nate submits almost reflexively, and charlie feels it again β a kick, a drumbeat under the hug of his chest, fondness blooming into attraction into attachment. it helps that he's hard, of course, that nate's tongue is buttery against each thrust, that he moans at being used, being appreciated for all that he's worth. but in-between their joint sexuality and the intimate contact, charlie feels unconditionally welcome. whatever judgment they and the rest of the world may harbour for the other, slips away at the foot of the door.
here, there is no preconceived expectation, no rule to adhere to, nor eyes to shrink under. here, charlie fists nate's hair and fucks the wet of his throat β here, he chases pleasure recklessly, eyes wandering to the very masculine body before him, obedient and taking. he wants to come in his mouth before things accelerate, mark him quick like he promised, before pinning nate to the mattress and pounding him until he gasps, until he's foggyheaded with it.
so charlie tries, (an easy task considering) and with his thighs burning, knees repositioning themselves for easier movement, he snaps his hips forward and back, spilling pre-cum and spit down a cleft chin β chasing the hum of nate's moaning until he comes. he grunts into it, exhaling haggard and half-spent, as ropes of cum sink to the back of nate's throat. he's painted with it, shiny across both lips, and charlie chuckles at the sight before pulling out β a twitchy, pulsating heat to hang just shy.
"what a good little cocksucker, huh. took that like you were made for it," he coos, the potential shame of this title now delivered like a badge of honor. in fact, he's adamant about the praise, and with nate's face decorated with use, charlie rolls him to his back, parting fingers from a tightly held grip to another cradle. gazing down, nate's features upside down of his own, charlie rewards him with another kiss, one long and lingering and wet with tongue. naturally, he tastes of cock, which charlie can only smile over. it's a dreamlike conclusion, a tender end to a scene, except there is a hunger longlasting, a promise to be kept, and when charlie peels back from the kiss, the tent in nate's underwear is a reminder in itself.
bemused, he eyes nate, still obediently folded at the wrist. "but i'm not done with you yet, am i? β you haven't been properly taken apart yet. you need to be claimed from both ends." the conversation continues as he moves, crawling over nate to position himself between his thighs, knees conveniently tucked under the other's parted ones. he's ripe for it, red and flushed, ready to be plucked and eaten. "do you think you've earned the use of your hands? or do you still need to be punished?" (do you want to be pinned as i fuck you?)
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