Chapter Text
You have arrived at your destination.
I stop to check three things before I turn off the engine in Tao’s beat up old Peugeot and push out in to the night air. Firstly, that my location sharing with Isaac has stuck on the drive over- for his benefit more than mine, given Geoff and I are still in the early stages of dealing with what some might consider my slightly self destructive tendencies. Tao may have leant me his car for the drive, under the slight misapprehension that I am heading for a date, but Isaac has been the one to watch my nervous pacing as I check my phone and debate out loud- to his horror- the veritable pros and cons of this particular Grindr hookup. This was our compromise.
Next is a two parter. The address is pinned in to Google maps where I’ve checked my arrival time four times already today, but the inherent obsessiveness that isn’t counteracted by copious amounts of behavioural therapy and meds has me checking the last message to make sure that I’m definitely in the right place.
Twenty four Victoria Street, Oxford building, grey door. See you soon gorgeous x
Checking has the added benefit of giving me another glance of his profile picture- slightly pixelated like he’s not massively au fait with technology, or at least the computational steps it takes to really perfect a Grindr profile- and zoom in a little closer. It’s not completely distorted, and I can see enough to know that they’re both pretty hot, but there is still a little thrill of anticipation in me when I look at it. It’s vaguely candid, like someone who knows them intimately caught them at the right time, and I wonder if it was Tara who took it. Given the blur, I guess it was more than likely Darcey.
The fact that they’re sort of friends of an acquaintance is the main reason I didn’t run for the hills at the first message. My tentative connecting the dots of seeing the same photo under the People You May Know banner, a completely locked down Facebook profile but a solid character reference from the girls when I bumped in to them at Elle’s place, had me returning the first reaching out with only a little bit of trepidation.
I’m hoping that this doesn’t get back to any of them, though. I’m not sure I’d ever live it down.
Back to this photo, though.
They’re both in shape, clear even with the pixel-blur, but in very different ways. One has the sort of body that would have me raising my eyebrow and sauntering over in a club; all firm arms and tanned skin and a height that I imagine would have me tipping my chin up very slightly as we flirted. He has a good smile, straight and wide, and hair that looks very effortlessly styled. The other… well…
He has arms that would have me passing out, but the rest is a little unclear. Crooked smile, muddy blonde hair, enough height that he can press his forehead in to his boyfriend’s crown, a bi flag smeared in war paint across his cheek. At least, I assume that’s what it is, the saturation is down a little low to be sure.
Even so, they’re clearly the kind of attractive couple that I could only dream of emulating. And they’re letting me in for a night.
It’s seven fifty-three, and we agreed that I’d come over at eight, so I finally click my seatbelt open and bring down the sun visor to give my reflection one last check. I spent about an hour sorting my curls out earlier, and they’ve at least kept their shape, but I’m more worried about my complexion. I pinch my cheeks enough to give them some colour, and bite a little bit of pink in to my lips. Don’t want them shutting the door in my face.
Except outside turns out to be bitterly cold this close to the river and by the time I am buzzing at the main door of the building and watching my own furious face in the mirror of the lift I look more flushed than I wanted. Still, better than pasty, I suppose. I knew I should have gone outside during Pride this year.
The ding of the lift arriving on the right floor is oppressively cheery, and I take a moment to steel myself against the doorframe of their corridor. Rejection is unlikely, the logical part of me knows, but my brain is anything but logical at the best of times.
Their building is one of those new builds that has gone up seemingly overnight in our town, although this particular block must have gone up while I was away at university. They knocked down the old council estate while I was away, and then the skyline was changed and the roads were busier and everyone on Facebook was suddenly bemoaning the good old days and the lack of infrastructure. I’d ignore it, if my parents weren’t the ones loudly sharing things on to my news feed.
They’d be furious to know that their son plans on getting railed tonight in the estate they consider to be the beacon of everything wrong with this town nowadays.
Number twenty four is towards the end of the corridor, down plush carpet that clearly isn’t the usual housing estate standard. My feet make soft swish-swish noises as I walk, phone clutched in my hand in case Tyler messages me to say they’ve changed their minds (even though they buzzed me in when I rang downstairs. Stupid brain.) Deep breaths, Charlie, this’ll be fun.
The front door swings open before I’ve even had a chance to raise my hand to knock and oh god if I’m not confronted by the most painfully beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.
From my limited conversations with Tyler on the app- outside of ground rules and expectations for tonight- I’ve gleaned the bare minimum of information about the two of them. Tyler’s a personal trainer- fairly highly sought after if his Yelp reviews and my assumptions about the mortgage on this place are anything to go by- while his boyfriend, Nick, is an postgrad. And boy, does it show. The arms that had me a little dizzy on a screen look like they’ve been sculpted by the gods in real life- threatening to rip the seams of a tight black t shirt as he braces a palm against the doorframe. He’s younger than I expected, not much older than me, and there’s a flush on his cheeks that I think might be betraying a smattering of freckles across his cheeks.
But his hair… fuck. I’ve never had a thing for redheads before but I’m damn sure I might start now. Low saturation does not do him any favours.
When he crooks a smile at me I am cursing every god or sign of fate out there that he’s not the one fucking me tonight.
“Hi…”
“Erm…” Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Er, hi.”
Smooth.
Tyler flashes me that crooked smile again, and if didn’t know any better I’d swear there’s a hint of nerves there.
Well, duh, he’s about to watch his boyfriend rail me and I’m standing in his doorway like a goon.
“Do you… want to come in?” he murmurs, and I’m stepping over the threshold and shucking my coat before my brain can betray me any more. He takes it from me without another word, and I’m left to glance around the space while trying to ignore his frenetic energy behind me. The room is open plan, wide and spacious and sparsely furnished, and the kitchen divots off to the left so I can’t quite see the full curve of the counter beyond a grey marbled breakfast bar. I can hear him though, Nick, opening a bottle of wine- corked!- and pouring it in to glasses. The glug breaks the silence, and I glance back at Tyler, who has shoved his hands in to his pockets and is finding something on his own shelf very interesting.
He’s a far cry from what I was expecting from the conversations we have had. From the confident guy who flirted and asked me if I was interested in joining them from the very first message.
My boyfriend, Nick, he’s never topped before. He’s perfect, and I think you might be the guy to help make him happy for a night, gorgeous x
Still, it’s not exactly a common social situation, and I’m hardly one to judge someone for being awkward at the best of times.
He really is quite stunning, though. If some sort of weird friendship forms from tonight maybe I can break it to him that the photos he’s using on social media really do not do him justice. Although, it would take a pretty good camera to capture him perfectly.
Maybe I can convince Nick to let me ride him, feel Tyler’s arms around me as he joins us too. The idea of that chest pressed against my back, those hands splayed all over me, while we both fuck his supposedly perfect boyfriend threatens to send me over the edge right here and now. At the very least I’m fairly certain that I’ll get to see him naked at some point this evening. That anticipation is enough, and I think Tyler senses the rush of excitement in me because he straightens slightly and fixes me another grin.
“We weren’t sure if you liked red or white, so I think Tyler’s pouring both-“
Wait, what?
“Nick, baby?” As promised, a glass of red and white round the corner, clutched in the hands of the second man in my most stared-at photo of the week. I’m too shocked to think clearly, so I take the red even though I’d actually prefer the white, and Tyler hands the other glass to Nick before I have a chance to change my mind. With his hands free, he approaches me like I’m an old friend- arms outstretched, he’s a hugger apparently- and reminding me of a mafia boss in one of Tao’s dated films.
“Charlie,” he breathes out against my neck like I’m a balm, pats me gently on the back. “Thank you so much for this.”
The this being letting his boyfriend fuck me because he’s a consummate top is left unspoken, and it feels out of place to say you’re welcome. Instead, I take a sip of my wine and try and act nonchalant.
It’s not like I’m a stranger to casual, borderline reckless, sex. It’s pretty much been a fixture in my life since Ben and I broke up over Easter. Hook-ups in club toilets, Grindr dates where neither one of us were under any delusion that the drinks were just preamble. It’s all a rich tapestry of the kind of behaviour Geoff is trying to cognitively knock out of me while Tao makes PowerPoint presentations of outdated statistics he’s plucked from the internet. This is different, this is something that I can’t even laugh with Elle about over a glass of gin when Tao has refused to join us on a night out. But it’s more exciting, regardless. I can feel something, bubbling inside me, and I’m going to chase that feeling to the very end.
Tyler has taken up position next to Nick, his arm wound around his waist like in their photo. If the photo of Nick did him a gross mis-justice, it had kind of the opposite effect with Tyler. He’s still good looking, and clearly in good shape, but there’s an edge to him in real life that doesn’t come across on screen. Lines around his eyes that expose more years than I expected; hair that isn’t quite as perfectly coiffed as I imagined, like he had just walked out of a salon but lacks the know-how for the upkeep. Maybe not my type as much as I thought.
I wonder if he chose the photo because it’s unflattering enough to Nick that it almost brings him down to his level. It’s a nasty thought, and I take another sip of the wine to temper it.
Nick’s eyes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to Tyler’s temple, reverential, and his body sways so minutely closer that it wouldn’t be noticeable except every sense in me is heightened by the gentle flush of his lips. They’re so clearly in love, and I am an outsider here to fulfil a fantasy for the both of them, but I’ll take it. He hasn’t even touched me yet and I am yearning for more.
“So… like I’ve told you already, my baby has never topped before. Bottoming isn’t something on the cards for me, but I’ll do anything to make him happy. So thank you for making this happen for us.”
“No problem,” I stutter between sips. It feels like the suave response, the right response, especially when I look up and Nick’s eyes are on me, finally. There’s… something… in those eyes. Something desperate. Something hungry. I take another sip of the wine. It coats my tongue, and I don’t want my breath to taste of Merlot when he finally kisses me, so I take the opportunity to break away from our awkward little cocoon by the front door, to reassert some of the confidence I’ve taught myself to fake these past few months, and to let them believe that they haven’t rattled me with that gentle heat between them.
My glass clinks when I place it down on a stone coaster- exactly parallel to the square vase that’s been artfully placed on the coffee table, my compulsive brain sings- and I am sashaying freely around the room, ghosting my fingertips along the top of the sofa and cataloguing them as I go. It’s minimal, gives nothing away, and I wish there was the tiniest window in to their lives that I could use to my advantage, toy with in my own head to help me fake the confidence. A note on the fridge, a favourite DVD left out of place. Something.
“Charlie?”
I like Nick’s voice, like what it does to me. It’s warm, not too deep, and kind. The sort of voice that would make you feel better on a rainy day. He’s close behind me, not close enough to be predatory, but I could hear his soft footsteps on the carpet as he stepped away from Tyler and approached my spot on the other side of the room. There’s a door a little way to my right, which very well might be a bedroom, and I am so tempted to ignore his gentle imploring and go and investigate- pretend that this is every day for me, the sex-god that I am.
No way they’d believe that, though.
Instead, I fall back on what I am good at.
Nick’s face never leaves mine as I cross the carpet to meet him by the sofa, pluck the glass from his hands and place it down on another coaster on the table. His hands hover, not quite touching my waist, when I reach up to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull him down to meet my lips.
Fuck, he’s a good kisser.
There’s something tentative about him, something sweet, and his palms skim my back and my waist as he leans in to our kiss and moans, quietly, somewhere deep in his throat. His lips are searching, seeking, soft, as we press and part and pull against one another until I can feel the pant rising in his chest and I know that I have him, exactly where I want him.
When he drops his chin to press open-mouthed kisses to my jaw, my throat- his hands gripping my waist tight as he pulls me flush against him- I risk opening my eyes to seek out Tyler in the room. He’s propped up against the breakfast bar, drink in hand, and he sips slowly as he watches us. Ravenous. He’s definitely joining us.
We talked about it, discussed ground rules and boundaries over messages. The if I’m comfortable with it palpable even through a screen. I’m here for Nick’s pleasure and his alone, but he is a shared thing. Mine for a night and Tyler’s forever and, with the hungry way he watches his forever tug at the buttons of my shirt, who am I to deny him?
Slowly, he places his glass down on the breakfast bar marble- coasterless- and moves towards us. If Nick was soft, careful, like a spooked thing, Tyler prowls. His territory written all over his face. Nick senses him coming, pauses his ministrations at the curve of my collarbone, and waits, frozen, while Tyler runs his palm up his back and threads his fingers through that perfect hair.
“This is all for you,” he growls as he tips Nick’s head back, exposes a pale, smooth throat, and presses a bruising kiss to the crook of his neck. Nick’s mouth falls open in bliss, his hands tighten at my waist, and the room falls in to silence that is broken by soft pants and the possessive, wet suck of lips on skin as Tyler claims him. Marks him while I press my hips close and hope that some day I can be worth a fraction of what he is in this moment.
“You boys go get started.” Tyler’s voice rumbles softly in the quiet. Commanding. I swear Nick whimpers at the sound. “I’ll be in soon.”
And then Nick is grasping my hand and meeting my eye properly, as hungry as Tyler, before tugging me gently towards the door I had my eye on earlier. A bedroom, as neat as the living room. He leaves the door open.
There’s a brief window where his body language changes again, nervous and unsure, and I take the opportunity to glance around the room and orientate myself in this space that I am about to become intimately acquainted with. Again, it gives nothing away; all throw pillows and grey duvet and white walls. The opposite of my cluttered, chaotic self. There’s something comforting about it.
There’s currently two empty glasses on my own bedside table, alongside three books I’m cycling through and my favourite night time earphones curled up in a neat coil. Nick and Tyler’s bedside holds nothing but a stylish lamp on one side, and a supply of condoms and lube on the other that I’m fairly certain are not usually on display.
Nick presses forward, bold even if the blush on his cheeks is extending down towards his chest, and I tug at the hem of his shirt to guide him closer. Let him see that I am open and ready for him whenever he wants. I’m kissing along the gentle curve of his collarbone when he finally speaks.
“You’re sure about this?”
His hands are hovering at my waist again, and I reach up to thread my fingers through his and steer his attention towards the bulge in my jeans.
“I’m sure.”
“If you change your mind-“
“Nick, I’m sure. Please.”
Something breaks in him, then, some resolve that has held him back, and he crashes towards me like an inevitable wave. Hands tugging at the last few buttons on my shirt, hips grinding, breath panting. A wild thing unleashed.
“You’re so pretty,” he gasps against the hollow of my throat. The sound takes me by surprise, the compliment even more so, and I am reeling from it when he reaches down to tug the hem of his shirt up, up and off, to be discarded on the floor. It’s the first sign of disarray I’ve seen since I arrived, humbling, but I don’t have time to dwell on it before I am magnetised towards him, my palms flat and exploring his bare chest. My shirt comes next, joins his in the heap on the carpet, and we are pressed skin to skin, hot and gasping, as he backs us towards the bed.
“Thank you, thank you,” he breathes as he eases me down, tugs at the fastening of my jeans and helps me to shuck them, belt thumping the floor as it falls. My boxers follow suit, and leave me shivering and exposed as he hovers over me, his jeans brushing my inner thigh as he parts my legs and edges down, down to the heat of me.
But the heat of me is nothing compared to the heat of his mouth- warm and wet and perfect as he takes me in one smooth motion. It’s almost too much, too sensitive, except his fingertips are bruising my hips, his hair falling across his forehead to taunt the sensitive skin of my hip, and the entire cacophony of sensations keeps me grounded on the bed as he licks a stripe along the length of me and moans.
There’s movement by the door, Tyler leaning against the doorframe as he watches this beautiful boy- his beautiful boy- work me in to a frenzy.
“Charlie,” he says softly, his voice an unwelcome interruption to this transcendent moment between us. Nick stills, hands tense. “Work him open for me. I don’t want to have to interrupt the two of you later.”
Oh, fuck.
I want this boy around my fingers almost as much as I want his cock inside me, and when he hollows his cheeks and sucks, hard, I’m gripped by the fear that I will come too soon, reduce myself to over-sensitivity and torch whatever this night might have brought us. My hands find his hair and I tug gently, enough to pull him off of me and meet my eye.
“Hey.” His throat sounds raw.
“You’re wearing too many clothes for my liking,” I murmur. Confident, sexy Charlie, the one who leads men by the hand to dark corners and toilet cubicles, has finally made an appearance, it seems.
“I’ll fix it,” he breathes, words hitching in his throat. He’s frantic and panting as he tugs at his jeans, deliciously tight, and scrambling to get them off and out of the way while I toy with the bottle of lube on the bedside table. I am casual, and weightless, as his eyes rake over me, over the movement of my wrist as I flick the bottle open and beckon him close.
“Have you ever opened yourself up before?” I whisper against his lips when he settles in my lap, thighs braced either side of my hips. The size of him is dizzying; not just his cock, which is twitching in anticipation between us, but the broadness of his frame, the expanse of his chest looming over me. I should feel scrawny in comparison, small and frail, but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel powerful instead. Softens my edges. Makes me bold.
He presses a chaste kiss to my lips.
“A few times. Tyler… he likes doing it for me.”
“Can I?”
He nods against me, the tip of his nose dragging up and down my cheek as he gasps a little. The position of him, the angle of his hips against mine is good, I can work with this without breaking the closeness, and I pierce the heady silence with the obscene sound of lube, first from the bottle and then warming it between my fingers.
“Stay still, for me, baby.”
If the repeat of Tyler’s pet name bothers him, he says nothing, but presses his lips against mine again as I slip my hand between us to seek out my goal.
Nick makes all the right noises as I probe and explore and ease him open. One finger, then two, until he is gasping and clenching around a third and begging to return the favour. I am not about to protest. And if I thought he was responsive to my touch it is nothing to how he responds to touching me as he reorientates us on the bed for better access. We’re pressed up close, hot and panting, cocks sliding together in delicious friction as he works me open and works a bruise in to my throat. The angle of him, the way he dips his head to nip and suck at the sensitive skin in the dip of my collarbones, lets me glance back at the open door. Tyler is gone again, has left us alone for now, and I arch my back off of the bed when he hits the right spot, moan loud enough that I hope it can be heard from the living room. From where I know he’s waiting, baited breath.
Although inexpert, Nick’s fingers are magic, and I am a writhing mess by the time he crawls back up on the bed enough to take his place between my thighs and kiss me. I wasn’t expecting this, chests pressed together, this moment of panting and moaning in to one another’s mouths as his gaze flickers to my face and waits for me to nod. Once, a silent pleading, then he’s fumbling for a condom and hissing quietly, hypersensitive and reactive to every glimpse of a touch.
I’m not ready for the moment he pushes in to me, slow and drawn out. Not physically, not the stretch that burns for just a moment and then mellows to an exquisite ache. I’ve been around enough, worked my way through enough one night stands.
It’s the way Nick looks at me through it all, eyes misty and a little dreamy, that has me choking back a sob as he bottoms out, bites his lip.
“Fuck,” he hisses, presses his forehead to mine. “You feel amazing.”
I hum against his lips in response, roll my hips and make him gasp again. It’s too easy, to make this boy moan, and every hypercritical synapse in my brain has me screaming that I get one chance, here and now, to heal a little of my broken self-esteem.
Bed springs squeak with every roll of his hips (I would have assumed a memory foam mattress, given the look of the place, but I’m not about to judge) and if I thought he was vocal before he is almost delirious now; a loud, babbling mess as he licks in to me and thrusts without rhythm. It’s divine, and I feel untethered even with the weight of him on top of me.
He’s still mumbling in to my skin when the floorboards creak, and the excitement builds somewhere in my gut. Nick is beautiful, and I am feeling him come undone on top of me, but there is something about the thought of Tyler joining us- the forbidden night that I won’t ever talk about- that tips me over the edge of excitement and tumbling in to white mist of exhilaration. Nick doesn’t notice, at first, he’s too busy rolling his hips against me in slow, experimental thrusts, but he stills when the bed dips and Tyler slips a palm across his thigh, delivers a sharp smack to his rear, and crowds in close.
“You’re so gorgeous like this, baby,” he croons and, just like that, I am a visitor in their home again. An onlooker in their relationship as Tyler takes a fistful of Nick’s hair and bends him back to meet his hungry lips. His clothes are somewhere on the floor with ours, his body on display and so, so incomparable with Nick’s, even if I would have appreciated him all the same if this were some ordinary moment after a loud bar. “Condoms?”
Nick hisses as Tyler spreads his palms over his chest, fumbles for the lube and the condoms amongst the sheets and then he’s meeting my eyes again, lips parted, as Tyler takes his position behind him.
Fuck, his face is gorgeous. All open emotions and bitten lips and floppy hair curtaining warm brown eyes. His hands grip my thighs, push my legs up as Tyler builds a rhythm for us all. It’s brutal, and hard, and the room is filled with the slick noise of quick thrusts and Tyler’s moans, Nick’s whimpers and my overworked breath as I watch the way they are together and catch the aftershocks of pleasure as Nick’s hips bear down on me in a messy rhythm.
“Touch him, baby.” Tyler’s voice is deep, commanding, as Nick wraps his hand around me and works me towards the edge of bliss with them.
Then, there are no words, no cognisant thoughts as Tyler arches his back, face red and drills his hips in to Nick. The movement forces Nick to lean with him, head tipped back against his boyfriend’s shoulder, and shifts his hips enough to hit the exact right spot for me to be seeing white and spilling over his hand and my chest as they both pant over me.