Play It Again, Charlie (43 page)

Charlie's mouth was dry, his body weak and shivering, his only sure action holding Will to him. He heard a buzzing in his ears, distant swearing, and hard, fast breathing.

Will wouldn't get carried away, he tried telling himself, his movements slow, heavy.

Except that Will had almost fucked someone on his balcony, in full view of the world, so yes, Will would, his mind answered. His whole body went tense, and suddenly he was so fucking
hot
he couldn't stand it.

Now his hands wouldn't stop moving, petting gently over Will instead of pushing him away. Sliding over bare skin and soft hair until he could feel tremors under his fingertips.

“Nothing bad will happen,” Will was pleading, sucking wet patches over the top of Charlie's shirt, at his neck. “I swear to you. I will
bet
you, anything you want.”

“Don't say that.” Charlie frowned at nothing, more than buzzed, a little hypnotized by the feel of his thumb at the back of Will's neck and Will's hand slipping into his jeans.

“Anything,” Will repeated firmly, for emphasis, or to trap him because Will
was
clever, whatever he thought. He knew hearing that would drive Charlie crazy. He might even mean it, but the idea of Will meaning it was just too much to take.

He couldn't help nodding, barely a response, but enough to bring Will's mouth to his jaw, for Will to make a frustrated sound until Charlie let him pull his head down so he could slide their lips together.

Will moved restlessly. He might have been still for hours of Hitchcock, but he was panting and impatient now. He pushed again, and Charlie let himself be pushed, with kisses, with Will's hand on his cock, into the darker space between the buildings.

“Will... .” He'd never had to fight this hard to be reasonable. But then, he'd never had anyone so desperate to blow him. It should have felt dirty, they were in a narrow walkway filled with garbage, but Christ, Will was kissing him, kissing him like it was a reward, and talking between each one, and Charlie couldn't think, but Will might be a genius.

“Let me. Anything. I can show you. Please.” Another time, another place, that tone would have meant Will was panicking, worried, and Charlie couldn't have that. Will said, “
Charlie,"
like it was another sugar-coated shot at his lips, and Charlie swept his hands up, grabbed the sides of Will's face, and kissed him back.

He couldn't breathe and didn't want to. He stumbled and didn't care, because then Will's mouth was gone and Will was sliding down to the ground to stare up at him. It was too dark to make out his expression. Charlie wasn't sure he would have been able to read it anyway.

Will could have planned that too, and Charlie heard himself whispering “Smartass” in a rasping voice, when what he'd
meant
to say was that the dark didn't make this any safer. Will
laughed
at that, or choked back a reply, and then his hands were tearing at Charlie's jeans, getting them out of the way, and his fingers were curling into feverishly hot skin and short hair.

Charlie gasped, somehow still surprised. Will's breath was warm and wet.

“Need to get you drunk more often,” he remarked, husky-voiced and pleased.

“I'm not drunk,” Charlie enunciated clearly, then he put a hand out to the wall as his legs nearly gave out. “Fuck, Will.” He felt heavy, high, and groaned. The sound made him flush, embarrassed all over again after all, shaking at the first flick of Will's tongue.

Will wasn't shy anymore. He swallowed around Charlie's cock, then hooked his fingers into Charlie's jeans to drag him forward. Charlie's other hand hit the wall, brick scraping his palm. Beer or Will made him weak, unfocused, except for his cock, and Will's mouth, and his cock in Will's mouth. He thought,
Will
, said it out loud, and then
fuck
again, just like Will always did. “Fuck, Will, please.”

His voice was rough, not humiliating at all when it made Will's fingertips push into his skin. He pulled back, pulled just enough to use his tongue to drive Charlie crazy, to draw another groan from him, and then he was firm lips and tight suction and a determination to make Charlie come down his throat. Public or not, it was all he seemed to want.

“Will.” Charlie's head went back, and Will hummed his answer, as good as a finger inside of him, as good as a thumb urging drops of pre-come from the head of his cock. Charlie's legs spread, his hips came forward, and Will took it, easy. It was his hands that revealed tension, gripping Charlie tight, holding him there, leaving bruises that made Charlie lick his lips.

Good. So good, and he suddenly wanted Will to come, to feel Will's body give beneath him even as his own was taut and hot. He wanted to suck Will off, and with his mouth buzzing, the words slipped out.

“Tonight, Will, I'm going to strip you naked and suck you off. On the floor, in my bed, I don't care.” He thrust, and Will's hands clutched at him, slick, sticky. He moaned around his mouthful, and Charlie was still so
hot
. Close, not close enough. “I want your hands in my hair and I want to shove you down and... .”

He cut himself off with a strangled sound, when Will's momentary stillness and aroused groan weren't quite muffled by the dark. His words echoed between them, left him panting and Will hungry. Will shifted, pushing up and dropping a hand, probably to his lap.

“No!” One of Charlie's hands left the wall, landed on top of Will's head. Soft, soft hair like silk had him repeating himself, the words coming faster as Will got him closer to the edge. “No,” he ground out, fighting back the rest,
no, let me
, but Will's hand came back to him, and then he whimpered.

Charlie shot a look out through the shadows, but they were alone. He wondered if Will would have stopped if they weren't but let the thought fall away. Will risked too much just to show him... he wasn't sure what. Anything, Will had said, though Charlie wasn't going to demand that, but, “Yes, Will,” escaped his throat anyway. “Good. Will, yes. Will,
please
,” and his fingers tangled in Will's hair.

“I want you to stay the night, so I can wake up and... .” His tongue felt heavy, his words slow, but he could hear himself, what he was saying. He was outside, they were in public, and all he could think about was Will waiting to hear the rest. “In the morning, Will, I want you... spread out... .” Fuck, Will's rhythm slipped, got faster, and Charlie pulled at his hair. Not to hurt him, just to hold on. “Face to the pillow... . My mouth... .” His tongue. He could see it. Hear it, Will saying, “Fuck me, Charlie, I can't wait, you sexy bitch!” and then crushed, choking out, “Daddy” when Charlie finally pushed into him.

Charlie almost fell forward, and pawed at Will's hair as he came, at the wall, his grip desperate. Will was swallowing and Charlie let out a confused sound, almost a growl that shocked him even with his mind spinning and his body loose.

Hot. His skin still felt hot, not drunk no matter what Will said, at least not on liquor. Will was moving, speaking softly as he cleaned Charlie up. Each touch meant hints of pain, but Charlie didn't stop him, didn't even move until Will slid his zipper back up and got to his feet.

Will's breathing was heavy, his breath scented with come. His knees would be dirty, possibly bruised by cement. He put one hand at Charlie's cheek when Charlie didn't answer him, and his hand was shaking in that way that meant arousal or adrenaline.

Charlie looked at him, at what he could see of his little smile, and then pinned him to the wall.

“Holy shit!” Will exclaimed into his ear, surprised, and then he rolled his hips against him with his head to the wall and his cock hard against Charlie's side. “Yes, Charlie, yes.” He gave in without any protest at all, turning his head to let Charlie kiss the skin of his neck. Will's pulse throbbed under his tongue, spiked faster when Charlie's hands rucked up Will's shirt to expose the flat skin just above the waist of his jeans.

Will's hands went to Charlie's hair, his shoulders, clinging to him in a way that made Charlie's blood rush in his ears. He shifted forward, popped Will's fly, then moved his head so he could swallow Will's greedy little hiss.

Will's dick was right there, straining at wet fabric, and Charlie couldn't kneel, not on cement, but at the touch of his hand, Will's kiss got rough, frantic.

“
Public
! Fuck, Charlie.” He pulled away to gasp out into Charlie's shoulder, turning to let his scruff leave its mark on Charlie's throat, and it was too soon, but Charlie felt himself smiling as he slicked up his hand with steadily leaking droplets and stroked Will's cock hard, the way he wanted to suck him.

Will flailed, said his name before slapping a hand to his back again, before curling around him and moaning.

“God, Daddy, that's it. Oh! Oh, Charlie, I can't... I didn't mean... .”

Charlie shut his eyes at the stab of pleasure that word gave him and shook his head. He slipped a hand between Will and the wall, up his back until he found that spot where his thumb could stroke over Will's nape, the bumps of his spine, and Will shuddered and went weak all over again.

Charlie urged Will's head up and opened his eyes in time to see that Will's were wide, panicked. Charlie shook his head again, urgently so Will could see, and bit at Will's bottom lip until Will's mouth fell open. Will's hands fluttered, uncertain, anxious, and then he let Charlie kiss him. His eyes were closed, his cock thick and hot. With one sigh, every inch of him was there for whatever Charlie wanted.

Daddy.
The word itself seemed to hurt Will, to create the same pang in the pit of his stomach that Charlie felt, a bolt of something too strong to think about yet. Moments like this it felt true, like he owned a part of Will, or all of him, or as though Charlie had the right to do this to him. Whatever Will meant by it. Charlie didn't know.

Anything, Will had said, and Charlie kissed his mouth open and his head back, kissed until he needed air and Will was groaning. Then Charlie pulled away, frowning, as Will opened his eyes.

“Oh, Charlie, you... . How can you do this to me?”

Each stroke of Charlie's hand made Will's voice rise in desperation, but even that was in whispers. He licked at his lips, and Charlie couldn't read what his stare meant.

“Charlie, please. I... . It... .” Will's hands could not be still, and Charlie moved his thumb, petting across the skin at Will's nape, back and forth, faster as he jacked Will with his other hand. He looked away from Will's eyes, dropped his head to suck at Will's throat, until Will was gulping air, breathing wetly and thrusting away from the wall.

He was trembling.

“Will.” Charlie squeezed him, panting into the warm, bruised skin under his mouth at the quiet, breathless answer. He couldn't ask for it,
couldn't
, but Will had to know.

“Y... yes... ? Oh, Charlie.” There weren't any jokes, any movie quotes, not after what Charlie had done to him, made him feel stupid or wrong for saying what he wanted to say, and Charlie glared though Will couldn't see it. Will didn't know after all, wouldn't say it, and Charlie couldn't ask. He frowned at the wall, at nothing, and pumped Will's dick and put his mouth to Will's ear.

“I want you to come now, so we can go home. So I can do this to you again.” Just the facts. The truth. Will's body went still, and then he shuddered hard.

“Charlie!” His voice broke, cracked. Charlie didn't stop stroking him, not at the hot jet of come, not until Will jerked and he turned and dropped his head to murmur into Charlie's shoulder.

“That's enough, Charlie.” His voice was raw. Charlie thought his might be as well, if he spoke. He didn't, only stood there, letting Will rest against him. Will's shirt was already stained. Charlie wiped his hand clean on it and knew he'd be giving Will his jacket for the train ride back.

His thumb moved, back and forth across Will's neck, higher into the edge of his hair, and Will turned further, curled into him without lifting his head.

He'd made Will come just by speaking. By telling him to. Later, when he was sober, Charlie was possibly going to worry. For now he frowned, and didn't force his hand to stop. Will's breath hitched.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” It didn't sound like what he'd intended to say. Charlie could feel Will wet his lips, but once again, Will wasn't talking movie quotes or worrying about what Charlie had done, was doing, to his hair. “I mean, nothing bad happened, did it?”

Will had a neat way of putting things when he wanted to, and the idea that Will had thought Charlie would think he was stupid was laughable. Not that Charlie was laughing.

Will could have been asking him a lot of things with that, and there were too many wrong answers trapped in Charlie's throat and only one thought spinning through his mind.

Will hadn't said it again, but Charlie had heard it anyway.

“You don't know anything about me,” he said breathlessly, and the sound Will made wasn't a laugh, wasn't a whimper, was mostly drowned out by the noises from the kitchen next door. Mostly. Charlie still heard him, quiet and humming and shivering in his arms.

“So tell me.”

“I've decided what I want.” Will swooped back into the bedroom and set a cup of coffee on the nightstand. He took a sip from his own cup and raised his eyebrows over the rim. Charlie raised his eyebrows back and felt a faint spark of heat, but other than that he refused to react to Will's choice in coffee cup. He wasn't in the mood to do much of anything but stay where he was.

Knackered
, that was what Buffalo had said when they had finally felt presentable enough to head back into the bar. Will had been in Charlie's coat and leaning on his arm with a smile that had been embarrassingly gleeful.

There was a trace of that glee at the edge of his mouth now, like he had a secret that wasn't going to stay a secret for much longer. Charlie studied him for a moment, then leaned back against the headboard. Will stuck his lip out for a second in a pout at his ploy with the cup with Mark's picture on it being ignored, and then he was smiling again in a way that no one could misinterpret.