Play It Again, Charlie (29 page)

It was enough to make Charlie look again, not that he needed much convincing or that Will was asking him to stop.

Will had folded up his shirt and was busy sliding his belt free. He curled that neatly on top of his shirt and then pulled his other shirt up over his head. Charlie swallowed and tried to talk himself into looking away again, but Will kept his eyes down on his growing stack of folded clothing. He set the shirt down precisely atop the rest of it, and as he did, his body jerked with a genuine shiver.

His chest was as smooth as Charlie remembered, though with a hint of hair around his navel. He didn't seem pale anymore in the dim light, but gleaming and healthy, an expanse of skin and peaked nipples. Without his belt, his pants were low enough to fall off without too much effort, and Will stepped out of them and ran his hands down the length of each leg as he placed it with the rest of his clothing. He was just in his briefs when he looked back up, the black almost blending in with the shadows around him.

He opened his mouth, then scowled and shook his head and rushed to crawl under the bedclothes. The bed shifted, and Sam jumped to the floor with a pissed off meow. That made Will stop, sitting up at the opposite side of the bed with the blankets falling to his waist. He turned his head to look apologetically at Charlie.

“Oops.” Will rolled his shoulders, staring at Charlie for a moment then licking the corner of his mouth. Charlie's gaze went from that to his cheek, which was still marked with a rough pattern, and without touching it he suddenly he realized what it was.

“You have... .” He really wasn't sure how to put it. “The imprint of a cat on your face.” He coughed. “From a pillow.” He
really
needed to throw those away. Will stared at him for another second and then reached up to rub at his cheek.

“Well,” he said after a second, “that's the first time I've ever had
that
on my face.” Charlie couldn't help a small laugh, even with that statement making him light-headed.

“I bet,” he answered after a pause, and Will pouted halfheartedly at him. For a moment, the downward curve of his mouth seemed real, and then the hand smoothing out the marks from his cheeks touched his hair, which was squashed down from how Will had been sleeping.

“I don't believe this,” Will muttered, tugging at his hair, then giving up and going back to rubbing his cheek. He frowned so fiercely that Charlie pushed up against the pillow at his back again, though he hadn't done anything. Color flooded into Will's face and spread down his neck. But when he looked up, Charlie realized Will's glare was at himself. “I can't believe I
fell asleep
.” He said it as though he honestly found the idea inconceivable. “I mean, what the hell? I get forgetting to turn on the oven or burning my souffle, but this? For anyone else, I would've... .”

“Burning your souffle?” Charlie had a feeling it was a waste of time to ask. Will only pushed out an angry sigh and scooted down to flop onto his back.

“I must look horrible,” he declared, not short on drama, leaving Charlie to stare at him. He briefly considered pinching himself, but settled for wiping the sleep from his eyes and then continuing his careful study of the pretty lunatic in the bed next to him.

“Why would you think messy hair and an imprint on your face would make you look horrible?” he demanded, his volume going up just a little at what he was saying. “Seriously? As though you've ever looked anything less than gorgeous?” Will slid a look at him, and Charlie felt his mouth tightening. If hair and a few temporary marks in his face had Will that upset, what was he doing with Charlie?

But Will was shaking his head and trying to demonstrate something with his hands.

“No, I... .” He was already lying down, but managed to droop somehow anyway. “I just want to look my best for you, and I never seem to.” He peeked over at Charlie again when Charlie tried and failed to hold back his response. Even without much light he could tell that Will's despairing posture changed. He propped himself up on his elbows to give Charlie a measuring look. “Charlie?” Will paused. “You
do
get that when I asked to sleep with you, I didn't mean
sleep
, right?”

“I know that.” Charlie scowled. He was hot, aroused, embarrassed, and annoyed. There was frustration too, making him bury his hands in the blanket.

“Then... .” Will sat up abruptly, watching him. “Why didn't you say anything?” he wanted to know, his eyes so wide that Charlie felt the embarrassment momentarily win out over everything else. There was an answer to that, even if he didn't want to say it out loud. Admitting that he was afraid of driving Will away with one wrong move was as good as asking him to stay, and a guaranteed way to freak him out.

Charlie squeezed a handful of the blanket, then let go.

“I think you're saying enough for the two of us,” he remarked dryly, but he placed his hand carefully over one of Will's when it fell back to the bed. Charlie's stomach tightened at the way Will's eyes narrowed, but then Will was shifting over next to Charlie for one tense moment and then over him in the second after that. Straddling him, really, his knees digging painfully into Charlie's legs before he adjusted his position. He was still under the blanket, and when he moved, Charlie was a mix of cold as it slid down and the air hit him, and very, very warm as Will took its place.

Charlie's lips parted on a silent, surprised exclamation that quickly became a small groan as Will settled over his lap and put both of his hands on his shoulders. Charlie was pretty sure Will's intention was to keep Charlie still, which, he was vaguely aware, made no sense, because he wasn't the one who should be leaving.

“You,” Will leaned forward to whisper against his mouth, his tone pleased but high, almost a whine, “are so irritating, Charlie.” There was faint stubble around his mouth and along his jaw. He pushed, just a little, to emphasize his point. It took Charlie a very long, dizzy moment, but he managed to frown.

“What?”

He tried not to express too much disappointment when Will inched backward enough to stare at him.

“I probably shouldn't say that, huh?” Will asked, and Charlie attempted to focus. Not something easily done with Will shifting back and forth to position himself perfectly over Charlie's crotch. Charlie felt the surge of blood, the twitch, at all that friction and knew Will had to have felt it too. His fingers curled into Charlie's shoulders; his fingertips were hot. Charlie kept his mouth open, anything to help him keep breathing. “But you're so... unapproachable. I can't just ask you if you know how to whistle.”

“Whistle?” Even if Will had been making sense, Charlie still didn't think he would have understood him at that moment, but he sucked in a breath and let Will pull back another inch.

“
This
.” Will said “this,” but he shoved at Charlie's shoulders, so somehow Charlie didn't think that was what he meant. “This,” he said again, then he ducked his head. “Why is everything so hard?” he demanded of Charlie's throat, and Charlie didn't think he meant anything sexual. Maybe it was how he raised his head a moment later and scowled with real confusion. He spread his fingers out over Charlie's skin, then pulled lightly on his T-shirt.

Something flickered across Will's expression that Charlie recognized, though his words stayed stuck in his throat. He was as tongue-tied as Will was. The wrong words were always there, the wrong thing, frighteningly close. What did finally slip out was never good enough.

Charlie brought his hand up, touching two fingers to the bruise he'd left on Will's skin.

“I'm sorry about that.” Apologies were easier than confessions, and he meant this one. He knew it was only a hickey, but he hadn't realized he had been that rough. He certainly hadn't meant to be, but the memory of his mouth over Will's skin, Will choking out requests for more, made his hand linger over the circle of blue and purple. It was small, and he spread his fingers out, imagining more before he realized what he was doing and stopped.

Will put a hand up over his, then tossed his head.

“
Never
apologize for that.” He pressed Charlie's fingertips into the bruise and made a tiny, sexy, hitching sound, as though he
wanted
more, and Charlie swallowed. “I shouldn't even have to say it.” Will's expression went disappointed, but then he ruined the effect by flashing a grin. “See? Irritating.” He was still holding Charlie's hand to his throat.

“Really?” The question was rough, and Charlie blinked, unsure of... just about everything. But Will's other hand left his shoulder, and he finally let go of Charlie to work both hands down over Charlie's chest and then his ribs, gently tickling, only to stop at the hem of Charlie's shirt. He looked pleased, though Charlie didn't know if that was for his confusion or the chance to take Charlie's shirt off. Either one made him flush. But when Will tugged, he lifted his arms and let Will pull his shirt from him and toss it to the other side of the bed.

Charlie held his breath as he brought his arms back down, but Will just hummed, his gaze sweeping over Charlie's chest for a few moments. Then he leaned in close once again and ran his hands up over Charlie's skin.

“See how annoyed am I with you?” he breathed against Charlie's lips and opened his mouth at the first touch of Charlie's tongue.

Will made delectable noises when he kissed, like he'd never been kissed before, and Charlie almost wished that were true, that this was all just for him. He wanted to be that greedy. He licked Will's lips apart just to taste them, then swept his tongue inside when there was no resistance. Will rose up to meet him, his hands returning to Charlie's shoulders and flexing when Charlie pulled back. He'd closed his eyes, but opened them then, giving Charlie a shining smile as he leaned in to drag his lips over Charlie's mouth, increasing the pressure until he got Charlie's mouth open. He pulled Charlie's bottom lip between his teeth and then let go.

“Still annoyed?” Charlie regarded him seriously, but put his hands on Will, his palms pushing just a little over the elastic of Will's boxer-briefs, soft fabric and warm skin. Will nibbled his lip again, then gasped when Charlie returned the favor. It was only a small nip at Will's pouting lower lip, with Will's breath damp on his face.

“
Fuck
.” Will shivered. “No.” Will's hint of stubble was a pleasant burn as he kissed Charlie again and curved his fingers down Charlie's arms, over the muscle. “Slow, huh?” He seemed stunned. “Okay. I can do slow.” He shifted up, his hard-on against Charlie's stomach, and then sat slowly back down. Charlie didn't catch his groan in time. Every move pressed his cock tighter against Will's ass. Their flimsy underwear wasn't doing much but creating more heat and sticky friction.

Will had to know what he was doing to him, but he shifted again, hitching his body up before pushing himself into Charlie's lap. Charlie tightened his grip, possibly too tight; Will inhaled sharply. Before Charlie could stop, apologize, Will moved against him again and turned his head to shudder; he was pressed as close to Charlie as he could get.

“Charlie,” he whispered, all need until he smiled. “Or do you want me to call you
Charles
?” he murmured, in between putting his mouth under Charlie's ear and sucking on the skin there.

Charlie pushed up and held tight to Will's hips, keeping him there as he rocked against his ass. Slow, Will had said, possibly asked for. Charlie could give him that.

“No. Not ever,” Charlie breathed out, shutting his eyes. His cock was trapped in his shorts, but he moved, arching his head back for more of Will's mouth. Will slid eagerly down against him, shuddered out a laugh into Charlie's throat, his Adam's apple, his shoulder. It all burned, as if Will's shadow was going to leave a mark, but Charlie only took a hand from the edge of Will's boxers and moved it to the front, sliding the fabric away. Will's cock was slick and hot, and Charlie stroked the crown with his thumb before putting his hand back to where it had been before and rocking again.

“Okay, Charlie.” Will straightened enough to agree to that and then shimmied back down, his thighs shivering with the effort, as hard as his dick. “Charlie, Charlie,” he panted, as enthusiastic as any cheerleader, and Charlie snorted a laugh as much as he could with his body tense and his heart pounding.

There was an echoing pulse in his lap, making him dizzy with every teasing grind down from Will, every thrust upward he couldn't help making.

He slid a touch to Will's back, pushing past Will's underwear and then just pulling it down when Will nodded and moved up to allow it. They weren't off, but it was almost enough, his palms on Will's bare ass, his fingers roaming further. Will arched up at the first touch, his cock leaving wet trails on Charlie's stomach. He dropped his hands, then raised them to clutch at Charlie's biceps.

“Oh, God, Charlie,” was all he said, and then, “Come on.” Will was practically writhing, and Charlie had barely touched him, but then, Charlie couldn't breathe either, couldn't think about much else but the first, long push inside, what Will would look like, feel like. Slow.

“Come on, Charlie,” Will ordered, his voice hoarse. “Fuck me.”

Charlie opened his eyes, hadn't known they'd been closed. Will was on top of him, in his lap, and it was easy to see him riding his cock, or to see more, like Charlie twisting around, flipping them both over, stripping Will's boxers from him and then getting his knees up and thrusting into him. There was lube in the drawer in the nightstand. Within reach. Charlie looked at Will with eyes he knew were feverish.

Will was flushed and watching him, not smiling anymore, but then, he'd just demanded that Charlie fuck him.

Charlie opened his mouth, then tore his eyes away from Will to stare at his nightstand.

“Son of a
bitch
.” The curse slipped out. “I don't think I... .” He ignored Will's startled laugh and the following groan of complaint when he moved. Will fell against him as he pushed up, but then didn't move as Charlie got the drawer open and glared down at its contents. A bottle of lubricant. A flashlight. Spare keys and— he knew Will was amused— his old handcuffs, still strapped together and ready to be clipped to a belt. All of that, but not one condom.