Chapter 13 Eden
Pleasure thrums through Eden’s veins, sharp and intense, flooding his system with the same endorphins. No one has ever touched Eden the way Charlie does. No one.
There is a hunger in Charlie, a desperation, and for all Eden likes to goad him about being a slut, maybe that’s all it is.
Maybe Charlie is that eager with anyone.
But for a guy like Eden, whose only experiences with sex were harried or transactional, who performed and was used for someone else’s pleasure, there’s something deeply overwhelming about being touched like someone can’t get enough of him.
Eden thought he was prepared. No one has sucked his dick before, but he’s sucked plenty.
Enough he quite literally lost count. It’s the easiest trick to turn—and the quickest. Eden’s fucking good at sucking cock, and he knows it.
Letting Charlie do something to him that no one else had ever done seemed like a good idea at the time.
Maybe because Eden was too horny to think clearly, but also because Charlie King—older, successful, handsome Charlie—quite literally got on his hands and knees and crawled to Eden, begging.
He hadn’t needed to beg. Eden was going to let Charlie suck his dick either way, but there had been no denying how powerful Eden felt. More than that though was how wanted he felt.
No one has ever begged for Eden.
Of course, he’s been desired before, wanted in a myriad of ways.
Eden was chosen over and over. As a kid, he’d been trotted out like a show pony to prospective parents—his delicate looks and angelic features made him look docile.
His fair skin, blond hair and bright blue eyes were a beacon for conservative parents.
Then they’d gotten to know Eden, and things changed.
Things always changed when someone got to know Eden.
It was no different turning tricks. He knew exactly what to do to be the person someone was paying him to be.
There was no part of Eden that was real for those men because no one was picking the real Eden.
No one was dropping cash for a mouthy, trauma-riddled teen.
They wanted the doe-eyed, docile version of him, and that’s what they got.
It’s part of what makes sex with Charlie so exciting.
He’s never gotten to be himself with a sexual partner, never gotten to be mouthy and demanding without the threat of repercussions.
Maybe it’s not what he wants all the time, but it clearly turns Charlie on, and it puts Eden in the position of power, making it the closest thing to safety he’s ever felt during sex.
Somehow, instead of making him relaxed and happy, this pisses Eden off.
How dare Charlie be so fucking good at sucking cock.
How dare he be the antithesis of toxic masculinity, letting Eden do and be whoever he wants in and out of the bedroom without trying to change or control him.
How dare he make Eden feel wanted for the first fucking time in his life.
All of it is messy and confusing and startlingly painful.
Looking at Charlie hurts, but he can’t fucking look away because Charlie is still on his knees, his face a mess of spit and tears with his flushed cheeks and his messy hair that Eden was pulling not a minute ago.
He looks like sex personified because he was desperately choking on Eden’s dick.
As if all of this wasn’t disconcerting enough, he’s got a look in his eyes like a puppy—all pride and eagerness.
Like he knows he did good, and he’s waiting for Eden to tell him.
Which, okay yeah, he did good. In all the ways Eden ever imagined someone might do that for the first time, it’d never occurred to it might be like this, might be with him.
“Fuck you.”
Saying those two words is like picking off a scab—a rush of relief followed by a sharp sting of discomfort.
He knows he’s being an asshole, and the sooner Charlie realizes who Eden is, the sooner he will leave.
For all of Andrew’s assertions about what his brother wants, Eden still has doubts.
He probably only wants Eden for sex, and maybe that’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows how to do anyway.
“I was kind of expecting a ‘thank you, Charlie, you’re really good at sucking cock’, but ‘fuck you’ works too.”
Charlie grins at Eden, self-satisfied and happy. Like he enjoyed what just happened. Like choking on dick and then being snapped at is somehow pleasurable for him. The absolute fucking weirdo.
“Let me,” Charlie murmurs, reaching for Eden’s boxers.
Instinctively, Eden flinches, expecting Charlie to try and peel them all the way off—waiting for Charlie to demand his own relief.
Instead, his delicate fingers curl around the waistband of Eden’s boxers where they’re hanging around his ankles, to slowly tug them up under Eden’s skirt.
He doesn’t grope or fondle, just tucks Eden’s softened cock in, then adjusts the waistband and smooths his skirt down.
Charlie grabs his own discarded shirt from the floor and scrubs it over his face.
He’s still splotchy, his hair a mess, but he’s less wet now.
“That’s better,” Charlie laughs, rising from the ground.
Grabbing his belt buckle, he yanks hard so the colorful belt slips out of the loops, dangling from his hand.
Eden tenses, waiting, but all that happens is Charlie dropping the belt to the ground on top of his discarded shirt before kicking off his Crocs so he’s left standing in nothing but his pants.
Dressed down and half-naked, Charlie is quite handsome.
His hips are narrow, and his chest—with his darker skin and even darker hair—is broader than Eden’s.
This is the point where Eden knows he’s supposed to get on his knees and take care of Charlie’s erection where it’s tenting his linen pants impressively.
This is the part where Eden needs to reciprocate, to offer back something. Charlie is going to demand it if he doesn’t offer.
“So, I want to show you something.” Charlie’s thumbs loop into his pockets, and he rocks on his bare feet.
“I’ve seen your dick already.”
“Darn, and here I was hoping for a majestic reveal,” Charlie smirks.
Something close to discomfort and relief mix in Eden’s chest. This is fine.
Charlie wants sex, of course he does. It’s not even like Eden doesn’t want it.
He’s just a little off kilter. He just needs a few minutes to settle his stupid, racing brain, and then he can suck Charlie’s dick.
Maybe if he can escape to the bathroom for a few minutes, he can get his brain back on track.
“Seriously though, I want to show you something.”
“I told you, I’ve seen your dick.”
“It’s not my dick,” Charlie snorts.
“But you’re hard,” Eden points out, more confused than ever.
Charlie shrugs. “It’s fine, I have something else I want more.”
Confusion wars with relief and disappointment.
So Charlie doesn’t want him to suck his cock?
What the fuck does he want? Eden doesn’t know what’s happening, and the urge to back up and run out the front door makes his chest tight.
He's not good at this. He doesn’t even know what this is, but he knows he’s bad at it.
“It’s out back.”
“Oh, so you’re not just a stalker, you’re a serial killer,” Eden replies, wondering what’s wrong with him. He can’t just let someone be nice to him. He has to go and make it awkward.
“No,” Charlie replies, then frowns. “Well, I mean no—but also what I’m going to show you probably won’t help your stalker jokes. Hopefully you don’t think it’s weird.”
“It’s already weird.”
“Why?”
Because he’s weird. Because he’s not normal. Because he’s not good enough for Charlie. Because he doesn’t know what to do if Charlie wants something besides sex from him.
“Because you’re weird,” Eden blurts.
“Fair.” Charlie’s smile widens. “Being weird is great. Keeps all the normies away.”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?”
“Nope. But that’s a good thing.”
“Why’s that?” Eden asks, heart pounding when Charlie suddenly inches into his personal space, towering over him. He’s stupidly tall and stupidly handsome with his stupidly bright smile, and Eden isn’t sure if he wants to hit him or kiss him or maybe cry.
“It’s why I like you.”
Five words. Five little words.
“Shut up, Charlie.”
Charlie laughs, the fucker, then he wiggles his fingers in invitation. “Will you come outside with me?”
“If you’re going to kill me, at least don’t ruin my makeup.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Charlie holds out his hand. “Trust me.”
Eden doesn’t trust people. Well, except for Addy. It had never worked out well for him before that. But Addy was different, and maybe Charlie is too.
“Just know if you do kill me, I have a lot of embarrassing photos on my phone. Addy will make sure and ruin you.”
“No killing,” Charlie assures him.
“Fine,” Eden snaps, refusing to look at Charlie as he reaches for his hand.
Long fingers curl around his own in a surprisingly gentle hold.
“Follow me.”
“I kind of have to,” Eden grumbles. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
“My studio.”
Oh. That explains it. Maybe he just wants Eden to suck his cock there instead.
“I’ve seen your dick in there, too.”
“This isn’t about my dick,” Charlie assures him, giving Eden’s hand a little tug so he starts following Charlie, almost immediately stopped by the arrival of a four-legged friend.
“You have a dog?”
“Yeah, did I never mention that?”
Eden has no idea when he would’ve mentioned it since they’ve never done more than get off or argue, but he doesn’t point that out. It might remind Charlie they have nothing in common besides sex, and he’ll realize he needs to move on before Eden can even figure out what’s going on.
“Do you wanna pet her?”
“Does she bite?”