Chapter 6 Charlie
Of all the ways Charlie has been propositioned over the years, and there have been a lot, having someone slam a bag of takeout on his table and glare at him while blurting ‘we can fuck’ is going to go down in the history books as the strangest.
Pulling his fingers out of his mouth, Charlie wipes them on a napkin before gulping down the last of his Coke. He licks his lips and stares at the guy beside him whose real name he still doesn’t know.
“You don’t sound entirely sure.”
“If I said it, I’m sure,” he asserts, jaw clenching.
He looks kind of pissed off, which is hot, especially because it makes him narrow those gorgeous blue eyes of his.
He’s got eyeliner on again, only this time it’s a deep blue that makes his eyes pop.
He really is beautiful if you like small, pretty, angry guys who look like they want to punch you, which apparently Charlie does.
He likes all guys, and girls, and nonbinary hotties.
But he definitely, really likes this guy.
Before Charlie had been distracted by knocking him over and their verbal sparring, but now there’s nothing to distract him from staring, and he takes in the juxtaposition of his boxy clothing and sharp, delicate eye makeup.
The contrast does something to Charlie’s brain, lighting it up with dopamine and arousal.
There is no doubt that Charlie wants to fuck him still, even if he did stand him up. The problem is Charlie’s not entirely sure he wants it.
“Look, if this is some kind of guilt complex for standing me up, then don’t worry about it.
I’m a big boy, and I can handle rejection just fine.
I’m not going to be bitter or mad if you changed your mind.
A heads up would’ve been nice, but considering we didn’t exchange numbers you probably couldn’t. ”
Impossibly, the guy's frown deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest. Given how form-fitting the uniform at the gallery was, both the night he wore dress slacks and the night he wore a skirt, Charlie knows exactly how petite he is. The urge to touch is strong, but Charlie has impeccable self-control, at least when it comes to respecting people’s boundaries.
When it comes to shit like food and shopping and annoying his brothers, that self-control goes out the window.
“It’s not a guilt complex. I don’t feel guilty. I just changed my mind last weekend.”
Always one to trust his gut, Charlie nods before rising from the booth. “Okay.”
“I’m off in an hour.” He says it with a bite, almost like he’s expecting push back. “If you’re still interested.”
“I’m definitely interested,” Charlie confirms, inching into his personal space.
Not enough to touch, just enough where he has to tip his head in order to look up at Charlie.
There’s a defiant glint in his eyes, and it only turns Charlie on further.
He doesn’t like fucking people who don’t want it.
Consent is sexy as fuck. He does like a partner who makes him work for things though.
So much has always come easy to Charlie—friends, painting, his family—that having to earn things is a thrill.
“Fine. Good.” He tightens the arms he’s got wrapped around himself. “Rules still apply.”
“Remind me what they were,” Charlie prompts.
He hasn’t forgotten, but he likes the lilt of this guy's voice, and he isn’t ready to say goodbye yet.
Especially since he isn’t at all confident he’s actually going to follow through.
He meant what he said though, he won’t be mad.
He sure as shit will be disappointed though.
Charlie might be a slut who loves to fuck, but he can’t remember the last time he was this attracted to someone.
Something about his contrasting personality and clothing—unexpected and gender-nonconforming—ticks all of Charlie’s boxes.
“One and done. No phone numbers. No feelings. No repeats. Are you still in?”
Charlie hums, inching close enough he could lean down and kiss him. He doesn’t, both because he doesn’t have permission yet and because he’s at work. “Yeah, but with one little rule change.”
“You can’t change the rules.”
“I can,” Charlie asserts. He’s fine with this guy having most of the control, but he’s not someone to be stepped on. At least not yet. If he wants to step on Charlie later while naked, that’s fine by him.
The guy—and fuck does Charlie want to know his name—turns away as if ready to walk.
If his final answer really is no, then Charlie won’t press because he’s not into crossing boundaries like that.
He might love a chase and some push and pull, but he isn’t into people who don’t want him back.
The thing is this doesn’t feel like a final answer.
It feels like some kind of test. Charlie’s got nothing to go on but his ability to read body language and his gut instinct, but neither of those have ever led him astray.
“Wait.” He doesn’t grab his arm the way he’s tempted, pretty sure he’d get punched if he did. Rather he keeps his hands to himself, his tone purposely calm. “You didn’t even let me tell you what change I want to make. At least give me a chance to explain.”
“Fine.” He keeps his eyes on the wall, not looking at Charlie as he waits. “But I’m in charge. Don’t forget.”
This guy is feisty as fuck, and Charlie can only imagine what he’s like in bed.
If control is what he wants from Charlie, he’s welcome to it.
Charlie is an equal opportunity slut. While he loves to fuck, there’s something deeply satisfying about being railed into tomorrow.
His last few partners were all strict bottoms, and while Charlie was more than happy to pleasure them, he can’t deny he is aching for a bit of role reversal.
Or maybe this guy’s desire for control comes in the form of topping from the bottom.
Either way, Charlie is intrigued and attracted to this guy and willing to play by his rules to get a chance at one night with him.
One night. One and done. That’s what he said, and it’s exactly how Charlie prefers it. Neither of them want more than one night, so there’s no point in pretending that Charlie isn’t into it.
Blue eyes swivel to meet his, fierce and demanding. “Well?”
“A phone number.”
“Fuck no,” he snaps. “You can’t have mine. I told you.”
“Calm down, spitfire,” Charlie laughs. This makes him glare harder, and Charlie probably shouldn’t find it as hot as he does. “I was going to give you mine.”
“Who said I want your phone number?” he challenges.
It’s all Charlie can do not to grin like a loon. He’s so fun to rile up, and sexy as hell when he glowers.
“Well no one, but you want to fuck me, or have me fuck you, I haven’t figured out which one yet.” He swallows, eyes dropping to roam down Charlie’s body. Oh yeah, he wants Charlie as bad as Charlie wants him.
This right here is exactly what Charlie lives for—two people who know what they want and aren’t ashamed to ask for it.
They don’t need to pretend to want to date before things get hot and steamy or have some weird back and forth full of social niceties before confessing that what they both want out of this is sex. They’re just two guys who want to fuck.
“I top.”
Though Charlie was more than willing to work with any preferences, this confession is what he was hoping to hear. His ass clenches and his dick twitches thinking about being fucked into tomorrow.
“Is that a problem?” he asks, crossing his arms. Everything in him is screaming defiance, as if he’s just waiting for a chance to fight or flee.
Charlie isn’t looking for a fight, and he’s not looking to make him run, but maybe if he’s lucky he can help him burn off some of the excess energy oozing off him.
“Not a problem at all.” Charlie’s grin nearly splits his face in two. “I’m all yours, pretty boy.”
He stalks forward, jabbing a finger into Charlie’s chest. “I told you not to call me pretty.”
“Sorry,” Charlie apologizes.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Suppose I’m not,” Charlie admits, only feeling a tiny bit guilty about the confession. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Don’t call me that either,” he hisses.
“Well, you haven’t told me what I can call you,” Charlie points out. “I still don’t know your name. How am I supposed to know what to call you when you fuck me?”
He drops his hand in favor of crowding into Charlie’s personal space, an act so unexpected it has Charlie’s breath catching in his throat.
Even more unexpected is the way he rises onto tiptoes and pulls Charlie’s face down to whisper, “I’m going to have you ass up, moaning like a slut.
You won’t need to know my name because you’re barely going to remember your own. ”
White hot lust courses through Charlie. “Fuck.”
A finger traces down the shell of his ear. “You gonna let me fuck you, Charlie?”
Charlie would let him do anything he wanted right now. Fuck him, suck him, even step on him.
“You really are a slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Charlie confirms, having absolutely no qualms about admitting it. Keeps things simple. Charlie likes sex, and he’s not embarrassed in the least about it. If someone is gonna judge him then they sure as shit don’t belong in his bed.
“Okay then,” he whispers, so close Charlie could touch if he wanted. He doesn’t, not sure if he’s allowed, and he has just enough sense to know if he screws it up now he won’t be getting screwed later. “Then tonight, just tonight, you’re gonna be my slut.”
Biting back a groan, Charlie nods. They might be the only ones in this dining room since the other couple eating left but there are people in the back cooking.
If he’s too loud, someone might wonder what is going on.
While Charlie doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him, he recalls the pretty blond’s earlier words about needing this job; therefore he acts like a good boy, keeping his hands and moans to himself. For now anyway.