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“Ready?” Charlie asks, squeezing Nick’s hand, located securely in his.
“For what?” Nick sighs, grinning.
They’re on the pavement, just outside a large house not far off campus. Inside, seemingly hundreds of bodies. Nick’s classmates. Mere days away from graduation. So, of course, a massive party is called for.
“Your last uni party.”
Nick turns to his boyfriend. Presses a quick kiss to his lips. “You do know you’ll still be in uni, yeah?”
“Oh my god!” Charlie yelps suddenly, chuckling. “Are you gonna be one of those old creepers who crash uni ragers even after you’re an actual adult?”
“It’s not crashing if my boyfriend invites me.”
Charlie playfully rolls his eyes. He tugs Nick by the hand, heading for the door. “Officially uninvited, by the way. Creep!”
“We’ll see about that,” Nick says smugly, as they cross the threshold. “Brat!”
The bass of the music is palpable. Every beat felt from heels of feet to the very tops of heads, vibrating up and out. An old song, but a party classic. So much so there’s a group of girls in the center of the main room, dancing in a tight circle and shouting the lyrics across the void to each other. Most of them have disposable cups in each hand. As Nick and Charlie weave through the crowd, one of the girls stumbles out of the formation and into Nick’s side.
“Oh, so sorry!” she’s quick to cry over the music and pseudo-singing. Her first concern appears to be making sure her drinks are still intact.
“Rowen?” Nick questions, squinting into the dim lighting.
“Oh, shit!” the girl squeals, when she lifts her gaze to see who she ran into. She throws her arms around Nick’s neck in a hug. “It’s Nicholas!”
“Well,” Nick says, resigned to his fate, “good to see you too.”
“And Charlie!” Rowen screams joyfully, once she realizes who’s accompanying Nick. “You made it!”
“It’s been a while,” Charlie admits.
“Hard to be social when I stuck my head up sociology’s arse,” Rowen explains, gathering Charlie in her grasp for a hug. “Uni’s no fucking joke. Remember that when it’s your turn, babe.”
“Next year,” Charlie reminds her.
“Don’t fuck around,” she warns him. “Cause I almost found out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charlie humors her. He shares an amused grin with Nick.
“Ro, we’ll catch up more in a bit, yeah?” Nick asks, attempting a sidestep. “Haven’t even gotten drinks yet.”
With a shrill whoop in the air, Rowen yells as loud as she can, “Get your motherfucking captain a drink, you rugby bitches!”
“Oi!” From the kitchen, a face — Abe — peering around the corner close by. “Nelson’s made it!”
The smattering of buff lads in the kitchen cheer in unison, as Nick makes his way to the countertop filled with various alcoholic and mixer options. He’s still got a hand attached to Charlie, but he’s had enough practice pouring drinks without letting go of his boyfriend by now. It gets harder when the rugby boys take turns patting him on the back and jostling him about the shoulders. They congratulate him on the stellar season, his last as captain. And when they’re done heaping praise on their leader, they say their hellos to Charlie.
“About fucking time, mate,” Abe teases, shaking his head. “Thought you weren’t coming.”
“Or chose coming of a different kind,” Jake says, laughing.
“Well, we all know how parties usually end for these two,” Mason quips, faking a gag.
“Yeah, please don’t defile my bed,” Corey pleads, taking a sip of his drink. He winces. “Again.”
It’s tradition for several rugby lads to rent this particular house and, thus, throw all the rugby-related parties of the year. Some of which Nick and Charlie might have disappeared from. Sometimes into an unoccupied room. Sometimes in a darkened corner. Sometimes slipping out of the party altogether, unnoticed.
“I don’t remember confirming it was your bed,” Nick deadpans with a straight face.
Corey looks to Charlie, wide-eyed. “I paid good money for that desk!”
“It is surprisingly sturdy,” Charlie jokes, adding a subtle wink.
“Well, time to sell it,” Corey mutters, before wandering into the crowd.
A rum and Coke for Nick. A whiskey and lemonade for Charlie. And after a little more harassment from the team, they venture from the kitchen and into the back room. So close to the end of the year, there’s sparse furniture remaining in the house. The back room has an ugly Victorian sofa that stays housed, year to year. And it just so happens to have an opening. Nick sinks into the upholstery, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist. Pulling him down, until he’s seated firmly in Nick’s lap. Charlie puts an arm around Nick’s shoulders, fingers sinking into his hair to stroke to the beat.
It’s quieter. Away from the music and the majority of the students. Less dancing and shouting, more conversations and a few couples kissing. Nick’s hand slips under the back of Charlie’s crop top. His warm palm is always welcome.
After a swallow of his drink, Charlie smirks in Nick’s direction. He raises an eyebrow. Bites his lower lip.
“What?” Nick asks. But he’s grinning innocently.
“If I didn’t know better,” Charlie says in Nick’s ear, “I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“No idea what you mean, darling,” Nick plays dumb.
Charlie snatches the cup from Nick’s fingers and takes a swig. He grimaces. “Holy shit.” Shaking his head, as if that’ll rid him of the taste, Charlie manages, “Did you put any Coke in that?”
Nick holds up his index finger and thumb, barely apart. “Maybe a bit.”
“I’d wager less than that.”
“A touch?”
“A touch?” Charlie repeats mockingly.
“If you say so,” Nick says, splaying his fingers at Charlie’s back. The tips fit just under the waistband of Charlie’s jeans.
When Charlie’s eyes meet Nick’s, brown irises travel downward. Until they’re clearly focused on Charlie’s lips. He smiles, but he doesn’t try to fight it. Quite the opposite, actually. He meets Nick’s mouth halfway between them. The kiss is slow, but hot. And apparently noticeably so, as someone nearby sounds a sharp whistle of approval.
“Nelson and Charlie!” A voice calls out. “Making out a party! Who’d’ve thunk it?”
The crowd erupts. Cheering, jeering, and everything in between.
“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds,” Laurence coos, slipping into the open space next to Nick. “Didn’t know you made it, Charlie.”
“Just got in a couple hours ago,” Charlie explains between sips of the strongly mixed whiskey and lemonade.
“Glad you could make it,” Laurence nods. “Someone else to babysit this one when he gets plastered.”
“Not if I get plastered first,” Charlie replies, like it’s a challenge. He takes it seriously and drains his drink, exaggerating a smack of his lips after his last swallow.
Nick leans in, planting another kiss on Charlie’s lips.
“You taste like whiskey,” he says lowly.
“And you taste like rum,” Charlie retorts. He quickly kisses Nick again, jumps from his seat, and starts towards the kitchen, before calling behind him, “Creep!”
Nick chuckles, shaking his head as he watches his boyfriend.
“You guys are weird,” Laurence says matter of factly. It’s not the first time he’s told them so.
“So we’ve heard,” Nick smirks, then takes a drink.
The drinks keep flowing. The music gets louder. The crowd gets bigger, if that’s possible. The house is full, seemingly every inch accounted for. Nick and Charlie are attached at the hip. They play beer pong and win. They look for constellations in the night sky through a telescope someone brought. Neither can keep their gazes focused enough to make out the supposed shapes. They sing a silly karaoke duet, leading the crowd in butchering the lyrics. Making up for their fumbles with laughter, they shockingly place third in the impromptu competition. They chat up the group of friends Nick made through years of being in the LGBT+ society, including Jade. She takes Charlie by the hands to the designated dance floor. She knows he’s only a dancer if he’s had enough to drink. The way he willing joins the grinding bodies, swaying to the beat, proves her instinct correct.
The rugby lads tease Nick on the sidelines, as he watches Charlie move effortlessly. He’s the epitome of beauty and he doesn’t even know it. Charlie likes to claim he’s not a dancer. He swears up and down he doesn’t dance. But when he does, Nick can’t help but take it in. It’s a gravitational pull between them, with Nick unable to train his eyes elsewhere. And tonight’s no different. Except they won’t do this again. Not here at Leeds. Not with these people — those that Nick’s come to know and befriend and love. Those that welcomed Charlie into the fold with open arms, no hesitation.
“Nelson, mate,” Abe ribs, “get a room.”
“Not mine,” Corey begs, “please.”
“You are drooling,” Jake chuckles.
Nick finishes his latest rum and Coke. He sets his cup on the counter, a graveyard of half-full beverages. And he weaves through bodies, between couples and around those trying to pull him in, until he reaches Charlie’s back. Pressing against him, Nick follows Charlie’s lead, as he wraps arms around Charlie’s exposed waist. Charlie sinks into Nick’s chest, not even having to worry about who it is. He already knows. He knew Nick would find him. He closes his eyes, melting into the warmth of Nick’s lips on his neck. They’re still amongst the wild crowd, dancing to the relentless rhythm, but they may as well be in their own world.
When the tune fades into the next song, Charlie turns in Nick’s embrace. They stay swaying as their lips meet, though their timing’s slow compared to the music. Not like they care. As those around them jump to the beat, sing about dancing on their own — though they’re all dancing amongst each other — Nick and Charlie dance close. Nick’s hands are on Charlie’s hips. Charlie’s arms draped over Nick’s shoulders. Foreheads pressed together, noses touching, and completely oblivious to anyone but each other. Like they’ve always been.
Breaking away from a kiss, Nick says at Charlie’s ear, “We should leave.”
Charlie looks up, judging Nick’s face. “You sure?”
Nick kisses Charlie one more time, an explanation. He nods, grinning, “Yeah.”
Charlie laces their fingers to stay together through the horde between the two of them and the front door. Nick leads the way, nodding at now-former teammates and smiling at friends and accepting the last congratulatory back pats of the night. Charlie watches his boyfriend work the crowd, his sweet charm radiating from him. Until they finally make it out of the door. Then Nick only has eyes for Charlie.
Nick puts an arm over Charlie’s shoulders, drawing him close. So Charlie gives in, snuggling into Nick’s side with his arms encircling Nick’s waist. He kisses Nick’s shoulder before they begin the walk back to Nick’s flat. It’s not far. They’re not in a hurry. The fresh air and stretching of legs along the pavements are slightly sobering. But they’re both still drunk.
“I cannot believe it,” Charlie says, looking up at his boyfriend. The tip of his tongue’s peeking out of his mouth. His eyes blink slowly. A crooked little grin plays on his lips.
“What?” Nick asks. He tries to gaze at Charlie, but they trip over each other’s feet and nearly tumble to the ground. So he focuses on the ground below to steady them.
“My boyfriend,” Charlie coos dreamily. “My boyfriend — I’m so proud of you.”
“Cause I out-drank you?” Nick chuckles. He pauses their walk to press a kiss to Charlie’s temple.
“You did not!”
Nick taps the side of his head, squinting. “Oh, but I did.”
“Okay, okay,” Charlie relents, raising his hands in surrender. “Maybe I’ll let you have it. Just cause you’re the graduation boy.”
“The graduation boy?” Nick laughs. “It’s not like being the birthday boy, Char.”
“It is if I say it is,” Charlie insists, gripping around Nick tighter. “That’s why I’m proud. My graduation boy boyfriend.”
“Boy boyfriend?” Nick finds this funniest of all, doubling over to laugh harder and clutch at his stomach.
Charlie giggles alongside him. He’s hiding his pink face behind his fingers. Like he’s suddenly bashful. He playfully pushes at Nick, “Shut up!”
Charlie pulls away, pretending he’ll keep walking and leave Nick behind. Nick grabs for his hands, weaving their fingers together. They’re facing each other, still and quiet on the pavement. Their twin smiles give them away.
“I love my boy boyfriend,” Nick murmurs. He brings their hands up to his chest. His eyes are dark in the night, but they sparkle anyway. “You’re adorable.”
Charlie smirks. “Now you really sound like a creepy old man.”
“Am I a boy or a man, Char?” Nick questions, confused. “Pick a struggle, darling.”
Nick hangs on to Charlie’s closest hand, tugging him into walking again.
Clutching to Nick’s arm, Charlie keeps up clumsily. “My struggle is …” He thinks for a moment. “I’m kinda hungry, actually.”
“I told you we should’ve gotten food before the party,” Nick reminds his boyfriend, smug. “It’s why you can’t walk a straight line to save your life.”
“I never do anything straight,” Charlie quips, giggling. He adds, “Not like you could right now either.”
“Alright,” Nick sighs. He nods toward the upcoming intersection of streets. “Pizza’s only two blocks away if we cut over now.”
“Mm,” Charlie hums, considering. “That does sound good.”
“C’mon then,” Nick instructs, guiding.
They get a pizza to go, large enough for the two of them, and bring it back to Nick’s flat. In a rare set of circumstances, Nick’s flatmates — all three of them — are expected to be out for the remainder of the night. But because the flatmates have been cleaning in anticipation of moving out next weekend, Nick and Charlie settle on Nick’s bedroom floor. They put a towel under the pizza box and water glasses in an attempt to prevent drunken spills on the carpet.
“Oh my god,” Nick mutters, exhaling. He’s on his back, limbs splayed out wide. His eyes closed.
“Too much pizza?” Charlie asks.
“I thought the crust would soak up the rum,” Nick admits. “The room’s still spinning a bit.”
Charlie shuts his eyes, trying to judge his own internal spinning. He whispers, “It’s not so bad.”
“Well, I did out-drink you,” Nick teases.
Charlie stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his arms. “You wish.”
Nick notices how Charlie’s crop top rides up a little higher with the arch of his back. He rolls onto his side, at Charlie’s thigh, and kisses the skin above Charlie’s waistband. Charlie sinks his fingers into Nick’s hair.
“Did I tell you how good you look tonight?” Nick asks softly, nosing at Charlie’s stomach.
“I believe so,” Charlie mumbles, grinning down.
Nick presses his palm to Charlie’s back, holding him in place. Kisses again. More.
Charlie gasps when Nick’s tongue dips into his exposed navel. A shiver travels down his spine.
“You still drunk?” Nick questions, face against Charlie’s skin.
“Probably,” Charlie whispers. “You?”
“Well, yeah, but …” Nick’s mouth follows the side curve of Charlie’s rib cage, pushing his top higher. “Fun drunk.” He settles between Charlie’s legs. “Not bad drunk.”
Charlie falls backwards as Nick’s lips move to his chest. “No, I’m …” He sighs. “I’m fun drunk too.”
Nick crawls up Charlie’s body to kiss his neck. At his ear, Nick asks lowly, “You want to?”
Nodding surely, Charlie lets his hands wonder over Nick’s back. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He goes in for a kiss on Nick’s lips. They’re already worked up. The kiss is hot, dancing tongues and locking lips. “Just …”
Nick pulls away a little, patient. Even though his eyes follow the movement of Charlie’s lips.
“Maybe not —” Charlie smiles. “We didn’t really prep or anything.”
Understanding, Nick nods. “Yeah.”
Charlie has his hands under Nick’s shirt, ready to rid him of it. “That okay?”
Nick kisses his boyfriend. “Course, Char.”
Bringing Nick’s shirt up and over his head, Charlie drops it to the floor. He cups Nick’s cheeks in his hands. “You’re the best.”
Nick smiles. Kisses Charlie again. “I beg to differ.”
Charlie takes off his own shirt, throwing it on top of Nick’s. He urges Nick closer, chest to chest. Legs tangled. Hips aligned. He brushes his upwards. Nick drops both hands to either side of Charlie’s head, bracing himself. He moans. Charlie grins. Does it again. Nick’s exhale trembles.
Nick pushes his thighs against Charlie’s, widening the space he inhabits. He gets on his knees, trapping Charlie’s hips against his, and gives a hard thrust.
“Fuck,” Charlie says at the feeling of Nick’s hard-on along his own. His fingers drop to Nick’s waistband, tugging at the button until it gives way. He shoves his hand into Nick’s trousers, palming his cock through his pants, as he unzips Nick’s fly. Every movement of his fingers makes Nick softly grunt into Charlie’s kisses. “God, you feel so good.”
“I can feel even better, you know,” Nick breathes. His eyes travel south to follow his hand, teasing a path to Charlie’s jeans.
Charlie nods. “Yeah.” He makes quick work of his fly, ripping at the buttons. Then he slips his jeans down his thighs. Moves only far enough away from Nick to kick them off his socked feet. He smiles at Nick. “C’mere.”
But Nick does the opposite. Gets to his knees to free himself from his trousers.
Charlie momentarily sits up, reaching out. He gropes at the front of Nick’s pants. Traces ridges and veins he knows by heart. Nick’s breath hitches. He shuffles closer to his boyfriend.
“And have I ever told you,” Nick murmurs, lips ghosting Charlie’s, ready for a kiss when done talking, “how hot you are?”
Feigning a ponder, Charlie bites his lip. “Maybe, I dunno, once or twice?”
Nick goes in for the kiss promised by his lips. His hand travel to the small of Charlie’s back, urging. Charlie gets the message loud and clear. Lets Nick’s hand guide his hips. And Nick’s hips meet Charlie’s readily. Every exhale gets heavier. Heavy exhales turn to moans. Hands wander as kisses continue, hungry.
Charlie’s fingers trace the back of Nick’s waistband. Then he slips his hand underneath, palming Nick’s ass cheek. Fingertips at his crack. Now he’s setting the pace. Guiding Nick’s hips. Harder. Faster. Their kisses get messier.
Pressing his hands to Charlie’s chest, Nick rubs his thumbs over Charlie’s nipples.
Grunting, Charlie’s hips jerk forward. Tip brushes tip with only two thin layers of fabric between. It’s too much for Charlie. He bunches Nick’s pants in his grip, pulling down. Freeing Nick’s ass first, Charlie’s hands explore the soft expanse of skin. He grabs a handful. And his fingers fall further, teasing taint.
Nick moans in response. Dragging his lips away, he breathes, “Two can play that game, Char.”
“And yet, only one is,” Charlie dares, an eyebrow raised.
“Well,” Nick mutters, “considering where your hand is, I’m not exactly thinking clearly.”
“I can,” Charlie licks his lips suggestively, “move it.” He does just that, but with his whole hand between Nick’s legs, then a gentle tug of his balls. “If that’s what you prefer.”
Nick helplessly thrusts to the beat of Charlie’s fingers, pointedly aiming his cock against Charlie’s, from base to head. Charlie lets out a rough exhale at the contact.
Frustrated, he brings his fingers to the front of Nick’s pants and shoves them down only enough to expose him. Charlie wastes no time in wrapping his fingers around Nick’s cock, thumb swiping the underside.
“Mm,” Nick hums his approval. Whispers, “Fuck.”
Charlie leaves wet kisses on Nick’s neck as his hand pumps Nick’s cock expertly. He’s had years of practice. Might as well use it. With one hand on Nick, and lips occupied, Charlie wraps his other arm around Nick’s shoulders. His hand climbs to the back of Nick’s hair, sinking into strands.
And Nick’s using his hips to keep Charlie’s rhythm. His moans are steady, one after the other, sounding so needy. So at the mercy of Charlie’s deft fingers. When he swallows and tries to catch his breath, Charlie’s lips meet his is a demanding kiss. His teeth nip at Nick’s lower lip, pulling softly. Nick gasps, breath hot on Charlie’s mouth.
“You like this?” Charlie asks quietly. He watches Nick nod, his face nearly pressed to Charlie’s, eyes closed tight. He looks lost in bliss, heavenly.
Nick’s face still reads pleasure, his moans confirm it, but he suddenly shakes his head. “Char, I won’t —”
“I know,” Charlie admits. Reluctantly, he lets go of Nick’s cock. He has other ideas. So he tells Nick, “You should lie down.”
Nick does as he’s told, trusting. He always does.
Charlie makes quick work of Nick’s pants. Flings them off Nick’s legs and across the room. They share a chuckle over the way the pants land perfectly hooked on a rugby trophy, draped over the gold outstretched arms. But attention quickly focuses back onto the matter at hand, with Charlie ridding himself of his pants as well.
Nick watches with wide eyes, panting, as Charlie strokes himself a few times. Hand moving to mirror Charlie’s on his own cock, Nick sighs, relaxing into his prone position. But Charlie’s hand grasps Nick’s wrist, anchoring it above his head and into the plush of the carpet. Then Charlie straddles Nick’s waist, still pinning him down.
“If I wanted you to finish,” Charlie snarls, leaning so his face is close to Nick’s, “I would’ve done it myself.”
A slow, crooked grin spreads across Nick’s lips. “And what’d you have in mind instead?”
“Patience, love,” Charlie whispers. He kisses Nick, so passionate he moans into it.
“Char,” Nick says softly, locking eyes with his boyfriend.
They kiss again.
“Hm?” Charlie sounds lazily. Another kiss.
“Touch me,” Nick begs, lifting his hips, searching for purchase. “Please.”
Charlie scoots backwards just a bit. Until they’re hips against hips. Charlie sits up, but allows his hips to grind slowly.
Nick keeps his arms extended above his head. Reveling in how Charlie’s moving against him. Watching the way Charlie throws his head back, rocking recklessly.
Without warning, Charlie brings his hand to his mouth. He spits. Then reaches for them both, pulsing in tandem. With two cocks in his grip, Charlie fists tightly, roughly.
Nick lets out a cry when Charlie’s fingers graze over the ridge of his head at the exact same time their undersides meet in a kiss at the tip. His cock releases a jet of pre-cum right onto Charlie’s fingers. Charlie doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the mess into his downward stroke. It mixes with his spit to aid the glide of his fist.
Their hips roll together, coordinated. Their thighs work to keep the beat, flexing under flesh. Their cocks slip along, deliciously in sync, guided by Charlie’s hand. He twists his wrist just so when he rubs over the tips and he and Nick simultaneously gasp, both breathless. Each thrust is a threat, cocks pumping pre-cum that only adds to the glorious slide of skin.
Nick can no longer leave his hands out of it. So he touches Charlie’s thighs, running up and over Charlie’s ass, pulling him that much closer. Twin moans tumble from lips.
“Don’t stop,” Nick exhales, pleading, desperate. He shuts his eyes and grunts on the following upstroke.
“Just like this?” Charlie questions, his face giving away how much he wants it too. He battles for breath, chest heaving. His hand never rests, faster, tighter.
Nick can only nod fitfully.
The only sounds are panting, moaning, the squelching of wet, sticky skin, and the faint, rhythmic press of weight into the pile of the carpet. It’s one of the hottest symphonies Nick’s ever heard. Adds it to the growing list of noises he loves — the building crescendo of their bodies, seeking nothing but sweet release now. It’s what they want. What they deserve.
“Char,” Nick gasps, stifling a moan at the back of his throat. “Like that.”
He lifts a hand, reaching.
Charlie knows, immediately giving in. He catches himself on a bracing arm to the carpet, as he falls forward to kiss Nick’s lips. Nick’s hand wraps around the back of Charlie’s neck, holding him there to kiss again. It’s fighting lips and wild tongues and it matches the fervor of their hips, the heat.
Nick breaks the kiss to mumble against Charlie’s lips, “I’m gonna come.”
“C’mon, baby,” Charlie whispers, determined. Fist doubling down, tighter. “That’s what I want.”
Nodding, Nick thrusts hard into Charlie’s hand, against Charlie’s cock — once, twice. And he uses both hands to pull Charlie’s face flush with his as he comes. A warm splatter across his bare chest in the sparse space between their bodies. More. Again, as Charlie lessens his grip with each pass of his fist, but doesn’t stop. He’s milking Nick and getting himself off at the same time. So Charlie’s cum joins Nick’s, painting in swaths on his skin. One overzealous shot coats Nick’s neck.
They giggle together whilst Charlie slowly works their cocks until utterly spent. Verging on overstimulated. When Charlie finally lets go of their soften cocks, he presses chest to chest. Lowers himself against Nick fully, resting atop his boyfriend. A few rivulets of smeared cum leak over Nick’s sides. He doesn’t care. He drapes his arms over Charlie’s shoulders and guides him in for a surprisingly chaste kiss. Charlie returns the kiss, then trails a couple of his own along Nick’s jaw. Until he tucks his face close to Nick’s neck — at a clean patch near his ear. They both breathe. Try to even their inhales and exhales. Nick’s fingers draw abstract patterns on Charlie’s back, soft and slow.
Nick turns his head. He plants a kiss on Charlie’s temple. “Char?”
“Hm?” Charlie sounds exhausted. He snuggles closer.
“We should probably move to the bed.”
Charlie’s eyes flutter open, confused. “Why?”
“I, uh …” Nick inhales, chuckling, “I think I have carpet burn.” He stretches his back, assessing. “Particularly around my shoulder blades,” he shifts his hips, “and my arse.”
Charlie laughs breathily and drops a kiss to Nick’s cheek. “We should probably clean up anyway.” He’s careful not to move Nick too much as her shuffles to stand, offering a hand to Nick. “C’mon, let’s see it.”
Nick takes Charlie’s hand, wincing as he too gets to his feet. He turns his back to Charlie, asking, “How bad is it?”
And sure enough, the upper half of Nick’s back and the fullest roundness of his ass cheeks are bright pink, speckled with dots of angry red.
“Aw, sweetheart,” Charlie coos, as if his soft voice will lessen the blow. “It’s … well, how padded are the chairs for the graduation ceremony?”
“Not at all,” Nick answers.
“Maybe we’ll pick you up a ring cushion before then, yeah?”
“Charlie!” Nick scoffs, cheeks blushing.
They erupt into laughter before making their way to the shower.