Play It Again, Charlie (50 page)

“No.” The answer rumbled out of him, but Charlie slid closer, poised over Will, wishing the light were brighter, because he knew Will's skin had to be turning red for him. Will was making high-pitched sounds. “Why me?”

Will's laugh was startling, embarrassing, and even with Will still writhing under his mouth, Charlie scowled and pushed himself up.

“You're kidding.” Will was distracted enough to try to arch up against Charlie again, only stopping when Charlie pulled away.

“I told you, I don't... I'm always... ,” Charlie bit out, feeling foolish. He was aroused, and they both knew it. He'd liked what he'd just done, liked it more for how Will had moaned, but he couldn't stop the tension, the anger. “This
is
serious, and someone ought to show you that.”

“Someone?” Will wondered right back, no longer wriggling, but frozen with his hips up, his body stretched toward Charlie's. “Someone like you, dear Professor?”

“That isn't my name.” Someone ought to drive every single movie quote from Will's mind, leave him just a wreck, shaking, weak, saying Charlie's name sticky sweet and needy.

“Is that not what you want to hear?” Will's eyes were wide to mock him, but he was too still, too uncertain, and he still hadn't made a move to free his arms. It was a dangerous game he was playing. If Charlie had been anyone else, if Will had been with anyone else, he could have gotten hurt, truly hurt. Instead he was sexy confidence and oddly innocent eyes. So unbroken, so whole and hopeful.

It was the hope that burned. No one should ever let Will down.

Charlie shoved everything away, his concern, the ache in his back, how much he wanted this, and focused on just Will. He didn't warn him, he simply put his hands to Will's hips and flipped him over. On his stomach Will gasped, then curled his fingers into the bedding and stretched onto his toes to get further up onto the bed.

Will's back was in front of him, smooth and lightly tanned. Charlie put his mouth there too, softly, and if anything, it surprised Will, made him start to turn around. Charlie put his hands down to keep Will on his stomach, then slid them up as he pressed another kiss to the back of Will's neck. Will stopped trying to look at him, whispered something to the sheets, probably something about how this wasn't what he'd been expecting.

He should have said something to reassure him, but words were impossible at the moment.

Charlie put one hand to the bed to stay up and let the other explore Will's shoulder blades, his jeans, his ass, teasing and then pushing down, pausing at the curve of his spine when Will made a noise almost like a hiccup and started to speak again.

“Please don't stop now.”

Charlie had to answer that. He pushed both hands under Will's jeans, over hot cotton, then shoved the jeans down out of his way, down to Will's knees, only to forget all about them at the familiar sight of Will's ass in his underwear.

His, but Will had taken them and he hadn't complained. Because this
was
his, at least for the moment. His mouth was too wet, and he swallowed before speaking.

“Will.”

Will shuddered, then mumbled too quietly to be understood. Charlie had asked Will to never be quiet, told him in ways he ought to be ashamed of to be loud, had
wanted
him to cry out. Charlie moved his hand over his underwear. His palm curved just like it had that morning, and he straightened it before swinging it up and back down.

Will jerked forward. The sound had been muffled, but in his mind Charlie could still hear it, the crack, unmistakable. He pulled his hand away and registered the sound of Will panting.

“Fuck, don't sto— has your mind taken over again, dear Professor?” Will's taunting was audible despite how his face was buried in the sheets, and it was on purpose, his use of that name, had to be. Charlie frowned at him, at the clench and unclench of Will's hands in the bedding, how Will was spread out for him, and wondered
why
again.

He worked his jaw so he wouldn't ask.

“That isn't my name.” He brought his hand down again, shocked, flushing hotly at the force in it this time, the sound that would not be muffled, and Will choked and turned his head.

“Charlie.” His hands were fists now, not letting go, but he didn't move other than to shift his lower body against the mattress, trying to get his knees up.

“Charlie,” Charlie agreed. He wanted to make Will say it again, and he wondered if he could get Will to do anything like this, if anyone could.

He tangled his fingers in the waistband of Will's underwear, waited for Will to hold himself still for it, then pulled them down. His throat was dry, but so was Will's, judging from the rasping words slipping from him. Will's skin seemed flushed, even in the flickering light, and Charlie put a hand to it, just at the small of his back. So warm, with the faintest shiver underneath as Will tried not to move.

“Not going anywhere, Daddy,” Will promised breathlessly, and Charlie shook his head, though Will couldn't see it.

“Charlie,” Charlie corrected without allowing himself to dwell on anything else, using his hand again and wondering if Will's cock throbbed the way his did at the sound it made. When he spanked him. If it went through Will like the heat that went through Charlie whenever Will called him that. He felt himself getting hotter at Will's low moan.

He ran his fingertips over skin blooming with color, then his palm. So hot. He wanted to put his mouth there, might have, if Will hadn't spoken.

“Daddy,” he whispered, and Charlie turned his attention to the other cheek, stopping to catch his breath when the slap made his hand sting and Will arched forward and then went still. Too still, Charlie thought, until Will pushed out a breath and rocked his hips into the bed.

Charlie
just
stopped himself from reaching out.

“Charlie,” he corrected one more time. He didn't wait this time, just slapped Will's ass again. Christ, that was exactly what he was doing. He was spanking Will, instructing him in a calm, stern voice. But Will was poised for more, letting out a long, shaky sigh when Charlie gave it to him.

“Charlie.” Will's voice was soft, just for a moment, but he pushed back for another, and Charlie knew not to believe him. When he sucked in a breath, it was wet, gasping, weak. “Charlie.” Charlie's cock twitched. His whole body was pounding.

“I'm not Grayson,” he insisted. Will shook his head, but didn't answer until Charlie's hand landed on him again.

“You aren't Grayson.” There was a trace of amusement in Will's answer, and Charlie scowled, pausing for a second and then letting Will
feel
that he wasn't amused. The sound made his balls tight, made Will turn his head so Charlie could see his open mouth. His lips were dark. “You aren't Grayson,” Will repeated seriously, as though he was listening after all. Charlie wanted to kiss him.

“Grayson fucks anyone.” He lowered his voice instead, though the words forced their way out anyway.

“I— ” Will started, but Charlie didn't let him finish, and Will made a pleased, pained noise, a grunt that was clearly a request for more. He never wanted that sound to stop, wanted Will's full and complete attention on him like this forever and felt like a bastard for even thinking it.

It didn't stop him from touching the hot skin again and watching the tension leave Will, how he sighed and leaned back into it.

“You aren't anyone.” Charlie softened his voice. Will made a noise, pushing back into his hand.

“I'm not?” he asked quietly, sweetly, but all Charlie could think was that it shouldn't have been a question. He pulled his hand back and brought it firmly down. Will hissed as it rocked him forward, but his hands slid over the sheets, wide open.

“Charlie?”

“You're not,” Charlie insisted, with his hand, his tone, waiting until Will gave a shaky, clearly confused nod and echoed him.

“I'm not, Charlie, I'm not. Oh fuck, I'm not.”

“You're not, and you should only... .” Charlie faltered for the first time since he'd started this, since Will had started it. “
Date
people who see that.” It wasn't the word Will would have used, and he knew it.

“Charlie?” He could tell Will didn't understand and shifted at his surge of heat. He grabbed Will by the hips and turned him onto his back, staring down into the starry lights in Will's eyes for the time it took for Will to catch his breath, to wet his lips and leave them parted. Then Charlie shifted closer, pushing Will further onto the bed, pinning him down and growling in surprise when Will immediately lifted his head to kiss him.

“I'm not, Charlie, I'm not,” he repeated in a thick voice when his mouth slid open over Charlie's cheek. He tried to bring his legs up, then sucked at Charlie's bottom lip only to fall back when Charlie pinned him again, effortlessly, because Will wasn't really fighting. Because he wanted this, Charlie thought dizzily, he wanted Charlie to take charge like this, maybe even to say these things. Will wasn't even fighting the T-shirt bunched up at his upper arms, and Charlie found his mouth for that, kissed him, hard, harder than he should have.

He slid his hands up to Will's face, along his jaw, kissed him as though that would tell Will what this was. But Will only arched up, trying, again, to get his legs around him. His jeans wouldn't let him, and Charlie finally tore his mouth away to kick off his shoes so he could use his feet to finish getting Will's pants off.

The jeans fell to the floor, and Charlie moved up, climbing onto the bed and between Will's legs. He was still dressed, but Will didn't seem to care.

“Charlie,” he was babbling, his mouth at Charlie's throat until Charlie kissed him again, and then he was moaning to make Charlie's skin burn. “You stern... . Give it to me.” It came out more like begging than a tease, a plea.

“Will.” He wanted to argue or explain, but that was all he said, all he needed to, for a moment, as he grabbed the burning flesh of Will's ass with both hands. When he pressed down, crushed them together even with the ache in his hip, Will threw his head back to gasp at the ceiling.

“Hurts,” he panted, twitching his hips up and swallowing when Charlie did it again. His dick said he liked it, and when he focused back on Charlie, his eyes still held all those stars.

“Then say it,” Charlie snapped back, and God, hearing himself was a revelation. He'd
never
let himself sound like this, but Will only shivered with arousal. He looked away from him and then back to him in the same second.

“Charlie.” He closed his eyes. Charlie took his hands from Will's ass, stuck one on the bed to keep himself up, and then trailed one up Will's arm and left it just at the edge of the T-shirt. Will's breathing picked up.

“Oh God, Charlie, I knew, but I didn't
know
.” He tried to roll up, get his cock anywhere where it would feel good. Charlie grabbed a fistful of the shirt. He'd meant it. Will had to see that. “You're so... were you like this with... please, just for me.”

Charlie's body was arched over him, tightly wound up, but he didn't move, even with Will begging him to.

“Daddy, please.”

“I'm not your daddy,” Charlie growled as he tried to deny what he wanted, what Will wanted, though the word made him inch forward, drew a tiny groan from Will. For that to happen... .

“Daddy, please.” Will knew what the name did to him and murmured it, soft and sweet, through swollen lips. He was nearly as smooth as the goddamn silk sheets, still thinking this was something it wasn't. But Charlie wasn't Grayson, and Will ought to learn that.

Charlie shook his head, looked up to the sliding glass door. He was stiff with need, burning, but he exhaled and then eased back, ignoring the lost sound Will made.

“Charlie?” The throb in Will's voice made him look down. Will was staring at him, his body absolutely motionless though he was still naked and bound on top of black sheets. He made no effort to free his arms, and Charlie let himself picture Will like that in his bed, with his neckties just like that morning, and recalled that momentary fear of being left when Will had tied him up.

He could tell Will wasn't sure if he was coming back or if this was more teasing, and Charlie bit back the furious words for whoever would do that to anyone else. He watched Will open his mouth and then shook his head.

He looked away from him, to the restraints at the head of the bed, and then cleared his throat. “Sit up and move back.” But of course Will couldn't move, and once he had his hands on him again to direct him, Charlie had to keep touching him.

Will hardly protested when Charlie climbed down over him and settled back between his legs, just let out a tiny, startled breath and then tried to roll up again.

He met Charlie's eyes when Charlie held him down, then wet his lips. Charlie could see him trying to focus, but they burned where their skin touched, and Will was far more wound up than he was. Rough did that to him. A spanking. But so did gentle.

“Wh... what?” Will began, then he sucked in a long breath when Charlie licked his lower lip for him. He trembled, just for a moment. Charlie licked his mouth again, opened it just a touch more, just to give him a long, aching kiss. Will shivered again and whimpered with just Charlie's mouth on his. Charlie wouldn't let him move anywhere else.

Will moaned against his lips but took it, and then another, trying to push up again at the same time. Charlie could feel his heart pounding and every labored breath before he pushed it out.

“Charlie.” The lost note was back when Charlie tore his mouth away, but he didn't move. “Please,” he started, only to stop when Charlie tugged the T-shirt up, got it to Will's wrists and then pulled it off.

“Do you want me to tie you up?
Tight
, you said.” The real restraints were above him. It wouldn't take much. Will blinked at him, his eyes bright again for no reason Charlie could see, and then he brought his arms back up.

He still seemed full of disbelief when Charlie immediately sat up and urged him back. The surprise had left his face by the time Charlie had the pillow under his back and his hands up, but when Charlie looped the strap around his wrist and pulled it tight, he made that noise again— the whimper— and slid his feet over the silk.