Chapter 12 Charlie #2
As usual, he’s got on his pink Converse, his bare ankles and knobby knees on full display.
The sight of them in person after painting half a dozen iterations of them is oddly gratifying, like seeing a work of art for the first time, only—Eden isn’t just a work of art. He’s a piece of living, breathing art.
Eden is so pretty. Charlie knows he’s not allowed to say it, but fuck does he think it. From the delicate slope of his nose to his full lips and high cheekbones. His face is perfectly symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing and delicate in a way that demands it be memorized and adored.
“You stare any harder I might combust,” Eden deadpans. If it weren't for the way he is digging his nails into his wrist, he might think Eden was calm.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Charlie takes long strides towards Eden until he’s stepping in front of him to block the sun, angling his face down towards Eden’s. “You’re just as beautiful as I remember.”
Eden huffs. “Shut up, Charlie.”
“I’ll do whatever you want if you promise not to run again.”
Eden goes quiet, picking at a scab on his elbow and shrugging. “I don’t like promises. They don’t mean anything.”
“What does mean something?” Charlie asks, inching as close as he dares into Eden’s personal space.
Any closer and he’d be holding him the way he wants to, but he’s not sure if that’s allowed, and he’s scared as shit to fuck this up.
He doesn’t even know what this is, has no idea what he wants or Eden wants, but he knows he wants something.
If the dozens of paintings in his room aren’t enough, Andrew knowing would be.
Andrew’s always been able to know what Charlie needed, even when he didn’t, and this is something he, well—maybe not needs but wants.
He wants Eden. In the kind of way he’s not used to wanting anyone, or anything—feverishly, achingly, desperately. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, full disclosure.”
“Well you’re a lot older than me, I feel like you should.”
“Don’t fucking remind me,” Charlie frowns. “You’re so young.”
“I’m not that young,” Eden frowns, seeming to get some of his spunk back at the comment. “I’m old enough.”
“Yeah,” Charlie whispers. “You sure are.”
Tracking the play of emotions on Eden’s face is a crash course in confusion.
His expressions are shuttered, hard to read, and it occurs to Charlie that he doesn’t have a damn clue what Eden is thinking or feeling.
It never mattered before, not in a callous way, but in the way that you don’t have to try too hard for something you don’t plan on keeping.
Whenever he’s fucked someone, ensuring they came and had a smile on their face was enough.
“Maybe we should talk,” Charlie says, surprising even himself.
“You want to talk to me, Charlie?” Eden closes the last few inches of space between them, one of his smaller, delicate hands sliding over Charlie’s throat and up to the side of his neck. “That what you wanna do with me?”
“That’s not a fair question,” Charlie huffs out, already half-hard. “There’s a lot of things I wanna do with you.”
“Tell me.”
“Shouldn’t we—”
“Do whatever we want,” Eden finishes, nipping at Charlie’s jaw. “You wanted one more time with me. Isn’t that what you said?”
One more time won’t be enough. Charlie can feel it. Unfortunately, that thought doesn’t get vocalized because Eden’s mouth ends up just below his ear, sucking and kissing his way across Charlie’s throat.
“Inside,” Charlie grunts, “or we’re gonna give my neighbors quite a show.”
“Why, are you gonna come in your pants from a little neck action?” Eden laughs, the teasing lilt to his voice damn near addictive.
“I was kind of hoping to have your mouth somewhere else.”
“Where?” Eden asks, fisting his hands in the front of Charlie’s shirt and tugging him down until they’re eye level. “Where do you want my mouth?”
“You really want me to say it?”
Eden’s lips curl up in a half-smile that makes him look younger somehow, softening the sharpest edges of the walls he has up. “Maybe I just wanna remind you who’s in control.”
“You,” Charlie whispers. “You’re still in control, Eden.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, the hands in Charlie’s shirt loosening imperceptibly. Eden is like a live wire, and Charlie has no idea what line he might accidentally trip.
“I want anything you’ll give me.”
“That’s right,” Eden says, backing Charlie up, his feet taking the steps backwards one at a time until his spine hits the front door. “You’d do anything I asked because you’re my slut.”
If Charlie weren’t a secure man, he might be having a crisis about having someone a decade younger and half a foot smaller bossing him around, luckily for Charlie all he feels is growing arousal. Eden can boss him around any time he wants.
“Say it,” Eden demands, “tell me what you are.”
“A slut.”
“Nu-uh,” Eden says, sliding his knee between Charlie’s legs. The action hitches his skirt up, and when Charlie looks down he can see the upper half of Eden’s thigh, the faintest dusting of almost white hair and a tiny scar. “My slut.”
“Fuck,” Charlie moans, almost embarrassed by his own reaction. He’s never been bashful before, never been shy about what turns him on, but his visceral reaction to being owned and degraded by Eden is staggering.
“You like it, Charlie.” Eden’s knee works up, the bend of it rubbing against Charlie’s aching balls. “You like that I’m gonna take what I want, that I’m gonna use you.”
“Yes,” Charlie whines, desperately trying not to writhe against Eden in case anyone is watching. Some of his neighbors already dislike him for his weird hours and never ending nighttime company. The last thing he needs is for one of them to call the cops and report him for public indecency.
“You sound a little desperate, Charlie.”
“Only a little?” Charlie huffs. “I haven’t had sex in two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” Eden echoes, the space between his thin eyebrows disappearing. “You haven’t fucked anyone since I was inside of you?”
For reasons entirely unknown to Charlie, he does something he has never, in his entire life, done. He fucking blushes.
“I was busy,” Charlie mumbles.
“Busy doing what, Charlie?” Eden fingertips skirt up his throat, the light drag of nails making Charlie’s stomach quiver.
“Painting,” Charlie croaks, pretty damn proud of himself for managing a solid answer, albeit a one word one. It’s not a lie either, he was obsessively painting. He just leaves out the part where the source of his obsession is the guy pressing him into the wall.
“Have you been working hard?” Eden asks, nails scraping the hollow of his throat and around until they’re dragging across Charlie’s sensitive scalp.
“If I say yes, do I get a reward?” Charlie groans.
“I already told you, Charlie, you can have anything you want if you ask for it.”
“A kiss,” Charlie blurts.
Eden stills, his eyes searching Charlie’s face.
“A kiss.”
“Am I allowed to ask for that?” Charlie utters, afraid he’s gone and fucked it up.
That was one of Eden’s hard rules, the one he broke, but also the one that had him run.
It would’ve been safer to ask to be fucked over his desk again or railed in the shower, but the thought of Eden’s sweet lips haunted Charlie’s dreams and every waking moment since Eden kissed him.
He’s desperate for another taste, desperate for Eden.
“Yeah,” Eden whispers, rising up onto tiptoes while pulling Charlie’s head down. “You can have a kiss, Charlie.”
That’s all the warning Charlie gets before Eden’s mouth crashes against his, just as desperate and demanding as a week ago. The difference is, Charlie is ready for it this time, at least he thinks. Turns out nothing can prepare him for the way it feels to be devoured.
Someone is moaning—he is moaning—pretty fucking loudly, but fuck it feels so good.
Charlie’s always liked kissing, but this he loves.
Eden’s mouth deserves to be immortalized for the way he draws responses from Charlie, tangling their tongues together and working Charlie’s mouth open until he’s a gasping, writhing mess.
He really hopes none of his neighbors are watching because he’s beyond caring what they see, his hands scrambling to find purchase on Eden’s body.
When Eden grabs his wrists, Charlie thinks he’s going to be stopped.
Instead, Eden moves Charlie’s hand under his skirt to his ass and then Charlie’s got two hands full of Eden’s plump little ass.
He lifts Eden with ease, damn near coming in his fucking pants when Eden’s long, pale legs wrap around his waist.
“I’m gonna fuck you right here where anyone can see if we don’t get inside in the next sixty seconds,” Charlie groans.
“Bold of you to assume you’ll be doing the fucking.” Eden nibbles along the side of Charlie’s jaw while they both try to catch their breath. “I’m going to be fucking you, Charlie. Just like we both know you want.”
What can Charlie possibly say to that? Eden isn’t wrong.
While Charlie would happily fuck Eden, and definitely would like to, right now what he wants more than anything is to have Eden fuck him hard and good like he did last time.
Charlie thought he knew what it was like to be fucked, has had many partners fuck him.
He’s been pegged, pinned down and fingered to orgasm more times than he can count.
Sometimes by big cocks, sometimes small, but none of them had wrung reactions from Charlie like Eden had.
“That’s what you want, isn't it, Charlie?” Eden brings their mouths together in a not quite kiss so that Charlie can taste every word. “You want me so bad.”
“Yes,” Charlie whines, digging his fingers into Eden’s ass. “I want you.”
“How bad, Charlie?”
“So bad.”
“Bad enough to beg?”