. All of it." Because, of course, Nick would be like that, wanting to know what he can do for Charlie to make this good for him.
Charlie thinks about how he masturbates at home, under the covers, late at night when he's halfway between consciousness and dreams, legs bent up in a 'V' shape to give him better access to his prize. But in the here and now, he has the most glorious visuals before him. It turns out in real life, Nick is a thousand times better than the fantasy Nick from under Charlie's duvet. Those conditioned arms he can't stop looking at, that chest and soft tummy he's only had rare glimpses of in person before, like at the beach that day or in the changing rooms, he can now stare at as much as he wants. Then there are the parts that he hasn't seen before tonight, like that full, happy trail down to that delicious, hard cock.
He wants so desperately to lick it; does Nick's precum taste the same as his own? Charlie's tasted his own before and didn't hate it, but wonders when it's not your own, does it taste better? Hotter? And what's it really like to have someone's cock in your mouth? A million other thoughts and questions flood Charlie's mind right now. But one thing at a time—he doesn't want to overwhelm or scare Nick; they don't need to do everything today. Still, his teenage brain burns with the need to do everything as soon as humanly possible.
But Charlie, being Charlie, needs to check again. Make absolutely sure. "Really, would it help… would you like to know then how I touch myself?" Charlie's slightly unsure of himself. Again, is this too much to ask of Nick during their first time? (God, why did they wait this long? They could have been over this awkward stage by now.)
However, from the look on Nick's face, Charlie thinks he may have finally short-circuited Nick Nelson's brain.
It has the actual effect of slowing down his boyfriend's hand to a complete stop. He feels the solid grasp around his shaft still under those warm fingers, weathered by spending many long hours out in the wind and rain holding a rugby ball.
"Yeah, of course, whatever you want, Char. As I said, I wanna know it all. All of you, like this. Just… please…"
Is this what begging is like?
Something cracks within Charlie, only to have him push it down.
Best examine that later.
Nick releases his hand from around Charlie's cock, and he immediately mourns the loss of his boyfriend's contact. But slowly, he takes his own right hand to his shaft and places the fingertips of his left on his taint. He's also lamenting the lack of lube at the moment (he resolves to put some in his bag so he's ready for the next time), so he again wets his right hand with his tongue, this time licking it across the palm and up the fingers.
He encircles his cock with his fingers and places his thumb on the tip. He gives it a slight pump, and it becomes fully engorged again. Nick is staring at this display, mouth slightly open as if it's some sort of revelation. Maybe it's a good idea, then Charlie didn't have his lube with him (he's not teasing his hole, even with one finger to the first joint without it).
He hopes Nick won't find this embarrassing. Heck, he's on the verge of it himself and probably blushing like there is no tomorrow. He doesn't want Nick to feel like he is putting on some sort of show for him. So he pushes that all down and just thinks back to his bedroom and his own cotton sheets, eyes hooded. Charlie is there, by himself, thinking of his boyfriend as he takes his fully hard cock in hand, teasing himself along his underside, massaging the fingers there.
Except he is here in Nick's bedroom, with the person he loves most in the world below him. He opens his eyes and concentrates on this image, this beautiful boy below him. Charlie squashes down any doubts he has and takes things slow and deliberate, so he can be as clear as possible with Nick what he enjoys, and also so that he can draw this out as long as possible. He doesn't want this to end.
As Charlie massages himself, he works his cock over. While performing an up-and-down motion with his hand, he applies pressure on and off with his fingers, so it's not consistent, which keeps it interesting. The warm glow in him builds, that bubbling tension. He applies small circles to his taint towards the back of his body, looking to apply pressure to that bundle of nerves.
Regardless of the lack of lubricant, he hasn't yet worked his way up to touching his hole with his fingers, let alone anything else (he might die if he had to make that sort of purchase). But this suffices for now as he discovers, through that firm pressure, the nub of his prize. It feels good, the fizzing pulses he experiences from this charge running straight through him. He wonders what direct pressure would feel like.
"Can you take over… my cock? I can…" He's breathing deeper now, more focused, concentrating on that taut elastic band feeling in his stomach.
Nick, it turns out, is a quick study. As Charlie removes his hand from his shaft, Nick replaces it with his own and begins to mimic the movements just demonstrated. It only takes him a few seconds to bring Charlie back to that same place of need.
Charlie leans forward and places his palm over Nick's, interlocking their fingers together, one over the other, on the pillow. He leans forward, getting better access to that sweet spot, kneading it as he did before. The tension now becomes unbearable between Nick's strokes of his cock and his own massage of his taint.
After that pressure that's been building, it feels like it's almost going to be over too quickly, "Nick… I'm about to… can I?" It's not as if he has much choice but to paint his boyfriend's chest with his cum, but he's suddenly anxious about it, and, damnit, they should have talked about this before starting.
Why is sex so, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking complicated?
"Yeah," Nick sounds breathy, and Charlie almost misses it. "Please."
That's all the permission Charlie needs as his body releases that tension like never before. Nothing he's done under his own covers at night compares to this. It seems to go on forever, yet all at once, as he spills over onto precious, precious Nick, defiling him in a way he never has before and never dared to, not even in his wildest fantasies. It feels as if he's corrupting this beautiful man below him, but now that this side of them has been unleashed, there is no way Charlie will let them return to how it was before. Not now that he knows what that forbidden fruit tastes like.
Panting, Charlie releases Nick's hand as he sits back up before he can collapse into a puddle of cum and boyfriend.
He looks down at Nick's chest as he manoeuvres his way off his boyfriend. It's splattered, in his creamy-white spunk, his handiwork. Like a lurid version of one of those Jackson Pollock paintings they had to observe in Year 9 Art. Which, to Charlie, makes sense; after all, Nick is his work of art.
"Talk to me, please, Char." Nick is looking desperate, and Charlie is left wondering if blue balls actually turn your balls blue. That's the advantage of being by yourself: you control the pace and can give in whenever that tension in your stomach becomes too much. He lasted longer than he expected; maybe that's the advantage in being halting and awkward? The pressure and stimulation are not consistent, and, more to the point, you keep stopping and starting because you are trying to work out what to do because oh god, is this more complicated than he thought it would be.
Charlie considers the request. "You mean like, dirty talk?" Okay, can his post-orgasm brain cope with that? That kind of request seems like playing this new game on hard mode.
"No," Nick is looking more worried, terrified, now than desperate. "Like, what I mean to you. And stuff."
"And stuff?" Charlie looks down at his boyfriend, red-faced and sweaty.
"Yeah. Do you…"
"… How could I ever mind Nick? I want to give you the world. I want to give you… well… everything."
Nick has that soppy smile back on his face again. "Really?"
"'course. Why wouldn't I?" Charlie can never not be amazed by how his boyfriend doesn't realise he is the most amazing creature in this universe. "Here, budge up."
They move again, only this time Charlie manhandles Nick to get back over him and sit on his thighs once more. Charlie lifts himself onto his knees, and Nick shifts back. They end up with Nick sitting up against his pillows, Charlie still seated on his thighs. His cum still drips down Nick's soft stomach. Charlie leans down, picks up the discarded T-shirt from the floor, and, bunching it in his hand, gently wipes Nick's stomach. He knows they'll need to change the sheets when all of this is over, but at least he can remove the worst of it. Nick deserves to be comfortable, not sticky.
"Thanks, Char." Charlie feels as Nick places his hand over his, and motions for Charlie to remove the t-shirt. He drops it back over the side of the bed and turns back to face his boyfriend and those honey-brown eyes of his; there's a nervousness behind them that wasn't there before.
"It's okay, Nick." He can see his boyfriend has softened a little below him. He still takes him in hand, not jerking, just holding his cock there. As he strokes the fine hairs on the back of Nick’s head, instead, he can feel him grow harder in his hand, under his long fingers.
"Kiss me, please."
Charlie is more than happy to give Nick what he requests. They’ve returned to those soft kisses from earlier, and as he locks lips with his boyfriend, he mutters, "Do you want me to jerk you off as I talk to you?"
"Yeah. Just don't stop talking."
"When has that ever been a problem?" They both giggle at Charlie's inability to prevent how he feels about something spilling out.
They return to kissing again, and Charlie loves to whisper those sweet nothings Nick craves. He tells him how hot he is, how much he does it for Charlie, but what seems to excite Nick the most is when Charlie, husky-voiced between kisses, says he's proud of him, how he loves when Nick does small things for him. He swears he gets a deeper blush from his boyfriend when he starts talking about what he could persuade Nick to do for him between the sheets, and how eager he is to explore all of this with him. He doesn't go into specifics (although, dear gods, Charlie has definitely thought about the specifics he'd like to explore with Nicholas Luke Nelson), keeping things vague to avoid overwhelming both of them, to be honest. Charlie is aware that thinking about sex in theory is very different from talking about it with Nick, let alone putting it into practice.
"Fuck, Char." Nick is gasping now, holding on to Charlie's left hand as Charlie focuses his right around Nick's shaft. He tries to concentrate on technique, rather than just raw power.
"Is this… do you want anything else?"
"Yeah, whatever, yeah, this is good. Give me what you want."
Charlie stores this fact in the back of his mind, although his gut tells him that this is one of those things Nick needs time and space to come to him about, not the other way around. Is he worried about asking for too much, that he'll annoy Charlie if he's too specific or perceptive, or maybe he's worried about offending Charlie?
Or is it something else?
"Just tell me, okay. Anything you want, Nick." He realises he's slowed down again, so he starts to pick up a little speed. He thinks about what he likes, and adds a rub of his thumb over the head of the delicious cock in front of him. He feels more confident than he did earlier when Nick was jerking him off as well, being able to fully focus on the pleasure of another. Nick licks his lips. That wasn't quite the reaction Charlie was expecting, so he adds a whisper into the shell of his boyfriend's ear, about how good he is, about how well he is doing. He's not sure where it comes from, what part of his subconscious has been hiding this all this time, but Nick moans, whispers Charlie's name, at the words that escape his tongue and cross his lips.
Now that Charlie is comfortable with the angle of the thumb rubbing over the head of Nick's cock, he adds in a twist to his pumping action at random intervals. Nick bites his bottom lip at this, his two front teeth making indents into his skin. Charlie speeds up, determined to get there. He thinks he could try something else, maybe on the nipples, maybe licking them or even pinching them. He knows from porn that some people like that, but he's unsure whether Nick would. Something to store away until next time, perhaps.
"Fuck, Nick. You look so good like this, below me. Just… the most perfect boyfriend.'' He kisses him on the forehead. ''I've thought about this for so long… I love you so, so much. Fuck, Nick, remember, you're everything to me.
Nick looks like he is on the verge of tears. "I'm coming, Char. Just… please." That last word sounds so raw, so vulnerable.
"Let go, Nick, I know you can." And with that, Charlie experiences something beautiful for the first time. Nick’s body stills with tension and then quakes as his hips buck forward into his boyfriend’s hand. The freckled cock erupts covering his hand, the top half of his t-shirt, his throat, and even the bottom of his jaw in Nick's spend.
They're both breathing deeply now, almost in disbelief at what has happened. Then Charlie captures Nick in a slow, languid kiss, with each taking turns to say things like "That was just… wow" and "I love you so much" as their lips meet.
Now it's Nick's turn to deliver the t-shirt to Charlie, gently dabbing it across his body as if he's some delicate being at risk of being wiped away. That's something people don't understand about Nick: how gentle and caring he can be with those he loves. And he's perfect.
However, no matter how perfect Nick is, they will just have to practice this together.
Afterwards, they giggle together. Charlie feels drunk on something—good drunk, not like the kind he was on his birthday, with that awkward confession to Nick as he sat on the kitchen counter. Maybe it's the dopamine and endorphins now flooding his bloodstream? But then Nick pulls him in, kissing his forehead.
Nick pulls back and breaks the silence. "This is not what I thought would happen today." He definitely sounds like this was the last thing he expected. Maybe Charlie turning up after an argument with his mum would have been fairly predictable, but getting a hand job as well? He doesn't enjoy it when he and his mum argue; he knows it makes Tori, but also Olly, feel like they have to walk on eggshells in their own house. But maybe he should just turn up at Nick's unannounced more often? Maybe he should have done this a long time ago?
Charlie sighs, "I can't believe we waited so long." He glances to the side to catch his boyfriend's eye and notices that look on his face, and he knows instinctively exactly what he is going to say. "Don't you dare say it… Nick!!"
He places his hand, although there is no real pressure behind it, over Nick’s mouth in a vain attempt to stop what he knows is going to come out of the doofuses’ mouth.
Nick tries to speak between Charlie's fingers, and has some success "Why are we like mmpphh… mmpphh.. Like this… mmpphh…"
They burst into giggles as Charlie withdraws his hand from Nick’s mouth, which then moves to Charlie’s head, resting on Nick’s chest. It feels firm and warm. Like home.
Giggling is replaced with peaceful silence as Charlie’s brain replays what just happened between them a hundred times. It's thrilling, exhilarating, but there are also those old doubts that plague the back of Charlie's mind, "You didn't mind… umm… I kept my shirt on?" He wasn’t being silly, was he? Is he even ready for sex if he can’t do something as simple as take his t-shirt off? Charlie is not ashamed of his body, but he just can't cope with the look of concern Nick will undoubtedly have the first time he catches a glance of those dark lines on the inner sides of both of Charlie's biceps.
Nick just looks down at him, seemingly confused as to why he is asking the question, "Charlie… I loved every second of what just happened." His boyfriend appears so joyful at that moment and is clearly in full Nicholas Nelson Simp(TM) mode.
Charlie exhales, unaware he was holding his breath. "Okay, me too." How could he not have enjoyed every moment of what just happened? "But I think we will need to practise. A lot." He sounds very serious about this endeavour.
Nick schools his expression into a very serious look, "Oh, yeah, absolutely." Charlie certainly believes his boyfriend is in agreement with this plan. He’s convinced it’s his number one project. Fuck GCSE revision, this is what he needs to focus on.
They carry on like this for a while, alternating between laughter, silliness, and cuddles, Nick on Charlie’s chest and vice versa.
When he’s resting his ear over the centre of his boyfriend's sternum, Charlie swears he could listen to Nick’s heartbeat forever. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll get the chance to.
He is almost beginning to doze off as Nick shifts, Charlie lifts himself up, and Nick turns to him. Nick pauses, then speaks slowly and hesitantly, as if choosing his words carefully to avoid breaking the mood. "Does it count as sex? When it's just touching? Or is it just like… third base?"
Charlie pauses, considering Nick's question. "I think it counts."
"Yeah?" Nick seems surprised by Charlie's answer.
He considers it further. Charlie reflects on all they have just done, all he would love to explore and do together with Nick. "I think… sex can be all kinds of things." He knows that is true. It doesn't always need to be 'insert tab A into slot B'.
Nick looks at him. He's got that soppy look in his eye again. "There are other things I wanna try with you…" Oh. Oh. Maybe Nick, while certainly not naive, is a little less innocent than Charlie thought.
Charlie meets Nick's gaze. "You've been 'researching', haven't you?" Give his boyfriend Google, and he really can be just as much of a menace as himself.
Suddenly, he is faced with a protesting Nicholas Nelson, "No!! … Maybe a little bit."
Charlie reaches down and swipes Nick's laptop with one hand. "I'm gonna look at your internet history.” He’s genuinely curious about what Nick has been researching and the treasures, nuggets of information, his internet history holds.
Nick grabs him from behind. "No, absolutely not!! Charlieee!!"
Charlie opens the laptop. What greets him instead is tabs opened on university websites: Kent and, surprisingly, Leeds.
After that, they discuss Nick's thoughts on university. It seems he's choosing between Kent and Leeds. If he chooses Kent, which he assumed, but what if Nick doesn't because of the way he is talking at the moment, with that enthusiasm about their sports facilities, and specifically their rugby teams? It's scary, Charlie thinks. A future that once felt so theoretical and abstract is now becoming very real.
He can't let himself think about it now.
Charlie leans down and begins kissing his boyfriend, cupping his face with both hands. It's passionate and carries the sparkle they shared before, but now it is more confident, assertive in a way his boyfriend hasn't displayed before, and he's really enjoying it. They both seem more self-assured. Now they've both had a taste, at least metaphorically if not literally (yet, Charlie thinks, maybe they could do that next time?).
He feels his stomach flip again, in what he suspects will become a very addictive habit, and his lower half begins to stir. Was it awkward, perhaps even a little ridiculous? Yes.
Charlie thinks he can begin to understand why people spend all day in bed together on Sunday.
Talking of spending long hours between the sheets, perhaps there's time for another round? Maybe, perhaps, there are some benefits to being a teenager after all? Could he persuade Nick not to use the duvet next time? He wants to be able to admire his boyfriend in all his glory, after all.
Charlie is almost overwhelmed by the dopamine and endorphins flowing through him in anticipation of round two, until he hears the scrape of the front door opening and Sarah calling out that she’s home.