Chapter 15
Nick leans back slightly against the headboard, his damp hair leaving faint water droplets on his chest as he settles on the bed. The towel around his waist clings precariously, but he doesn’t bother adjusting it—it’s the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, his attention is entirely on Charlie, who sits at the edge of the bed, looking at him like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.
Nick smiles softly to himself, the thought of being here, in Charlie’s house, on Charlie’s bed, feeling almost too good to be true. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how the stars aligned to bring him here, but he’s not going to waste it.
Gently, he reaches out, his hand brushing against Charlie’s before taking hold of it completely. His thumb strokes over Charlie’s knuckles, and the warmth of that small connection settles something in Nick’s chest. “Char, you alright?” he asks, his voice soft, laced with care. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”
Charlie looks at him for a moment, his gaze flickering nervously to the clock on the nightstand. 1:03 am. The faint red glow of the numbers reflects in his eyes as he nods slowly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Charlie says, though Nick hears the slight tremble in his voice. It makes his heart ache, but he waits, giving Charlie the space to speak at his own pace.
Charlie lets out a small, breathy laugh, his free hand running through his curls nervously. “I just... I don’t know. This feels... surreal, you know?”
Nick tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Surreal how?”
Charlie shrugs, looking down at their hands as if the sight alone might steady him. “You’re here. On my bed. In my house. And it’s not... rushed or messy or... bad.” He looks up, his cheeks pink, and Nick swears he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. “I’m not used to things feeling this... good.”
Those words hit Nick like a punch to the gut—not because they hurt, but because they tell him so much about what Charlie’s been through. He shifts closer, their knees brushing, and gently tilts Charlie’s chin up so their eyes meet.
“Hey,” Nick murmurs, his voice firm but kind. “You deserve good things, Charlie. You deserve this. And we’ve got time, yeah? As much as you need.”
He watches as Charlie’s face softens, his lips twitching into a small, hesitant smile. For a moment, Nick feels like the luckiest man alive, just for being the one to see Charlie like this—vulnerable and hopeful all at once.
“Yeah,” Charlie whispers, his voice barely audible but filled with something Nick can only describe as trust. “We’ve got time.”
Nick leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie’s temple, and feels the way Charlie relaxes under the touch. It’s quiet, intimate—like the world outside doesn’t exist, like all they have is this moment.
Nick feels content, completely and utterly content. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the quiet warmth of being here, pressed against Charlie in the soft glow of the night. His lips brush over Charlie’s forehead in tender, featherlight kisses, and he lets his head rest there for a moment, savoring the closeness.
“I like you so much,” Nick whispers, his breath warm against Charlie’s skin. “I like your sweaters.” He smiles softly, shifting so their foreheads touch, their eyes meeting in the dim light.
“I like your dimples,” he continues, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And I like your eyes. God, Charlie, I like your eyes so much.”
Charlie doesn’t say anything, but the way his lips part slightly and his fingers clutch gently at Nick’s hand tells him everything. Nick swallows, the words tumbling out like a confession, raw and vulnerable.
“I just... I like you, so, so, so much,” Nick says, his voice cracking slightly at the edges. “I don’t even know how I got lucky enough to show up tonight and have this—to have you.”
He closes his eyes briefly, pressing another kiss to Charlie’s cheek, his own cheeks flushing as he continues. “I’ve got the stars and deities to thank for that, or... I don’t know, maybe just some dumb luck. But, God, Charlie, I like you.”
Charlie’s eyes shimmer, and his lips curve into a small, shy smile, one that makes Nick’s chest feel like it’s about to burst.
He pulls back just enough to look at Charlie, their foreheads still resting together, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over Charlie's cheek.
When Charlie whispers, "Nick," there's something about the way his name falls from Charlie's lips that sends a shiver down his spine. "Yeah?" Nick murmurs, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.
Charlie looks up at him, cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and filled with something that makes Nick's breath hitch. "I want to suck you off now, yeah? I really, really, really want to."
Nick blinks, the words hitting him like a freight train. His lips part, and for a second, he’s absolutely speechless, caught between surprise and the warmth pooling low in his stomach. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, before letting out a shaky laugh.
“Fuck, Charlie,” he breathes, running a hand through his damp hair. "But, uh, yeah. If that’s what you want…”
Charlie nods, his confidence bolstered by Nick’s reaction. “It is,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Really, really is.”
Nick closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, because holy hell, Charlie Spring is going to be the death of him in the best way possible. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a softness there, a tenderness that he hopes Charlie can feel as much as he sees it.
“Okay,” Nick whispers, his voice barely audible, his lips brushing against Charlie’s as he speaks. “Whatever you want, Charlie. I’m yours.”
Nick's head tilts back, hitting the soft pillows behind him as Charlie crashes their lips together, and all Nick can do is moan into the kiss. The weight of Charlie on his lap feels like everything he didn’t know he needed—the warmth, the pressure, the way Charlie's thighs are snug against his hips. It’s almost too much, but not nearly enough.
He groans when Charlie shifts, straddling him properly, and Nick is keenly aware of how little separates them—just the thin fabric of Charlie’s boxers and his own towel, which is barely clinging to his hips at this point. Nick’s hands instinctively go to Charlie’s waist, fingers curling slightly against the material of his shirt as if to anchor himself, to stop himself from completely unraveling.
But then Charlie starts grinding.
"F-fuck," Nick stutters, his voice trembling as he feels the friction, the heat. His head falls forward, his forehead pressing to Charlie’s shoulder as his hips jerk up instinctively, meeting Charlie’s movements. "Charlie, oh my God—"
He can’t hold back the sounds escaping his lips—little groans, gasps, and whispered curses. He’s always been verbal, always expressed everything he’s feeling, and now is no exception. His chest heaves as Charlie moves against him, and each grind seems to pull another sound from him.
"Uh huh," Nick gasps, his hands gripping Charlie’s hips tightly now, guiding him, encouraging him. "Jesus, Charlie, that’s—fuck, that’s so good. You're so good."
Charlie smirks above him, and Nick swears it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen—the way Charlie is confident and unrelenting, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he experiments, adjusting his movements to see what makes Nick tick. And oh, does Charlie find it.
Nick lets out a deep groan, his head falling back again as Charlie rocks his hips in a way that has Nick’s vision blurring for a moment. "God, Charlie," he chokes out, his voice strained but filled with pleasure. "You're—oh, fuck, you're gonna kill me, I swear."
And yet, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything else but the man in his lap, the heat between them, and the way Charlie is unraveling him piece by piece. It’s raw, it’s messy, and it’s perfect.
Nick lets out a shaky breath as Charlie's lips find the sensitive skin of his neck, the soft presses turning into teasing nips that make him shiver. Every kiss feels like it's setting him on fire, but it’s the way Charlie’s hands start to wander that really undoes him.
Charlie’s hand is tentative at first, almost experimental as it moves over Nick’s chest, his abs, tracing the faint lines of muscle with a featherlight touch. Nick sucks in a breath, his skin hypersensitive to every movement. Charlie’s fingertips feel electric, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in their wake. When Charlie’s pinky dips just under the edge of the towel, barely grazing the skin beneath, Nick’s hips jerk forward instinctively, seeking more contact.
"Fuck," Nick gasps, his voice breaking slightly as pleasure shoots through him. His hands grip tighter at Charlie’s hips, grounding himself as his head falls back against the pillows. "Charlie—God, don’t tease me like that."
But Charlie doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away. Instead, he hums against Nick’s neck, the vibration of it sending another wave of heat through Nick’s body. The combination of Charlie's lips at his neck and the teasing touch of his hand is almost too much. Nick feels like he’s teetering on the edge, his breaths coming in short, uneven pants.
"Please," Nick whispers, his voice raw and needy. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for—just more of Charlie, more of his touch, more of everything. "Don’t stop."
And Charlie doesn’t. Instead, his hand ventures a little lower, the pinky dipping under the towel once more, lingering just a little longer this time. Nick groans, his hips bucking up again in search of more friction, more pleasure, more of the overwhelming heat that’s consuming him.
"You're—fuck, you're driving me insane," Nick breathes, his hands sliding up to tangle in Charlie’s hair, pulling him closer as his body reacts instinctively to every little thing Charlie does. "I—Jesus, Charlie, I need you."
When Charlie pulls away from his neck, Nick instinctively chases him, tilting his chin to try and capture his lips. But Charlie pulls back at the last second, teasingly out of reach, and Nick lets out a frustrated groan, his lips parting with a quiet, "Charlie, please."
Charlie’s shy smile is enough to make Nick’s heart skip a beat, the soft pink flush dusting across his cheeks making him look impossibly endearing. He leans closer, close enough that Nick can feel the faintest brush of his breath against his skin. For a moment, Nick thinks he’s finally going to get that kiss, the one he’s desperate for—but then Charlie pulls away again, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Can I take this off?" Charlie asks, his voice soft and tentative, his hands running lightly up and down the edge of the towel. The gentle touch sends shivers down Nick’s spine, the teasing sensation making his breath hitch.
Nick swallows hard, his entire body tingling at the question, at the sheer sweetness in Charlie’s tone mixed with the boldness of the request. He’s never felt this way before—so undone by someone’s gentleness and their teasing all at once. He nods, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, "Yeah... yeah, you can."
Charlie’s hands pause for just a moment, his gaze flickering up to meet Nick’s, searching for any hesitation. But Nick’s wide eyes and parted lips are all the confirmation he needs. Slowly, carefully, Charlie hooks his fingers under the edge of the towel, his movements deliberate and unhurried, his touch soft against Nick’s skin.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," Charlie murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and Nick can only shake his head, his heart pounding as he lets himself sink into the moment.
"I won’t," Nick manages to say, his voice thick with need. "I trust you, Charlie. Just... don’t stop."
Nick feels utterly exposed, completely laid bare in more ways than one. The towel is now gone, and he’s entirely naked now, his skin flushed and his chest rising and falling with each uneven breath. He’s achingly hard, the evidence of it pooling slightly on his stomach, and his face burns as he realizes Charlie is just... staring.
It’s not judgmental, though, and it’s not teasing. But still, Nick feels a pang of vulnerability settle into his chest. He swallows hard, instinctively wanting to cover himself, to hide under the blanket of his usual confidence, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not with the way Charlie’s gaze seems to hold him in place.
He shifts slightly under Charlie’s lingering eyes, the weight of the moment making his heart race. "Charlie," he murmurs, his voice shaky and almost unrecognizable. He can’t tell if it’s a plea or a question, but it hangs in the air between them.
Charlie blinks, his lips parting slightly as if realizing he’s been caught staring. His cheeks flush a deep red, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Sorry," he whispers, his voice gentle and reverent, like he’s afraid to break whatever fragile thing they’ve created between them. "You’re just... you’re so beautiful, Nick."
Nick’s breath catches at those words, something soft and tender blooming in his chest, but the vulnerability doesn’t completely fade. He lets out a nervous laugh, his hands twitching at his sides. "Beautiful, huh? I’m... not used to hearing that."
"You should," Charlie says, his tone more certain now. He leans forward, his hands gently resting on Nick’s thighs, grounding him. "Because you are. I mean it."
The sincerity in Charlie’s voice makes Nick’s chest ache in the best way. He looks up, meeting Charlie’s gaze, and for the first time, he lets himself truly believe it. "Thanks," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
Charlie hums softly, the sound vibrating in the quiet room, and Nick feels like he might combust. He’s never been so aroused in his entire life, and it only gets worse—or better—when Charlie’s hand moves experimentally, brushing over his length. The touch is so light, so fleeting, but it sends a jolt of pleasure through Nick’s body. His cock twitches in response, as if eagerly begging for more, and a bead of pre-cum spills out, making him feel even more exposed.
Nick’s instinct is to hide, to cover his face or turn away, because no one’s ever... looked at him like this before. Not really. His past experiences have always been quick, messy, and over before he could even process what was happening. There was no time for this kind of slow, deliberate attention, no time for anyone to actually see him like this.
But Charlie isn’t rushing. He isn’t fumbling or moving onto the next thing. He’s here, completely focused on Nick, taking his time as if every part of him is worth exploring. And it’s overwhelming in the best way.
Nick swallows hard, his breath hitching as Charlie’s thumb drags gently across the sensitive head of his cock. He wants to say something, anything, but his thoughts are scrambled, and all that comes out is a soft, broken moan.
Charlie smiles, clearly pleased by the reaction, and hums again, this time a little lower, a little more smug. "You’re so responsive," he murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and teasing. His fingers move again, this time wrapping around Nick’s length, giving him a slow, steady stroke. "It’s like... everything I do drives you crazy."
"It does," Nick manages to choke out, his voice strained and full of need. His hands clutch at the sheets beneath him, trying to ground himself as waves of pleasure threaten to overtake him. "Fuck, Charlie... I—"
"You’re so sensitive," Charlie cuts in, almost like he’s talking to himself. His touch remains slow and intentional, and the way his eyes stay locked on Nick’s face makes it clear he’s paying attention to every little reaction. "I like this... I like making you feel good."
Charlie’s hand moves in a rhythm that’s torturously slow, the kind of pace that has Nick’s entire body trembling with anticipation. It’s deliberate—too deliberate—and Nick is certain Charlie’s doing it on purpose, just to watch him squirm. The friction is maddening, just enough to tease but nowhere near enough to bring him over the edge. His hips buck involuntarily, desperate for more, but Charlie’s hand doesn’t pick up speed.
"Charlie," Nick breathes out, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to ground himself. His fists clutch the sheets beneath him, knuckles white as he fights the urge to take control. "Please—"
But Charlie just hums, a quiet, teasing sound that’s so smug Nick swears he might lose it. And then Charlie’s thumb swipes across the sensitive head of his cock, smearing the bead of pre-cum there, and Nick does let out a small, broken cry, his back arching at the sensation.
He’s about to say something, maybe beg, when Charlie’s hand suddenly pulls away entirely. The absence of contact leaves Nick gasping, and he nearly cries out from the loss. "Charlie!" he whines, his voice raw with need.
Charlie tilts his head, his expression so casual, so full of mischief, like he’s completely unbothered by the wrecked state Nick is in. "You’re so impatient," he says softly, running his fingers up Nick’s trembling thigh but not touching where Nick needs him most. "You’re really cute like this, you know."
Nick groans, tossing his head back against the pillow. "You’re killing me," he mutters, his voice strained. His hips jerk up slightly, searching for any friction, but there’s nothing. Just Charlie sitting there, watching him unravel.
"You’re fine," Charlie says with a small smile, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to Nick’s stomach, just above where he’s straining. "I’ve got you. Trust me, yeah?"
Nick exhales shakily, his body still trembling as he looks down at Charlie. There’s so much playfulness in his expression, but there’s also care, something soft and genuine that makes Nick’s chest ache.
Charlie’s voice, steady but laced with mischief, cuts through the haze in Nick’s mind. "I’m going to suck you off now," he announces, matter-of-fact and completely unashamed.
Nick blinks up at him, stunned into silence, and watches as Charlie begins to scoot down his body. His hands trail lightly along Nick’s sides, leaving shivers in their wake, and Nick feels the air leave his lungs in a rush. He thanks every deity he can think of for the large bed beneath him, for the fact that Charlie doesn’t even consider getting on his knees on the hard floor. If Charlie had, Nick swears he’d hunt down every single person who ever made Charlie feel like he had to do that and give them a piece of his mind.
But those thoughts are fleeting, because in the next moment, Nick’s brain short-circuits entirely.
Charlie doesn’t waste any time. He leans down, his breath ghosting over Nick’s length, and then he’s moving—hot, wet, and oh god, Nick feels like he’s going to combust. He gasps, his head tipping back against the pillows as his hands clutch at the sheets beside him, his knuckles going white.
Charlie is good. Too good. He moves his tongue along Nick’s vein, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every ridge, every twitch, every reaction. And when he finally takes Nick into his mouth fully, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, Nick can’t help the strangled sound that tears from his throat.
It’s overwhelming in the best possible way. Charlie sets a pace that’s unrelenting but not rushed, his hands gripping Nick’s thighs to keep him grounded as he works. Nick feels the wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth when Charlie gets a little too enthusiastic, and it’s all so perfect, so Charlie, that he feels his chest tighten with more than just lust.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes before he realizes it, and by the time they’re rolling down his cheeks, he’s too far gone to care. "Fuck, Charlie," Nick chokes out, his voice breaking as his hips buck slightly. "Holy—shit, you’re—"
Charlie hums around him, the vibration shooting straight through Nick, and it’s enough to make his breath hitch. He feels like he’s burning alive, the heat pooling low in his stomach threatening to consume him entirely. His hands twitch like they want to grab something—Charlie’s curls, the sheets, anything—but he forces himself to keep them fisted at his sides. The last thing he wants is to mess this up by getting too eager.
When Charlie pulls back slightly, dragging his tongue along the head before diving back down, Nick feels a shudder wrack through his body. It’s almost too much, the pleasure blurring into something sharp and electric, and Nick thinks he might actually cry out loud if Charlie keeps this up for another second.
It’s so much. Almost too much.
Nick feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something both euphoric and overwhelming as Charlie works him over, his hands sliding along the length of him in perfect rhythm with his mouth. Nick is trembling, his thighs taut and his breaths ragged as Charlie zeroes in on his head, lavishing it with attention that has Nick gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
Charlie’s tongue swirls, slow and deliberate, before flicking in a way that makes Nick’s back arch off the bed. "F-fuck, Charlie," he gasps, his voice hitching as his body twitches uncontrollably. Charlie doesn’t let up, his mouth hot and wet and relentless, sucking just enough to send jolts of pleasure shooting through Nick’s entire body.
His hands—oh god, his hands—begin to move in tandem, stroking what Charlie’s mouth can’t take. His fingers are warm, firm but not rough, twisting and pulling in a way that has Nick’s hips bucking slightly despite his attempts to stay still. It’s maddening. Perfectly maddening.
And then Charlie does something wicked: he pulls back, letting his tongue drag over the head again, slowly, so slowly that Nick nearly whimpers. He looks up, smiling warmly, his lips flushed and glistening, and Nick swears he’s never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.
"God, Charlie," Nick groans, his voice barely more than a whisper. He feels like he’s going to unravel.
But Charlie doesn’t stop. His other hand comes into play, wrapping around the base as he focuses all his attention on the head, his strokes purposeful and teasing and so fucking perfect that Nick can’t think straight. He’s twitching now, his body betraying just how close he is, and he can feel himself leaking against Charlie’s palm.
The combination of Charlie’s tongue and hands, his deliberate twisting and pulling and stroking, is too much. Nick’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his entire body on fire, and he’s barely holding on by a thread.
"Charlie," he rasps, his voice hoarse and trembling. "I’m—fuck, I’m so close—"
Charlie lets go, completely removing his mouth and hands, and Nick’s cock slaps back against his stomach, twitching helplessly. Nick’s breath hitches, his head falling back against the pillow as he lets out a frustrated groan. “Fucking hell, Charlie,” he breathes out, his voice low and wrecked. “You’re so fucking good.”
Charlie looks up at him with a mischievous smile, his lips shiny and swollen. He doesn’t move for a moment, watching Nick’s chest rise and fall, letting him cool off. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds.
And then Charlie moves again, his hand ghosting over Nick’s length before his mouth is back on him, warm and wet and absolutely sinful. Nick’s entire body jerks, and he lets out a strangled cry. “Wait—wait—Charlie!” he chokes out. “I’m going to come, I’m going to—”
Charlie pulls up just enough to murmur against him, “Hold it, baby.”
Nick squeezes his eyes shut, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles ache. His breath is ragged, desperate, as he tries to do what Charlie asks. “I can’t,” he groans, his voice trembling. “Fuck, Charlie, you’re too good—too fucking good.”
Charlie’s hand strokes him once, twice, making Nick’s entire body tremble, and then he leans back up, licking at the head like he’s savoring him. “Please?” Charlie whispers, his voice soft and needy. “I want to keep going, just for a little longer.”
Nick is barely holding on, every nerve in his body on fire. He sucks in a few deep breaths, three, four, forcing himself to focus on anything but the heat and pleasure coursing through him. “Okay,” he finally manages, his voice shaky. “Okay. Yeah.”
Charlie smiles, his hands steadying Nick’s hips as he leans back down. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and Nick shudders at the praise, feeling like he might come undone at just those two words.
Charlie, with that playful gleam in his eye, presses a featherlight kiss to the tip of Nick’s cock, and Nick twitches in response, letting out a shaky groan. Then Charlie tilts his head, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness as he says, “You like being my good boy, huh?”
The words hit Nick like a freight train, and he nearly combusts on the spot. His head falls back against the pillow, his hands clenching the sheets as if they’re the only thing tethering him to earth. “Fuck, Charlie,” he chokes out, his voice trembling and thick with need. “See, there’s that—fuck—there’s that confidence you have. That confidence I love.”
Charlie smirks, leaning down to press another slow kiss to Nick’s tip, then trailing soft kisses down his length, making Nick shiver. “Yeah?” Charlie hums, his voice still teasing but softer now, filled with warmth. “You love my confidence?”
Nick nods rapidly, his breath hitching as Charlie’s tongue traces along a vein, sending sparks shooting through his body. “Yeah,” Nick manages to say, his voice hoarse. “I love it. God, I love it so much. And fuck, Charlie, you’re so—”
“Good?” Charlie interrupts, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at Nick, his lips ghosting over him, teasing him without mercy. “You think I’m good?”
“More than good,” Nick gasps out, his voice breaking. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Charlie grins at that, leaning up just enough to let Nick see the mischief dancing in his eyes. “Perfect, huh? Well then, you better keep being my good boy,” he whispers before taking him back into his mouth, and Nick’s entire body tenses as he lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a whimper and a curse.
It’s overwhelming—Charlie’s teasing words, the soft pressure of his mouth, the warmth of his hands steadying Nick’s hips. And when Charlie hums in approval, it sends vibrations through Nick’s body, and he knows he’s done for.
Nick feels it building, that unstoppable, earth-shattering wave of pleasure about to crash over him. His breath stutters as he gasps, “Charlie—I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck—”
But just as he teeters on the edge, Charlie pulls away, leaving Nick groaning in frustration. His cock twitches against his stomach, aching for release, but before he can protest, Charlie’s warm lips find his thigh, peppering it with soft, almost apologetic kisses.
Charlie doesn’t stop there—he trails his lips upward, teasing over Nick’s torso, pausing just briefly to kiss the small divot of his stomach before moving higher. His kisses are deliberate and slow, as if he’s trying to map out every inch of Nick’s skin with his mouth.
When Charlie’s lips finally reach Nick’s neck, Nick lets out a shaky breath, his head falling back against the pillow. But the second Charlie’s mouth latches onto his neck, leaving a kiss just under his jaw, something snaps in Nick. He grabs Charlie with a sudden burst of energy, flipping them so that Charlie is beneath him, their positions reversed.
Now it’s Nick hovering over Charlie, his chest heaving as he takes in the sight of the man beneath him—flushed, breathless, and so, so beautiful. “You’re driving me insane,” Nick mutters before crashing their lips together in a fierce, almost desperate kiss.
Charlie hums against his lips, his hands immediately finding their way to Nick’s back, his nails grazing the skin lightly. The kiss deepens, both of them lost in the heat and passion of it, and Nick uses his hands to steady himself as he presses their bodies closer, every touch of Charlie’s lips grounding him and igniting him all at once.
“Did I… did I do okay?”
Nick freezes for a second, his heart squeezing at the vulnerability in Charlie’s voice. Without hesitation, he leans down, cupping Charlie’s face with both hands, and peppers kisses along his cheeks. “Baby,” Nick whispers, his voice laced with affection and urgency. “You’re so fucking good. So fucking good.” He presses a lingering kiss to Charlie’s lips, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.
“Please don’t think otherwise,” Nick says, his voice firm but gentle. “The best. You’re the best.”
Charlie’s cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red, and he lets out a small, breathy laugh, his hands sliding up Nick’s arms. “You really think so?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nick grins, leaning his forehead against Charlie’s. “I know so,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking over Charlie’s cheekbones. “You’ve got no idea just how perfect you are, do you?”
Charlie swallows hard, his chest rising and falling as he processes Nick’s words and the warmth of his touch. “He… okay,” he says softly, his voice barely audible, but there’s a flicker of relief in his eyes when Nick smiles warmly back at him.
Nick leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie’s temple. “Can I make you feel good now?” he asks, his tone soft, almost reverent.
Charlie shrugs, clearly nervous, and Nick lets out a soft laugh, brushing his thumb across Charlie’s cheek. “Char, I need you to vocalize what you want. Tell me what feels right for you, okay?”
Charlie takes a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting with the sheets. “I… I don’t know if I want you to suck me off yet. That’s... I’d prefer if you’re close, like... right here,” he says, his words hesitant but honest.
Nick nods, his smile never wavering. “Yeah?” he asks gently, encouraging.
Charlie hums, his cheeks flushing as he continues, “I just… I’d rather you use your hand or something. You don’t have to, but—”
Nick cuts him off with a reassuring kiss to his forehead. “I ask what you want, Char. If you want my hand, then you’re getting my hand. No questions, no hesitations.”
Charlie nods, his eyes flickering with trust as he whispers, “Yeah. Okay.”
Nick shifts slowly, scooting closer until he’s lying on his side next to Charlie, wrapping one arm around him in a protective hold while the other hand hovers just above Charlie’s waistband. He looks into Charlie’s eyes, his expression filled with care and patience. “This okay?” he asks softly, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.
Charlie exhales shakily, nodding as his hand rests against Nick’s chest for stability. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice trembling but firm enough to convey his consent.
Nick lets his hand slip under the fabric of Charlie’s waistband, his movements slow and deliberate, testing the waters. His palm brushes experimentally against Charlie, feeling the heat and the shiver that runs through him. Nick leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Charlie’s cheek, murmuring, “You’re okay, Char. I’ve got you.”
Charlie’s head finds its place on Nick’s shoulder, his breaths growing heavier with each movement. Nick’s hand twists gently, moving up and down in a rhythm that’s both soothing and electrifying. His voice is low, barely a whisper, as he reassures, “See? It’s meant to be fun, Char. Something good. Yeah?”
A groan escapes Charlie’s lips, his fingers gripping Nick’s arm tightly as if anchoring himself in the moment. “Yeah,” he breathes out, his voice breaking slightly, laced with both relief and need.
Nick smiles against Charlie’s temple, his lips brushing the skin there as he continues, his movements steady but filled with care. “You’re so good, Char. Just let yourself feel it. I’m here,” Nick whispers, his voice like a warm embrace, grounding Charlie as he guides him through this tender, intimate moment.
Nick keeps his movements steady, but every so often, he speeds up just enough to make Charlie squirm, then slows down to an almost torturous pace. He bites back a laugh as Charlie lets out a frustrated groan, his face buried in Nick’s shoulder.
When Nick stops completely, Charlie turns to him with a death glare, swatting at Nick’s arm in protest. “You’re a menace,” Charlie huffs, his cheeks flushed and his voice breathy.
Nick laughs lightly, his grin teasing but warm. “A menace? Me?” he says, feigning innocence. “I thought you liked this.”
Charlie narrows his eyes but can’t keep the corners of his lips from twitching upward. “I did—until you stopped,” he mutters, squirming slightly under Nick’s arm.
Nick leans in, his nose brushing against Charlie’s cheek as he whispers, “Well, if you want me to keep going, maybe say please.”
Charlie groans dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in his expression. “Please,” he says, barely above a whisper, his hand gripping Nick’s forearm.
Nick chuckles, kissing Charlie’s temple before resuming his movements, his hand gliding with newfound purpose. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Charlie groans, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "If you keep saying shit like that, I might not fuck you at all."
Nick freezes, his hand pausing mid-motion as he turns to Charlie with a dramatic pout. "Aw, that’s not fair, baby," he whines, his lower lip jutting out in a way that’s both adorable and infuriating.
Charlie narrows his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "What’s not fair is you teasing me like this."
Nick shrugs, the grin on his face utterly shameless. "I was just trying to return the favor."
Charlie rolls his eyes, his tone deadpan but his cheeks visibly pink. "Yeah, but that’s not good."
Nick blinks, feigning offense as he clutches his chest. "Not good? Charlie Spring, I’m deeply wounded."
Charlie huffs, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "You’ll survive," he says, shifting slightly under Nick’s arm. "Now, stop being a tease and get back to work."
Nick chuckles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Charlie’s jawline before resuming his movements, this time with a little more focus. "Anything for you, baby."
They stay like that for quite a while, tangled together, with Nick's hand working its magic and his lips pressing gentle, grounding kisses along Charlie’s jaw, neck, and temple. Charlie, for his part, has his arms wrapped around Nick, occasionally kissing his shoulder or letting his lips brush over the curve of Nick's neck, trying to keep himself tethered as Nick slowly unravels him.
Nick watches Charlie closely, feels the way his breathing becomes uneven, hears the little gasps and stuttered moans that escape without Charlie even realizing it. And when Charlie’s legs begin to tremble, just slightly, signaling that he’s close, Nick pulls his hand away with care, his touch soft as he places a kiss to Charlie’s flushed cheek.
Charlie turns his head to look at Nick, dazed but unbothered, his expression open and trusting. Without saying a word, he lifts his hips and slips his underwear off, tossing them aside in one swift, silent motion.
Nick's breath catches, his heart thudding against his ribs as he takes in the sight of Charlie completely bare besides his shirt, vulnerable, yet so confident in this moment. He smiles, warmth flooding him as he leans in to press another kiss to Charlie's forehead. "You're so beautiful, Char," he whispers, his voice soft but full of admiration.
Charlie doesn't respond with words, instead pulling Nick down for a kiss, letting the warmth of it speak for itself.
Charlie taps Nick's leg lightly, his voice soft but steady as he says, "Okay, up you get."
Nick laughs, letting his hands fall to his sides as he scoots off the bed, watching as Charlie turns toward his nightstand. Nick can't help but smirk as Charlie opens a drawer, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a small bottle of lube. Charlie turns around, holding it up with a cheeky smile, and Nick wiggles his eyebrows playfully, his grin wide and teasing.
Charlie lets out a small laugh, shaking his head before reaching over and ruffling Nick's damp hair affectionately. "You're ridiculous," Charlie mutters, but there’s nothing but fondness in his tone.
As the playful moment fades into quiet, Charlie shifts slightly, his expression softening. He glances down at the bottle in his hand and then back up at Nick. "I'm... I'm a little nervous," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nick's teasing demeanor instantly melts away, replaced with a gentle, reassuring warmth. He steps closer, placing his hands lightly on Charlie’s hips, his thumbs brushing soothing circles against the soft fabric of his nightshirt. "Yeah?" Nick says, his voice equally quiet. "Me too."
Charlie fidgets slightly, rolling the bottle of lube between his fingers before looking up at Nick. "Is it... Is it okay if we just do, uh, missionary?" he asks, his voice tentative but steady. "I don’t know, I’d just... I’d rather be able to watch your face, you know? Just in case I do something wrong."
Nick’s face softens, and he reaches out, brushing his fingers against Charlie’s hand. "Yeah, course," he says, his tone full of reassurance. "Whatever makes you comfortable, Char."
Nick steps back toward the bed and scoots up onto it, leaning back against the pillows with a lazy smile. He watches as Charlie exhales, clearly trying to calm his nerves. Charlie suddenly picks up one of the extra pillows and tosses it toward Nick, aiming for his chest but hitting his shoulder instead.
"Ass up," Charlie mutters, a bit of humor breaking through his nervous energy.
Nick laughs, catching the pillow as it bounces off him. "Bossy, aren’t you?" he teases.
Charlie nods, his cheeks flushed, and steps closer. The sight of Nick trusting him so easily makes his nerves flutter, but the soft, teasing light in Nick’s eyes reassures him. "Perfect,"
Charlie takes a shaky breath as he pops open the bottle of lube, squeezing some onto his fingers. His hands tremble slightly, but he steadies himself, glancing at Nick. "I... uh, I’m sorry if it’s cold," he murmurs, his voice soft but tinged with nervousness. "You’ll tell me if I do something wrong or if... if I hurt you, right?"
Nick nods immediately, his face warm with reassurance. "Course, baby," he says, his voice a low, comforting hum. "I promise."
Charlie exhales in relief, his lips quirking into a small, nervous smile. He positions himself closer, his hands moving to Nick’s legs. "Okay, uh, I’m just gonna..." He trails off as he gently lifts Nick’s legs, resting them on his shoulders.
Nick chuckles lightly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "You’re really taking charge here," he teases, but his voice is laced with affection.
"I just... I want to make sure it’s good for you," Charlie admits, his tone shy but sincere.
Nick’s heart swells, and he’s about to respond when he feels the first tentative touch of Charlie’s slicked-up finger against him. The sudden coolness makes him squeak softly, and he instinctively tenses for a moment before relaxing again.
"Sorry," Charlie whispers quickly, his eyes wide with concern.
Nick lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "No, no, it’s fine," he assures, his voice slightly breathless but steady. "Just surprised me, that’s all. You’re doing great, Charlie."
Nick can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. It’s not forced, not polite—it's genuine, full of warmth and something soft he hasn’t felt in a long time. He gazes at Charlie, who looks so focused, so careful, and his heart feels so full he swears it might burst.
Then, there’s a gentle pressure, a slow and deliberate touch, and Nick’s breath hitches. He feels Charlie’s finger press in, easing him open, and his smile wavers, replaced by a sharp intake of air. His eyes flutter shut, and a low, unrestrained moan slips from his lips.
"Fuck," he breathes out, his hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath him. "Char, that feels—holy hell, that feels so fucking good."
Charlie freezes for a second, his eyes darting up to Nick’s face. "Are you... Are you sure? It’s okay?" he asks nervously, though his hand stays steady.
Nick opens his eyes just enough to see Charlie’s worried expression, and he shakes his head with a laugh that’s almost shaky from the pleasure. "No, I mean, yes, it’s... Fuck, it’s better than okay. You’re so... so good at this."
Charlie’s face floods with relief and pride, a small, bashful grin tugging at his lips. "Okay," he whispers, his voice tinged with awe, and he carefully adds a little more pressure, letting his finger move with purpose and care.
Nick feels the stretch, the slow rhythm of Charlie’s hand working him open, and he lets his head fall back against the pillow, his chest heaving with each breath. He’s never felt like this—so completely undone and vulnerable yet cared for.
"God, Charlie," Nick moans, his voice thick with pleasure. "You have no idea... no idea how good this feels."
Charlie’s movements falter for a split second, his face flushing even deeper. "Yeah? Really?"
Nick nods fervently, his smile returning between soft groans. "Really. Keep going, baby. Please."
The encouragement makes Charlie’s confidence grow just a little, and he adds a second finger, moving with even more care. And Nick? Nick feels himself falling apart.
Nick's breath hitches, and his eyes snap open when Charlie's fingers shift just slightly, pressing into something that sends a shockwave of white-hot pleasure through his entire body.
His reaction is instant-a loud, unabashed moan tearing from his throat as his hips buck involuntarily against Charlie's hand.
"Fuck, Charlie!" he cries, his voice ragged and trembling. "Oh, my God, that-fuck!"
Charlie stills for a moment, looking up at Nick with wide, slightly panicked eyes. "Was that- was that okay?" he asks quickly, his voice a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Nick can barely form words, his head falling back against the pillow as he tries to catch his breath."Okay? That was... Oh, fuck, Charlie, that was-"
Charlie's lips curl into a small, proud smile, and his fingers press there again, gently, deliberately. Nick's entire body jerks, and another loud moan spills from him, this one lower and almost desperate.
"Found it," Charlie says softly, his tone tinged with awe and a hint of amusement. "
Yeah," Nick manages to pant, his voice strained. "You fucking found it."
Charlie's smile grows, and he starts to work his fingers more purposefully, brushing against that spot again and again, watching the way Nick's body reacts. Nick is a mess now, his legs trembling, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white.
"God, Charlie,"' Nick groans, his voice breaking slightly. "You're gonna-fuck, you're gonna ruin me"
Charlie chuckles softly, a flush spreading across his cheeks. "That's kind of the goal," he murmurs, his confidence building with every sound that escapes Nick's lips.
Nick’s voice cracks as he pleads, his words tumbling out in breathless desperation. “Charlie, please. Please, I’m ready. I need you—please.” His fingers grip the sheets beneath him, knuckles white, and his eyes lock onto Charlie’s, wide and full of raw vulnerability and desire.
Charlie pauses, his own breath hitching at the sight of Nick so undone, so open for him. A soft, warm smile spreads across his face, steady and reassuring. “Okay,” he whispers, nodding as if to soothe both Nick and himself. “Okay, I’ve got you.”
Charlie leans over, his hand reaching for the drawer by the bed. Nick watches, his gaze fixated, pupils blown wide with want. He feels his heart pounding in his chest as Charlie pulls out a condom and tears the wrapper open with his teeth. There’s something so effortlessly confident about the motion that it makes Nick’s stomach flip.
Charlie takes his time, rolling the condom on with practiced ease. Nick’s eyes are glued to him, and when Charlie grabs the bottle of lube, it’s almost too much. Nick lets out a shaky groan as he watches Charlie spread the slickness over himself, his long fingers working methodically, stroking in a way that’s both practical and unintentionally seductive.
“Fuck, Charlie,” Nick murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and need. “You’re so—” He cuts himself off with a low moan as Charlie adjusts himself, shifting closer, and positions himself between Nick’s legs.
Charlie’s gaze softens as he looks up at Nick, his voice quiet but sure. “You’re okay, yeah? You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
Nick nods feverishly, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. Just… please, Charlie. I need you.”
It’s white-hot pleasure, all-consuming and overwhelming, like nothing Nick has ever felt before. It’s so much—too much and not enough all at once. His mind is reeling, his body arching into every movement Charlie makes. If he had the courage, he’d probably confess his love right here and now, shout it from the rooftops, tell Charlie just how much he means to him. But instead, he reaches out, hands fumbling blindly until they find Charlie’s.
Their fingers intertwine, and Nick feels a surge of emotion as their connection deepens. It’s not just physical—it’s something so much more, something tender and sacred that makes Nick’s chest ache with affection.
Charlie’s eyes meet his, filled with warmth and something unspoken. His movements are slow and steady at first, careful, like he’s taking the time to memorize every sound and expression that escapes from Nick. The groan that slips from Charlie’s lips sends shivers down Nick’s spine, a perfect harmony to the little gasps and moans that spill from his own mouth.
“Nick,” Charlie murmurs, his voice low and rough with need. His free hand gently cups Nick’s cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing over the flushed skin there before gripping Nick’s hip for leverage.
Nick whimpers in response, his head tipping back, exposing his throat as his body moves in perfect rhythm with Charlie’s. The heat, the closeness, the sheer intimacy of it—it’s everything. It’s all Nick ever wanted and more.
“Charlie,” Nick breathes, his voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. His grip on Charlie’s hand tightens as he arches up to meet him. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”
Charlie doesn’t. He leans forward, their foreheads brushing as he presses a soft kiss to Nick’s temple, his movements growing more sure and desperate. They’re a tangled mess of sweat and desire, and yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
In this moment, they’re connected in every possible way, and Nick swears he can feel Charlie’s heartbeat matching his own as they move together, as one.
Nick hates how quickly it’s building—the unbearable, unstoppable heat pooling low in his stomach. Charlie’s rhythm has him teetering on the edge, his movements so precise, so good. And then Charlie's hand wraps around his length, stroking him in time with every thrust, and it’s too much.
Nick’s head falls back against the pillow, and he swears he’s chanting, “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” his voice breathless and high-pitched, his words barely coherent. “I’m—I’m about to come. I can’t—fuck, Charlie, I’m gonna—”
And Charlie just smiles down at him, so warm and so confident, and shifts his hips just enough to angle himself perfectly. He hits that sweet spot, the one Nick didn’t even realize he needed, and Nick’s whole world explodes into white-hot stars.
“Fuck!” Nick cries out, his body arching off the bed, his hands gripping at the sheets and Charlie’s shoulders like a lifeline. The pleasure is so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that he can’t stop the little sobs that escape his throat as he tips over the edge.
Charlie’s strokes don’t falter, his hips moving through the spasms of Nick’s release as he coaxes every last ounce of pleasure out of him. Nick feels himself unravel completely, his body trembling, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
When it’s over, he’s utterly spent, his head lolling to the side as he tries to catch his breath. Charlie slows his movements, pressing gentle kisses to Nick’s temple and cheek. Nick feels like he’s floating, like he’s just been completely and utterly consumed by Charlie, and he doesn’t hate it. Not one bit.
Nick feels like he’s floating, still basking in the afterglow as he watches Charlie. The way he moves is so careful, deliberate—cleaning up with a soft tenderness that Nick isn’t used to. It feels... nice. Too nice.
When Charlie steps into the bathroom to toss the cloth, Nick’s chest tightens. This is where it ends, isn’t it? This is the part where he’s supposed to get dressed, leave quietly, and not linger too long. He’s been here before. He knows how this goes.
Standing on shaky legs, he makes his way to the bathroom, fumbling for his clothes. His body protests, muscles weak and trembling, but he’s learned to push through it. He’s not about to stick around and ruin whatever goodwill Charlie might still feel.
When he comes back into the room, he's shirtless and his jeans barely zipped, he’s met with Charlie’s deep frown.
“Why?” Charlie’s voice is small, confused, almost hurt. “Why are you leaving?”
Nick freezes, his breath catching in his throat. “I—I thought...” He stammers, unsure how to explain. “I figured... you’d want space. Most people do after...”
Charlie’s frown deepens, and he crosses the room in two quick strides, reaching for Nick’s hands. “Nick.” His voice is firm but so gentle it makes Nick’s heart ache. “I don’t want space. I don’t want you to leave.”
Nick blinks, stunned. “You don’t?”
Charlie shakes his head, his thumbs brushing over Nick’s knuckles. “No, of course not. Why would I?”
Nick shrugs helplessly, his gaze dropping to their hands. “Because... I’ve always been the one to leave. Or... to get asked to leave. That’s just how it works, right?”
Charlie’s eyes soften, and he tilts Nick’s chin up so their gazes meet. “Not with me. You’re not just... some one-night thing to me, Nick.”
Nick swallows hard, emotion welling up in his chest. “Charlie, I—”
“Stay,” Charlie interrupts, his voice steady but tender. “Stay here. With me.”
Nick nods, his throat too tight to speak, and lets Charlie guide him back to the bed, but not before taking his jeans off. As they lie down together, Charlie pulls him close, wrapping him up in warmth and comfort. For the first time in what feels like forever, Nick doesn’t feel like he has to run. He doesn’t feel like he has to be anywhere else but here.
“I don’t want you to go,” Charlie murmurs, his voice soft against Nick’s hair.
Nick smiles into the crook of Charlie’s neck, his heart full in a way he didn’t know it could be. “I don’t want to go either.”
They lay like that for what feels like forever, but Nick wouldn’t dare move. He’s completely content, basking in the aftercare Charlie offers so naturally. Charlie’s fingers gently weave through his damp hair, occasionally scratching his scalp in a way that makes Nick melt further into his arms.
Nick’s head rests against Charlie’s chest, his ear right over the steady rhythm of Charlie’s heartbeat. It’s soothing, grounding. Their legs dangle off the edge of the bed, intertwined in a way that makes it impossible to tell whose is whose, but Nick doesn’t care. This moment feels too sacred to disrupt.
Charlie shifts slightly, his fingertips trailing down Nick’s neck before rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder. Nick hums, nuzzling closer, his own arms tightening around Charlie’s waist.
“This is nice,” Nick murmurs, his voice soft and lazy.
Charlie chuckles quietly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, it is. I could get used to this.”
Nick tilts his head up, catching the faint blush dusting Charlie’s cheeks. “You mean, me taking up your bed space and hogging your pillow?”
Charlie grins, his hand moving to cup Nick’s jaw. “No, I mean this... us.”
The word lingers in the air, heavier than Nick expects, but it doesn’t scare him. Instead, it warms him from the inside out, and he lets himself lean into the tenderness of the moment.
“I could get used to this too,” Nick admits, his voice quiet but sure.
They fall back into silence, but it’s not awkward or heavy. It’s filled with soft breaths and the occasional brush of Charlie’s hand through Nick’s hair. Every touch, every whisper of skin against skin, feels like a promise that neither of them has to say out loud yet.
Nick closes his eyes, letting the steady rhythm of Charlie’s breathing lull him into a rare sense of peace. For once, he doesn’t feel like he has to run, like he has to fight against the urge to protect himself. Here, in Charlie’s arms, he just feels... safe.
Nick nuzzles closer, his lips brushing against Charlie's shoulder as he murmurs, "You did so fucking good, Char. God, I've never come that hard before." His voice is quiet, full of awe and exhaustion, like he’s trying to wrap his head around what just happened.
Charlie lets out a small laugh, his hand still absentmindedly running through Nick’s hair. "Yeah," he says, his voice a mix of humor and bashfulness. "It was... it was fun."
Nick lifts his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Fun? That’s all you’ve got to say?"
Charlie shrugs, his lips quirking into a small smile. "What else am I supposed to say? I mean, yeah, it was really fucking fun." There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks, and Nick can’t help but grin at how endearing he looks, even now.
“You’re ridiculous,” Nick teases, his thumb brushing over Charlie’s cheekbone. "But you’re also... amazing."
Charlie ducks his head, the blush deepening. "You’re just saying that because you’re still all blissed out."
Nick chuckles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Charlie’s temple. "Maybe. But I’m also saying it because it’s true." He shifts a little, pulling Charlie even closer. "You’ve got no idea how good you made me feel."
Charlie hums softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Nick’s arm. "Well, I guess I did okay then," he says with a grin.
Nick hums softly, his head resting against Charlie’s shoulder as his fingers trace lazy circles on Charlie’s arm. "I did not expect myself here tonight," he murmurs, his voice thoughtful and quiet. "Honestly, I expected myself to just get drunk and wasted."
Charlie glances down at him, his brows furrowing slightly. "And why... why did you want to get drunk?" His voice is hesitant, like he’s unsure if he should be asking.
Nick sighs, the sound heavy and full of something Charlie can’t quite place. He shifts slightly, his gaze fixed on some point across the room, as if avoiding the question entirely. "It’s..." He pauses, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It’s a story for another time, yeah?"
Charlie studies him for a moment, his hand stilling against Nick’s hair. He can see the tension in Nick’s posture, the way his jaw tightens and his shoulders stiffen just slightly. Whatever the story is, it’s not an easy one.
"Yeah," Charlie says softly, his fingers resuming their gentle movements. "Another time."
Nick turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting Charlie’s. There’s gratitude there, and maybe a hint of relief. He leans up to press a soft kiss to Charlie’s jaw, murmuring, "Thank you."
Charlie shakes his head, offering him a small, understanding smile. "You don’t have to thank me," he says. "Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen."
Nick’s smile is faint but genuine, and he nods. "I know you will," he whispers, letting himself relax against Charlie again.
They fall asleep together, limbs tangled in the soft sheets, their breathing syncing until it feels like one. Nick’s arm drapes protectively over Charlie’s waist, and Charlie’s head rests against Nick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They’re utterly, beautifully together—truly together—for the first time.
Their dreams mirror each other, their subconscious minds somehow weaving the same narrative, a gentle thread tying them closer even in sleep. It’s peaceful. It’s serene.