Work Text:
Charlie Spring has a love-hate relationship with Leeds City Station. He’s certainly had enough time to make up his mind. In the summer that Nick had started university, they had made a mutual decision to never go more than two weeks without seeing each other in person. So, every two weeks they alternate who gets to drag themselves half the length of England to spend two precious days together.
It's not cheap; they have a secret shared Monzo account, saving odds and ends of leftover money from student loans, birthdays and holiday jobs to make sure they can always swing the fare. Charlie thinks that between both of them they must be making a decent contribution to the profits of National Rail.
They had had the cards sent to Nick’s halls last year, and had each been silently thrilled when a thick, official-looking letter had arrived addressed to MR C F SPRING & MR N L NELSON. Nick had waved it around and started to say something about how good their names looked next to each other before Charlie had shut him up with a kiss.
Charlie doesn’t dare tell his Mum about it, knowing that it would lead to a lecture on overcommitment, and their age, and the dangers of ruining each other’s credit scores. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, though.
They had broken their rule this time: because of their conflicting exam diets, it had been a month since they had last seen each other. A month of constant evening facetimes and ducking out of the library for five minutes just to hear each other’s voices, to bemoan the fact that they had tried to be all grown up and sensible about things and ended up at universities on opposite ends of the country. Charlie doesn’t regret it, not really – he loves his course, his uni friends, loves the gritty anonymity of London. Sometimes, he can’t believe he gets to have all of that and still have Nick.
Everyone always made it seem like he would have to choose; he and Nick just seem to keep choosing each other.
Now, Charlie’s first year of uni is over, both of their exams are done and he has made the journey to Leeds to see Nick’s team play in a charity fixture with Sheffield. Then, apart from a brief visit home that they had scheduled, they would both be staying in Nick’s house in Leeds for the summer. Charlie is almost nauseous with excitement when he thinks of the summer ahead: living with Nick in the same city, the same flat. Waking up and falling asleep together every day. Time away from the loving but suffocating affections of his parents. Independence. Nick.
Absence must really make the heart grow fonder because this is the best the station has ever looked to Charlie. The sun is shining and there is an odd beauty to the river of commuters jostling their way through the ticket gates.
Charlie scans his ticket on the gate and heaves his suitcase behind him. He moved most of his things home from his first year halls the last time he visited home, and he was left with just the essentials he would need throughout the summer. Those, and two plates he had forgot to pack, which had been rattling ominously in his case for the entire journey.
Scanning the crowd, he spots Nick before Nick spots him. His boyfriend is broader now than when he first started at Leeds, filling out from a more intensive rugby schedule. Now nearly twenty-one, he looks more like a man than a teenager.
Sometimes, though, when he looks at Nick, he still sees flashes of sixteen-year-old he first fell in love with: in the shining of his eyes, or the part of his hair. Now, he sees it in Nick’s eager anticipation as he pushes himself up on his toes to search for Charlie in the crowd. As Charlie moves closer, their eyes meet. Nick grins and strides over to him, closing the gap.
When Nick first left for Leeds, they would cry every time they saw each other again after time apart, pent up love and frustration at their separation spilling over. They would slam into each other at train and bus stations, kissing tearfully as passing travellers rolled their eyes. Over time, and with practice, this has mellowed out somewhat. Now, all Charlie feels is joy and relief as Nick wraps him in his arms.
“Hi,” Nick breathes, swaying him from side to side.
“Hi,” Charlie replies, a thrill running through him.
Is it ever not going to feel like this?
Nick pulls back and kisses him gently. “I missed you,” he says, rubbing the pads of his fingers at the nape of Charlie’s neck, “so much.”
“I missed you too,” Charlie smiles, and raises a hand to ghost across Nick’s cheek. “What’s this, then?”
Nick’s cheeks colour and he raises a hand to rub his own face, where there is a new dusting of light auburn stubble.
“Thought I’d try something out.”
“And here I thought you’d just let yourself go.”
Nick laughs and prods Charlie in the side.
“I can get rid of it if you don’t like it?” He says, tone light.
“No no no!”
Nick laughs again, like he knows it’s Charlie’s favourite sound. “A fan, are you?”
“Maybe,” Charlie says, cheeks colouring slightly. He raises his hand to Nick’s face again. “It’s very, I dunno, masculine. I love it...” He runs his fingers lightly over Nick’s cheek. “Just don’t give me any stubble burn.”
Nick hums, and raises his hand to thumb across Charlie’s jaw. “Can’t be marking up this perfect skin.”
Charlie raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean on my face, babe.”
Nick huffs out a breath at that, pupils dilating as his thumb presses down.
Charlie realises they are now standing there and holding each other’s faces in the middle of the station. It is entirely possible their reunions haven’t mellowed out as much as he thought.
“You have an awful habit of turning me on in public,” Nick complains, his hand back to playing with the hair at Charlie’s nape.
Charlie laughs and kisses Nick once, hard, then steps back again. “It’s part of the job description. Come on, take me home.”
Nick drops a hand to take Charlie’s, and – against Charlie’s protests - uses his other to take the case. “If that’s part of your job description, then carrying your case is definitely part of mine- Jesus,” Nick huffs out as he lifts the case. “What’s even in here?”
“Oh, you know, clothes, shoes, spare plates…”
Nick shakes his head. “Remind me to do all the packing when we move in together properly.”
There’s that thrill again.
They make their way to Nick’s car, which is parked haphazardly in the short stay carpark. Nick hoists Charlie’s case into the back and Charlie winces as he hears the plates clank together. Charlie settles himself into the passenger side as Nick slips into the driver’s seat.
Before he can put his seatbelt on, Nick is leaning over the centre console and pulling him into a kiss. Charlie responds instantly, winding his arms around Nick’s neck and twisting as much as possible in his seat. The warm solid reality of Nick on his lips and beneath his hands feels like a miracle.
Nick pulls back to catch his breath and Charlie plants two pecks on either side of his mouth, not quite willing to leave it at that. Looking into Nick’s face in the natural light, he sees the shadows under his eyes.
“You look tired, love,” Charlie remarks, squeezing Nick’s hand where it rests on the console.
“Thanks for that.”
“Ruggedly handsome as ever of course, but yeah, tired. You OK?”
“I’m fine, I promise,” Nick says, turning to face the front, “just slept badly during exams.”
Charlie frowns, but leaves it at that. God knows he had had to pull a few all-nighters recently.
The car coughs to life and Nick leans forward to switch on the radio as they exit onto the main road. BBC Radio Four blasts out of the speakers, treating them to the tail end of The Archers theme tune. It’s an ancient car, with non-existent suspension and a laundry list of other issues; the radio has been stuck on the same station since halfway through Nick’s first year.
“Have you still not fixed that?” Charlie teases.
“Nope. Honestly, it’s kind of growing on me. I’ve been listening to a lot of Gardeners Question Time,” Nick replies, flicking his eyes over to Charlie and grinning.
Charlie smiles and reaches over to give Nick’s earlobe a light tug.
“I thought us young queer people were meant to be cool. Next thing I know you’re going to start wearing tweed and eating dinner at half five.”
Nick grabs Charlie’s hand before he can withdraw it and drops a soft kiss to the heel of his palm, eyes back on the road.
“I’ve always been lame, love-”
“True-”
“Shut it. Anyway, Darcy and Elle probably fill the young, cool, queer quota for the rest of us. You- well, you have your moments.”
“I think we’re probably both lame,” Charlie acquiesces, thinking about Darcy and Elle and their vigorous commitment to the London queer clubbing scene. Charlie is moving into the third room of their rented flat in Hampstead after the summer, taking the room of one of Elle’s course mates who was now graduating. Although he can hold his own on a night out, he is slightly concerned for his sleep schedule.
Nick has one hand on the wheel and the other on Charlie’s thigh for the rest of the drive, lifting it off occasionally to change gears as they wind their way through the city centre to the more residential area Nick moved to after first year. Charlie fills Nick in on his journey on the latter’s insistence – the crying child, the podcast he had listened to - despite the fact that they had been texting constantly throughout. Nick keeps glancing over at him at red lights and grinning when they make eye contact, his hand squeezing Charlie’s thigh reflexively. They’ve done some version of this journey, this conversation, countless times by now; Charlie could do it forever.
They pull onto Nick’s street. Nick’s housemates Kiera and Jordan are waiting for them on the step of the narrow terraced house that they have lived in since the start of Nick’s second year.
“Charlie!” They cheer as he clambers out the passenger side. He runs over and hugs them both. Although Nick is the only person who could make him traverse half the length of England as often as he does, his flatmates are a welcome bonus. Charlie has grown close to them in the past two years; they even have an active group chat that was originally started in Nick’s first year, when Charlie had enlisted their help to surprise him with a visit on their anniversary. Nick spends a not insignificant amount of his time trying to convince each of them to add him to it.
Kiera and Jordan drag him through to the kitchen, babbling about their latest updates and escapades. Nick trails behind them after setting Charlie’s case at the bottom of the stairs.
“You guys are never this happy to see me,” Nick complains.
“Nick, doll, you know we only keep you around for access to Charlie,” Kiera shoots back.
“And the baking,” Jordan adds.
“Oh god yeah, the baking.”
“Well, in that case, I’m going to take that banana bread to my room with me, and you three can stay out here and drink Jordan’s off-brand Huel,” Nick huffs.
“Yeah guys,” Charlie says, throwing an arm around Nick’s shoulders and dropping a kiss to his cheek, “he’s so much more than just a baker-“
“Thanks love-“
“-he’s also a decent shag.” Charlie continues, grinning. Nick narrows his eyes at him for a second in mock-outrage, before breaking and laughing along with the others.
They settle down around the kitchen table and Kiera produces a box of white wine, seemingly from thin air. They have three proper wine glasses in the house now – purchase by Jordan, who had declared it was a requirement of real adulthood - and make up the difference with an old jam jar. Nick swaps the glasses around so that Charlie has one of the stemmed glasses, taking the jam jar for himself.
“Can’t have my man slumming it,” Nick remarks.
“Mmm, exactly, not in my nature.” Charlie replies, pretending to examine his cuticles.
They grin stupidly at each other as Nick pours Charlie his wine, fingers brushing as he passes him the glass.
“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Kiera interjects, “but you do realise that is literally the cheapest wine we could find in Spar?”
*
Jordan and Nick have made fajitas for Charlie’s arrival, now something of a tradition on his monthly visits. It’s a predictable comfort in a safe environment, and Charlie heaps chicken onto his tortilla without angst.
After updating each other on exams, and summer plans – Kiera is staying in the house too, keeping her bar job for the summer, and Jordan is spending a month interrailing before returning to take up a summer research post in one of the biomedical labs - they discuss plans for a camping trip in the lakes in July.
Charlie and Nick intermittently brush knees under the table, reluctant to lose contact. Nick gradually shuffles his chair closer over the duration of the meal until the warm line of his thigh is pressed up against Charlie’s. Charlie’s arm is splayed around the back of Nick’s chair as he eats his fajitas and drinks his wine one-handed.
The conversation flows, and by the time they have made it most of the way through the wine, the topic has moved on to Jordan’s stagnant love life.
“I just see a fit girl and I clam up,” he says, forlorn. “I don’t know how to approach them. Plus, it feels like everyone just wants a shag these days and, like, maybe I’m looking for the one, you know?”
“Aw Jordy,” Nick says, “you just have to be yourself and be honest about what you’re looking for! You can be charming when you want to be.”
Jordan rolls his eyes. “Nickolaj, no offense, but ‘have fun and be yourself’ is something my mother would say. I’m going to take my dating advice from people who have actual experience of the adult dating world. We can’t all shack up for life at sixteen.”
“It was just before Charlie’s fifteenth birthday, actually,” Nick corrects him, grinning and tapping twice on Charlie’s leg under the table. Charlie rolls his eyes whilst trying to suppress a pleased smile: Nick has always been proudly vocal about their status as childhood sweethearts.
“Even worse,” Jordan says, “you’d think by now he’d be old enough to know better.”
Nick and Jordan continue ribbing each other as the group polish off their fajitas. Eventually, Charlie social battery runs flat and he starts yawning, the train journey and three weeks’ worth of exams catching up with him. Kiera and Jordan are embroiled in an argument over the last tortilla on the other end of the table. He leans more of his weight into Nick’s side.
Nick drops his lips to Charlie’s ear. “You tired, love? Shall we skip the washing up and go upstairs?” He whispers.
“I heard that!” Jordan exclaims, gesturing with half a tortilla. “Am I fuck doing all the washing up myself.”
“Shut up, Jord,” Kiera says, but she is smiling at him relatively fondly. She turns to Nick and Charlie. “On you go, lovebirds, I know you haven’t seen each other in ages. We’ll tidy up.”
“Thanks Kirry,” Nick says, ignoring Jordan’s exaggerated sighs, “got to get this one to bed.”
“Aye, I bet you do,” Jordan mutters from the other end of the table, crossing his arms. He breaks the act to give Charlie a wink.
Nick shoots him the finger and grabs Charlie’s hand, who shouts out his thanks as Nick drags him up the stairs to his room, grabbing his case as he goes.
Nick’s room is an attic conversion on the top floor of the house, with a sloping ceiling and a small bathroom across the hall. The same fairy lights from his room at home have followed him here, and are strung along the wall at an angle. The room is tidy, although Charlie can see some clothes shoved haphazardly under the bed and the hoover sitting behind the door; despite Charlie’s repeated reassurances that he doesn’t have to go to the effort, Nick always insists on tidying up before his arrival.
Nick closes the door behind him and they are finally, blissfully, alone. He looks up at Charlie, a little flushed from the wine.
“Hi, roomie,” Nick teases. “Thought I’d never get you to myself.”
“Hello, flat acquaintance,” Charlie says with a studied nonchalance. He isn’t going to give Nick what he wants just yet.
“Fuck off, I know you’re excited too.”
“I suppose so…” Charlie admits, holding out until he makes eye contact with Nick, and then breaking out in a smile that feels like it might crack his face in two. “I can’t believe we have the whole summer. It still doesn’t feel real.”
“I know, wonder what on earth we’re going to do with ourselves…” Nick says, tapping his chin and casting his eyes around the room as he steps closer.
Charlie laughs, delighted, and throws himself on the bed with a flourish, patting the space next to him. Nick is across the room quickly, and flops down into the gap. They lie facing each other for a second, just looking, before Charlie places a hand on Nick’s stubbled cheek and closes the gap to kiss him.
Sometimes, these first moments remind Charlie of a younger Nick too. The easy, uncomplicated affection that Nick shows him when they kiss and touch. The slow swipe of his tongue as Charlie parts his lips to deepen the kiss. The smell of him, clean and fresh and Nick.
Charlie pulls back. “I love you, by the way. Like, a stupid amount,” he whispers into the space between them. “Realised I hadn’t said that yet today.”
“I love you too. So, so much.” Nick replies, and Charlie’s chest aches at the open sincerity of his voice. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Charlie can feel the warm ghost of his breath as he speaks.
Nick rolls over so he is above Charlie, most of his weight shifted off to the side, and kisses him. He puts a hand on Charlie’s hip; Charlie’s shirt has ridden up slightly and Nick strokes the exposed skin with his thumb. He’s always so warm, and Charlie can feel himself melting into the bed. He responds by pushing up Nick’s shirt and dragging his nails lightly up his back as he goes. Nick makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and briefly kisses him harder before speaking.
“Are you up for it tonight, love, or are you still sleepy from the train?” Nick asks, giving him another peck to punctuate the question. “We can just do cuddles and bed if you’re tired; we have all the time in the world.” For all their banter and roughhousing with his flatmates, when they are alone he is indescribably gentle.
Charlie shakes his head. “I’m not tired anymore; I just want you,” he admits. Charlie always misses this intimacy desperately when they are apart. They do plenty in between, of course - exchanging dirty texts, and pictures, and video calls. Nothing compares to the real thing, though.
Nick kisses him again, slipping a leg between Charlie’s. Charlie pulls at him so more of Nick’s weight is resting on him.
“Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you,” Nick whispers as he moves to kissing Charlie’s jaw and neck. He loops a finger in the collar of Charlie’s t-shirt and tugs it to the side so he can suck a mark at the junction of his collarbone. His voice is deep, and Charlie feels the same thrill he always does when he remembers that he is the only one that gets to hear Nick like this. “A month is too long.”
It is.
“I want- I need you to fuck me. Please.” Charlie is a little surprised at his own admission - he had actually been staring out of the train window earlier, slack jawed, thinking about being inside Nick tonight. He had even texted him something along those lines, earning a string of increasingly ridiculous emojis in return. Now, though, he finds himself wanting to be covered in Nick: to be regarded and held and directed. It’s been a stressful month, and sometimes Charlie just wants to be manhandled a little.
If Nick is surprised too, he doesn’t show it.
“Whatever you want, darling.”
They kiss for a while, bodies pressed together on top of Nick’s duvet. They pause at points to slowly cast aside articles of clothing, ruining Nicks rushed tidying job in a matter of minutes. When they are down to their underwear, Nick sits back on his heels between Charlie’s legs. His cock is straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, a little wet patch forming near the head. He strokes a thumb across Charlie’s inner thigh before leaning over and across him to fish the lube out of his bedside table. Charlie runs a hand up Nick’s torso as it hovers over him, then takes the opportunity to bite lightly at his side, where he knows he is ticklish. Nick jerks and drops the bottle to the floor with a clatter.
“Char!” Nick laughs, “You are a fucking menace.”
“You were taking too long,” Charlie grins.
Nick rolls off to the side for a second to retrieve the bottle from the floor, then promptly pulls Charlie on top of him.
“You’re that desperate to get my fingers in you, hmm?” Nick teases, slipping his fingers below the waistband of Charlie’s briefs to squeeze his arse and pull apart his cheeks slightly.
“Always,” Charlie replies, grinding down where their crotches align. He can feel Nick, hard and hot, tighten his grip and jerk up his hips in response.
“Fuck, Charlie,” Nick sighs. “I missed you so much. All I’ve been thinking about is getting you back in this bed.”
Nick is always so vocal; his words wash across Charlie like a blue flame. It had been hard to get used to at first, when they were younger and first moved beyond kissing and shy touch. He knew, deep down, that was how Nick felt – he had never given him any reason to doubt it - but it would often be in contrast to Charlie’s own cyclical negative thoughts. Over time, though, as Charlie began to find his way back to the bold and confident person he was at his core, it had become one of his favourite things.
Charlie grinds down again, watching the flush bloom across Nick’s neck and chest, in stark opposition to his milky skin. “And now you have me here for the whole summer.” He whispers, brushing a finger across Nick’s collarbone to feel the heat rising from him. “Maybe I’ll just let you keep me up here so you can fuck me whenever you want, hmm?”
Nick’s hips twitch up involuntarily at that, and he flexes his hands on Charlie’s hips.
“God, Charlie.”
Charlie pitches forward slightly, bracing his hands on Nick’s chest as he continues to frot down, sliding the hard line of their cocks together through their boxers. The thin layer of fabric between them makes it feel illicit, thrilling. Nick is right – they have all the time in the world. Charlie wants to be fucked, but it doesn’t mean he can’t draw things out a little first.
“Do you like the sound of that?” Charlie asks. “Me waiting here all stretched out for you?”
“Yes, baby,” Nick breathes, slipping his hands up through the leg holes of Charlie’s briefs so that he is gripping his hips skin-on-skin. “You would look so fucking perfect. I’d make you feel so, so good.”
“I know you would, baby. You always do,” Nick’s hips jerk up again at the praise. Charlie leans a little closer and speaks in a low voice as he grinds down faster. “I’ve thought about it before, you know: me, waiting and prepped. You, coming back from rugby all dirty and keyed up, pushing your shorts down and fucking me until I can’t see.”
Nick throws his head back and groans at that, using his grip on Charlie’s hips to lift him up and set him back so they are no longer aligned. Charlie pouts a little at the interruption and reaches forward to swipe a thumb across the stubble under Nick’s bottom lip, which is currently caught in his top teeth.
“Alright there, love?”
“Fuck,” Nick breathes, drawing out the syllable, “I’ve literally never been better. Just trying not to come in my pants so I can fuck my gorgeous boyfriend properly.”
Charlie laughs and leans forward to bury his face in the crook of Nick’s neck.
“Sorry, I maybe got carried away.”
“No, that was… lets definitely do that one day. Very soon.”
Nick runs his hands up Charlie’s back and kisses him on the shoulder, then the neck. Charlie glides his down Nick’s sides, revelling in the smoothness of his skin. They stay like that for another few moments, kissing and touching, letting the tension build back up naturally.
“I think we need these off,” Nick says, pinging the waistband of Charlie’s briefs with his thumb. The snap of the fabric against his skin sets Charlie’s nerve endings alight. Charlie nods and climbs off Nick - the loss of contact oddly devastating - to wriggle his briefs off and drop them next to the bed. When he turns back, Nick has already pushed his own boxers down in his enthusiasm, still lying on his back, and is frowning in concentration as he tries and fails to toe them off one ankle. Charlie laughs and finishes the job for him, plucking them off and throwing them over his shoulder as he kneels on the side of the bed.
“It’s sooo sexy when you struggle to do basic tasks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. His sarcasm is tempered slightly by his obvious erection, which betrays him by twitching at the sight of Nick’s naked body stretched out in front of him. Nick is hard, his dick resting on his stomach, a bead of precum at the head.
“Shut it,” Nick says, wrapping a hand around the back of Charlie’s thigh before pulling him back to straddle him again. “Don’t forget the time you nearly gave yourself a concussion mid-orgasm.”
Charlie colours at the memory, the result of Nick’s oak headboard at home and Charlie being slightly too enthusiastic in throwing his head back during an intense blowjob. Nick looks far too pleased with himself now, though, so Charlie ducks down to suck a mark on his neck as he ghosts his fingers over his nipple. The combined sensation is enough to make Nick arch his back off the bed.
So predictable.
“Ok, ok, you win,” Nick gasps, pulling Charlie up his body slightly so that he is straddling Nick’s waist. Nick reaches over and uncaps the lube, proffering it up to him. “Can I watch you prep yourself for a bit, please?”
Charlie knows Nick likes it like this: likes the feel of Charlie’s weight on him, and the tease of Charlie’s hand moving where he can’t quite see it. Charlie likes it too; he loves seeing Nick lose control just from watching.
“So polite,” Charlie murmurs as he nods and takes the lube, slicking up his fingers before reaching behind himself to slip his index finger in up to the knuckle. Nick runs his hands up and down Charlie’s torso, pausing to feel the ripple of his abdominal muscles as he begins working himself in and out. Nick’s eyes are blown and dark. Charlie’s hand brushes Nick’s cock occasionally as fingers himself open; each time he is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and the flutter of blonde eyelashes, alongside the occasional twitching of his hips. Nick wanks him at a maddeningly slow pace as he goes, Charlie shifting his hips at the dual sensation.
They remain like that for what might be a few minutes, or an hour – Charlie honestly isn’t sure – maintaining eye contact as he slips a second finger in and groans. Eventually, Nick lets go of Charlie’s cock and reaches around to feel his rim where it is stretched around his fingers. Charlie pushes back with a whine at the feel of Nick’s burning hot hand on his skin, desperate for more.
“Charlie, god,” Nick sighs as he feels Charlie begin to scissor his own fingers, “you feel so fucking amazing working yourself open for me. I can’t wait to see you stretched around my cock.”
“Nick, please,” Charlie moans, “want you inside me. I’ve been waiting for it.”
“I know, darling, and you’ve waited so nicely.” Charlie can feel Nick’s voice vibrate in his core. “I’m going to give you what you want. Are you ready for another finger?”
Charlie nods emphatically.
Then, Nick is adjusting the angle of his wrist and pushing in at Charlie’s rim with his index finger so that it slips in next to Charlie’s two, filling him. Charlie gasps and bucks forward. It’s a relatively shallow intrusion at this angle, but the stretch, and the mental image of both their fingers pressing inside him together is delicious. It’s something they’ve done before a few times, prepping Charlie in tandem, and Nick knows it drives him wild. Charlie uses his free hand to grip the base of his cock, holding the tide of his orgasm back.
“Christ, fuck, Nick,” he pants, stilling his fingers to avoid any more stimulation for a moment as he gets himself back under control.
“Too much?” Nick asks, eyes searching Charlie’s face.
“Yes,” Charlie gasps, still pitched forward, “In a good way though, don’t want to come yet.”
Nick rears up to kiss him, biting at his lower lip. Charlie moans into the kiss, removing his fingers with a squelch to throw his arms around Nick’s neck. Nick lifts him gently and rolls them over so he is hovering above Charlie again. Charlie lets his legs drop out to the side and Nick runs a slow hand over his cock as eyes drag over Charlie, drinking him in.
“Fuck, I missed you so much, love.” Nick whispers as he pumps his hand. “I miss you all the time. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I missed you too,” Charlie gasps, “I love you.”
“I love you, baby. I’m going to make sure you’re nice and opened up for me.”
Charlie just nods, using his heels at Nick’s back to try and pull him closer. Nick drops a kiss to the side of his mouth, and again to his neck. He moves his way down to take Charlie’s cock in his mouth as he slips two fingers in to Charlie’s hole. The tight, wet heat of his mouth is enough to make Charlie buck his hips up. Nick uses his other hand to hold his hips to the bed as he gradually scissors his fingers and adds a third, sliding them in to the knuckle and crooking his fingers to brush Charlie’s prostate.
The sensation is electric, and Charlie chants Nick’s name. After a minute of his ministrations, Charlie is pushing at his shoulder.
“I’m ready, babe, I’m ready. Want you inside me now.”
Nick pulls off him with a pop, crooking his fingers once more before withdrawing them. He pulls himself up to his knees, jerking himself off a few times before dragging the head of his cock slowly down Charlie’s perineum and over his entrance, smearing precum as he goes. The tease is enough to make them both groan.
“Fucking hell, Nick, any day now.” Charlie whines.
“Cheeky,” Nick shoots back, face flushed. His hand twitches where it is resting on Charlie’s inner thigh and he takes a shaky breath. “You look incredible like this, all opened up for me,” he whispers. Then, he is pushing into Charlie, slowly, until he bottoms out. Charlie takes a deep breath, relaxing to let him in. Nick ducks down to kiss him.
“Ok?” Nick whispers into his ear.
“Yeah,” Charlie nods, “so good, baby. Move please.”
Nick pulls out and fucks into Charlie again, the slow drag of him making them both moan. It’s an awkward angle like this, with Charlie’s legs wrapped low around Nick’s waist. Nick tucks a hand behind one of Charlie’s knees and presses it up towards his chest before rolling his hips again. That does the trick, and suddenly Charlie is seeing stars. They continue like that for a bit, face to face and foreheads touching as Nick lies across the length of him, one hand hooked behind his knee and the other tangled in his hair as he fucks into him at a slow and steady pace, not having much purchase to go any faster in this position.
Their bodies are pressed flush and it provides Charlie’s cock with a delicious friction as he feels Nick’s abs tense on each stroke. He runs his hands across the topography of Nick’s back, feeling the muscles flex as his body moves over him; he knows every divot and mole by now after years of devoted study.
“Love your hands on me, baby,” Nick whispers into the space between them as he continues fucking into him.
“Nick, I- God, It’s so good, how is it always so good?” Charlie sighs as he relishes the feeling of his boyfriend on him, in him.
“Charlie, always going to make it good for you, I promise. So tight for me, beautiful,” Nick grunts, kissing him clumsily and picking up his pace a little.
A bead of sweat crystalises on Nick’s fringe and drops onto Charlie’s face. Charlie darts out his tongue to taste the sea-salt of it. He wants all of Nick; if he could find a way to crush their very atoms together, he would.
Nick’s eyes darken exponentially more at the sight.
“Jesus, Char, you’re actually going to kill me. Can I go faster?”
Charlie nods. “Please, please do.”
“I’m going to move you a bit, OK? Gonna have to pull out for a sec.”
Nick pulls out and shuffles up so that he is kneeling and sitting back on his heels again, flushed and chest heaving. He yanks Charlie down the bed by the hips, improving their angle and running his hands up the back of Charlie’s thighs so that both his knees are pushed up towards his chest and out. Charlie feels like he’s walking on air, being directed around the bed by his boyfriend like this. He reaches his arms up to grab one of the pillows by the headboard and wordlessly passes it down to Nick, who takes it and pushes it under him to help elevate his hips.
Then, Nick is over Charlie again, one arm braced next to his head as he uses the other to guide himself back inside; they both sigh as he sinks back into place. Charlie rakes his nails down Nick’s sides, savouring the quiver of his abdominal muscles as he does so.
Nick starts fucking into him at a faster pace now, angled up just so, and the room is full of obscene noises. Most of them are Charlie, to be honest, as he lets out low, punched out moans, one hand braced on the headboard above him and the other clinging firmly to Nick’s sweat-damp back. It’s relentless and gorgeous and exactly what Charlie wanted.
“Nick, fuck, Nick,” Charlie bites out between moans, “I’m close. Harder.”
“So good, Char, you take my cock so well.” Nick groans, somehow picking up his pace even more. “You look fucking amazing like this. I can’t believe you’re mine.” His eyes are fixed on Charlie’s now.
“Yours, I’m yours,” Charlie echoes, blooming under the intensity in Nick’s gaze. Because, it’s true. Because, he is Nick’s. And Nick is his. He feels alight with pleasure, and love, and lust, can feel it all coming to a head. “Nick, god, I need, I need…”
“Touch yourself if you need to, baby, want to see you come.”
Charlie nods and uses the hand that was gripping Nick’s back to take himself in hand, stroking in time with Nick’s thrusts. He quickly feels that telltale build up as he moves his hand faster. He can feel every point of contact with Nick, skin on skin burning, as he chases his release. He can tell Nick is getting close too, the hand that is gripped on the back of Charlie’s thigh tightening incrementally.
Charlie shouts Nick’s name as he comes, senses flooded, the hand not fisting over his cock now scrabbling around the bed for purchase. Nick threads their fingers together and pushes their joined hands back above Charlie’s head as he fucks him through it, whispering his own particular brand of loving filth as he watches Charlie come apart.
“That’s it, come on Charlie, let me hear you. Love watching you come all over yourself, baby. You feel so, so good.” Nick’s rhythm is getting more stuttered and urgent. “Oh, god, Charlie, I’m right there, can- fuck, can I-“
Charlie has regained enough presence of mind to know what he’s asking.
“Come inside me, want to feel it.”
That tips Nick over the edge. He makes a guttural noise as his hips still and Charlie feels him thicken and spill inside him. His hips make a few more aborted jerks as he braces himself over Charlie with one hand, riding the wave with his face buried in Charlie’s neck, his other hand still clasped in Charlie’s above their heads.
After a moment, Nick drops a kiss to Charlie’s neck and unlinks their hands. He pulls out gently before tipping his body to the side slightly and collapsing down half on-top-of and half next to him, an arm now splayed out over his stomach. Charlie lets his legs drop back down to the bed with a thud. They both pant for a second, getting their bearings back, and Nick presses another open mouthed kiss to Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie lets out a little giggle of disbelief as he begins to come back down to earth.
“Fucking epic,” Nick whispers, the mind reader. “One of our best I think.” He holds his hand up as if for a high five.
Charlie startles out a laugh, and flicks him on the nipple. “You’re such a fucking boy sometimes,” he admonishes.
Nick just looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Do you have a better word then?”
Charlie really, honestly tries to think of one, but his post-coital brain is mush.
“Fine… It was pretty fucking epic. I am NOT high fiving you though.” He passes a hand through Nick’s hair. He’s so in love he could burst with it.
“Have it your way,” Nick grins, and kisses him again, “let’s get cleaned up, hmm?”
Nick rolls over and pushes himself up to stand, making his way across the room on visibly wobbly legs. He peeks out of the door before stepping quickly across the bathroom opposite his room, still stark naked. It’s only his room on this floor so he typically gets the bathroom to himself, although Kiera has been known to nip up and use it when Jordan is taking too long on his hair.
He returns a few moments later with a few damp, warm flannels, scrubbing one over his crotch before throwing it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. Charlie leans up on his elbows and admires his boyfriend in all his naked glory, illuminated by the streetlights outside as he pads across the room. Nick smiles back at him, hair pointing in every direction, and does a little twirl and bow before coming back over to the bed, both of them giggling. He uses one of the other flannels to gently wipe away the come on Charlie’s stomach and crotch, before throwing it back over his shoulder in the vague direction of the basket. He pauses, and waggles his fingers on the inside of Charlie’s thigh.
“Can I?” He asks, eyes hooded.
“Knock yourself out,” Charlie says, lifting his knees slightly.
Nick snakes a hand under Charlie so that he can feel his hole where it is still stretched and leaking, and dips a tentative fingertip inside. Charlie makes a little noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, and grips onto Nick’s shoulder.
“God,” Nick breathes, pressed up against his side, “I love this. Love you.”
“Me too,” Charlie says, and he does. Loves to have Nick so close, so unwilling to have an inch of space between them even after they have chased down their pleasure; Nick’s hands on him after the fact always feel reverential.
“You’re going to get come on your sheets,” Charlie observes, little aftershocks of pleasure bursting behind his eyelids as Nick brushes lightly against his hole and around the sensitive skin of his perineum. There’s no particular heat or intention behind the touch, but Charlie knows Nick loves to feel the traces of himself on Charlie.
“I’ll sleep in the wet patch,” Nick says gallantly, and kisses him lightly on the neck, then the mouth.
“You better, you horny bastard.”
The lie like that for a bit, swapping lazy kisses and touch. Nick’s thumb at Charlie’s hole stretches out the thread of pleasure and potential, but they let it simmer in the quiet, both exhausted. Eventually Charlie convinces himself out of bed to the bathroom to get cleaned up properly, tickling Nick’s feet on the way out as punishment for his overexaggerated pout.
When he comes back, Nick has scooted over to the other side of the bed, as promised, and is lying on his side setting an alarm on his phone. Charlie slips into bed next to him and crowds up into his back, stealing his warmth. Nick puts his phone up onto the bedside table and settles back into his touch.
He slips his arm over Nick’s side and splays his hand on his stomach, feeling him breathe. Nick throws his hand back so it rests on Charlie’s hip and Charlie’s knees slot easily behind Nick’s. Cuddling simpatico. They lie like that for long enough that Charlie thinks Nick must have fallen asleep. Charlie is drifting too, and can feel their breathing synching up.
“Guess what?” Nick asks suddenly, voice thick.
“What?” Charlie replies, on the verge of sleep.
“I missed you.”
“Yeah,” Charlie says, smiling into Nick’s shoulder. “You said that a few times already.”
“I mean it. It felt really tough this time.”
“It did,” Charlie agrees, tongue lazy with impending sleep. “Not so long next time, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Nick replies on a yawn. Charlie can feel his own eyes closing, the long day and mind blowing sex catching up with him, the warmth of Nick’s body lulling him to unconsciousness.