Chapter 17 Eden #3
Rather than grab a rag to help clean, Charlie positions himself at Eden’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist in an embrace loose enough he can move away if he wants.
His chin rests lightly on the top of Eden’s head, and Eden absolutely hates how much he likes Charlie’s solid presence behind him.
“Eden.”
He also hates that tone. That’s a ‘we need to talk’ tone. Eden fucking hates talking.
“Say my name again and you’ll wear it out,” Eden snarks. Nothing good has ever come from anyone saying his name so many times in a row.
Eden, we found you a new home. Eden, we can't have you fighting anymore. Eden, if you keep running away no one will ever want to adopt you. Eden, you should try toning down the clothing and makeup if you don’t want to be bullied by the other boys.
Eden, you're making yourself a target. Eden, when you dress like that you’re asking for it. Eden, Eden, Eden.
Every part of Eden, from his head to his toes, is strung tight as a bowstring. One wrong word from Charlie and he’s going to snap.
“Pretty sure saying your name a lot is boyfriend privileges.”
There he goes with that word. Goddamn Charlie fucking King.
“Shut up,” Eden hisses, unsure if he wants to hit Charlie or hug him. Or maybe suck his dick so he’s moaning instead of talking. He loses the ability to be coherent any time Eden’s got his mouth on his cock—great for Eden’s ego and his avoidant tendencies.
“I am,” Charlie asserts, slipping his hands under the hem of the t-shirt and resting them on Eden’s bare hips. He’s not doing anything, merely leaving them there as if he can’t get enough of being close to Eden. “And you’re my boyfriend.”
“Awfully fucking bold, aren’t you?” Eden grumbles, embarrassed by the wave of relief that comes with Charlie’s statement. He isn’t asking, or making it a discussion, and while normally that would cause Eden to rebel, all he feels is relief.
Charlie is an idiot for wanting Eden, but he’s Eden’s idiot. At least until he gets tired of him.
“What can I say, my boyfriend makes me cocky.”
Boyfriend.
One word to send ripples of pleasure and absolute fucking terror through Eden. He’s going to fuck this up. That, or Charlie is going to get sick of him. Those are the only conceivable options here.
“I’m sorry I ruined breakfast,” Charlie murmurs, thumbs smoothing over Eden’s hipbone. There’s nothing inherently sexual about the touch, but Charlie’s body is solid and warm, his lips grazing the shell of Eden’s ear. Suddenly he wants to hug Charlie, wants to be held so he doesn’t cry.
Fuck. Fucking fuck that.
“I know something better I can eat,” Eden says, turning in Charlie’s embrace before sinking to his knees. He spreads his legs wide, hitching Charlie’s shirt and apron up to expose him before opening his mouth wide—offering himself up in the only way he knows how.
Feelings are stupid but sex is easy. He understands why Charlie wants to have sex with him. Eden is really fucking good at sex. Why the fuck Charlie would want to be his boyfriend makes no sense.
“I wasn’t angling for sex with all this.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick.
” Eden’s hands move to Charlie’s thighs, watching the way his underwear begins to tent.
He’s so easy, so responsive, and Eden is rapidly becoming addicted to the way Charlie responds to him.
“I know you’re clear and so am I. We don’t have to use a condom. You can come on my face.”
“Fuck,” Charlie hisses.
“Fuck my face then paint me in your come, Charlie. Do it.”
Wasting no time, Charlie shoves his boxers down midthigh. Eden curls his fingers into the waistband, tugging them the rest of the way off so Charlie’s left in nothing but his naked glory, the early morning light streaming through the kitchen window basking his body in its glowing rays.
Everything about Charlie’s body is beautiful, from the dark hair that dusts his lean thighs and chest to the softest part of his flat tummy and his gorgeous dick. Charlie King is a handsome motherfucker, and he knows it, gaze alight with desire as he watches Eden.
“I’m gonna choke on your dick, Charlie.” His fingers smooth up Charlie’s thighs and around to grab his ass, tugging him forward until his erection whacks Eden’s cheek. He turns to mouth at it, knowing how much it drives Charlie wild to be teased, exactly why he does it. “Mmm, so yummy.”
“You little shithead,” Charlie gasps when Eden grabs onto his dick and laps at the tip like one might an ice cream cone.
Eden smirks, emboldened by their positions.
He might be the one on his knees, but he relishes in the give of Charlie’s ass under his fingers and the way Charlie’s eyes fall shut on a moan when Eden sucks him down.
It’s so different doing this because he wants to, because making Charlie feel good thrills him.
There’s nothing quite like the high of being able to make a man like Charlie fall apart, and there’s no doubt he’s falling apart now.
Taking pity on the way Charlie’s fingers clench and unclench at his sides, Eden brings them to his neck, shivering when Charlie’s finger curls in one of the long stands at his nape.
What Eden wouldn’t give for Charlie to gently slide his hands in Eden’s hair, to caress it tenderly while Eden chokes on his dick.
He won’t though. No one is ever that gentle when things are this filthy, and Eden can’t bring himself to see if Charlie would be an exception even as the longing grows.
Pushing his own desires away, he focuses on the weight of Charlie’s cock on his tongue as he bobs his head, letting his hands wander back to Charlie’s ass. Charlie lets out a series of curses in English and Spanish when Eden’s fingers smooth down his crack, playing with him in a way meant to tease.
“Eden,” Charlie cries, bucking his hips.
This is what Eden loves. The desperation, the tremble in Charlie’s legs and the precome that dribbles on his tongue. He loves feeling every minute change in Charlie’s arousal, being able to taste his excitement growing, knowing it’s because of him.
This is something Eden can do, something he can give Charlie. The urge to bring him to release, not so this will end but simply to make Charlie feel good, catches Eden off guard, and he ends up gagging on Charlie’s cock when he takes it too far back.
“Careful,” Charlie whispers, wiping away the moisture at the corners of Eden’s eyes with his thumbs. He’s glad for nearly choking himself, allowing Charlie to think that’s why his eyes are watering. “I’m close.”
I know, Eden wants to say. Because he does.
He can sense it in the way Charlie’s stomach flutters with his rapid breathing, knows it in the way he stills like he’s trying not to fuck Eden’s face too hard, even if that’s what Eden wants.
Even if Eden sometimes wishes Charlie were rougher with him, if only because at least that would make sense.
Images of Charlie flood his brain—tender, soft, confusing—and Eden acts without thinking. He grabs Charlie’s hands and moves them to his hair ready for Charlie to pull, expecting the sting and hoping it’ll stop the sudden longing for things he doesn’t understand.
“So soft,” Charlie whispers, his hands so goddamn gentle it breaks something in Eden. “So beautiful. So perfect.”
Eden fucking preens under the attention, unsure anyone has ever looked at him with such affection while he choked on their dick and certain no one has ever touched Eden like he were something precious.
Even as Eden tries to turn things rougher, desperately trying to get things back into territory he knows how to navigate, Charlie slows it down, murmuring more praise and stroking both hands through Eden’s hair as if he can’t stop—as if Eden is the only thing in the world that matters.
“You’re fucking perfect,” Charlie moans, sliding his fingers into Eden’s hair. Again Eden tenses, waiting for Charlie to pull and take. All he does is cradle Eden’s head in his big hands, staring down at him with unmasked wonder.
Eden’s stupid fucking eyes water again, goosebumps springing up on his arms as he closes his eyes. This is too much. The gentleness is everything he wanted, and he feels sick because he wasn’t supposed to get it. Eden doesn’t get what he wants.
“Baby.”
Eden is no one’s fucking baby, so it makes no sense why that one word makes him almost come, why he grabs his own dick and jerks too rough and too hard, unable to cope with how gentle Charlie is being with him.
It hurts, his grip too tight and too dry.
Eden focuses on that as he sucks Charlie’s dick and tries not to cry.
The harder he strokes himself, the gentler Charlie’s hands in his hair get until he’s all but petting Eden with soft words of praise that Eden is going to be embarrassed about later, but they fill up some of the empty cracks in his heart.
He wants to be mad, but all there is, is sweet relief and pleasure when he finally lets his own strokes soften to match the way Charlie pets his hair, his mouth full of dick and his stupid heart full of Charlie.
“You’re so perfect for me,” Charlie praises.
That’s not the first time Eden’s heard that kind of sentence, but it’s the first time a man has gazed down at Eden like he were a fucking treasure and not a possession.
Unable to cope with the softness, Eden goes for broke and takes Charlie down as deep as he can, sucking and licking until drool drips down his chin, and Charlie’s whining and trying to pull back.
“I’m gonna come,” he warns.
Pulling back, Eden closes his eyes and tips his face up, mouth open in anticipation.
There’s a half a second pause followed by Charlie’s familiar, guttural whine he makes right before he comes, and then his release is hitting Eden’s face—spurts off on his eyes and cheek and then down to his mouth.
Before he can lick it off, Charlie’s crashing to the floor and devouring Eden with a kind of frenzy that makes Eden’s head spin.