Bat #3
I eased a second finger alongside the first, pinching them together to make entry easier. Charlie tensed at the stretch, so I waited, stroking across his stomach with my other hand until he melted back into me.
When I began to move both fingers, Charlie stopped trying to reciprocate entirely. He just hung over me, trembling and gasping, lost in sensation as I worked him open with long, languid strokes that had him keening.
I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of his ass cheek. The sharp pressure drew a yelp from him—surprise mixed with pleasure. I soothed the bite with my tongue before delivering a sharp slap to his thigh that cracked through the attic.
Charlie didn’t waste any time crawling off me, dropping straight to his hands and knees, presenting himself like an offering. The sight of him—ass in the air, back curved in that perfect arch, head turned to look at me over his shoulder with those electric-blue eyes—almost undid me completely.
I couldn’t resist. My teeth found his other cheek, biting down harder this time, marking him there too. Tomorrow he’d carry bruises on his throat and ass, purple proof of what we’d done in this forgotten space.
“I want you on your back this time. I need to see your lovely face when you scream my name.”
Charlie’s breath hitched. He twisted around, our limbs tangling as he repositioned himself beneath me. The urgency in his movements, the way he couldn’t quite coordinate properly in his desperation, sent life coursing through my dead veins.
“Please, Bat. Now.”
The broken edge to his voice nearly shattered my resolve to take this as slowly as possible.
Nearly.
I lifted his left leg, hooking it over my shoulder, shoving down that tiny voice in my head that feared I’d run out of energy before this was over.
I wanted to make this perfect for him. The best sex he’d ever have.
Ruin him for anyone else, for all those future bastards who’d never deserve him.
Something to remember me by, aside from my questionable taste in fashion.
I braced one arm beside his head, leaning over him until our faces were millimetres apart. His breath ghosted across my lips—warm, sweet, alive. Just like my lovely Charlie.
Our mouths crashed together as I lined myself up with his entrance. The head of my cock pressed against his hole, slick with lube and my own desperate need. I pushed forward—slowly, slowly, slowly—feeling him open around me inch by torturous inch.
Charlie’s tongue swept into my mouth with each fraction I claimed, as if he was trying to swallow my moans, make them part of himself. His hands fisted in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp.
I felt him push down, trying to take me faster, deeper. My free hand caught his hip, holding him still.
“Be a good boy and trust me,” I murmured against his lips.
Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut, a shuddering exhale escaping him.
I continued my glacial advance, savouring the way his body yielded to mine. “I’m going to remember every second of this,” I whispered, punctuating each word with another careful inch. “Every sound you make. Every way you move beneath me. For the rest of my eternal existence.”
A strangled sob tore from Charlie’s throat, his body trembling under mine. The sound wasn’t quite pleasure, wasn’t quite pain—something rawer, more desperate. Like he was being unmade and remade with each tiny part of him I claimed.
“Fuck—ah—Bat, please—”
His voice cracked on my name, the syllable fragmenting into breathless gasps. I pressed deeper, feeling his walls flutter around me, trying to draw me in faster than I was willing to give.
Another sob escaped him, this one higher, more desperate. His fingers clawed at my shoulders, leaving marks I couldn’t truly feel but treasured anyway. Evidence of his need, his desperation, his complete surrender to this moment between us.
Finally—finally—I was fully seated inside him, buried to the hilt, swallowed by his heat, his life, his overwhelming humanity. The sensation threatened to obliterate me. Like coming home to a place I’d never known I was searching for.
We stilled. Complete silence except for his ragged breathing and the distant sound of wind rattling the attic windows.
Charlie’s eyes had rolled back in his head, showing only white. His mouth hung open, lips swollen from our kisses, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.
“Hey.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb, drinking in the fever-heat of his skin. “You keep those eyes on me.”
His eyes found mine, that clear blue gone stormy, pupils blown so wide they’d eaten the colour whole. “Or what?”
The corner of my mouth curved up. “Or I’ll bite you.”
His answering grin was pure wickedness. “Promise?”
My lovely Charlie. Even completely wrecked beneath me, still a cheeky bastard.
I began to move.
Fucking Charlie whilst locked in his gaze was the most intense experience of my entire existence—more electric than the first time I’d plugged in my guitar and felt power surge through the amplifier, more addictive than the rush of a perfect gig when the crowd sang every word back to us.
His pupils were black mirrors that reflected my face, twisted in desperate concentration.
Every thrust sent ripples across those dark surfaces, like stones dropped into still water.
I watched him break apart beneath me, watched pleasure rewrite every line of his face, and knew with absolute certainty that I was witnessing something sacred.
This moment would be burned into my consciousness forever—the way his lashes fluttered when I hit that perfect angle, the way his lips parted on silent gasps, the way he looked at me like I was salvation instead of someone eternally damned.
Charlie has dissolved into a state of pure bliss, his body singing beneath mine like feedback building to a scream.
His head had fallen back against the pillow, throat exposed and marked with my bruise, golden hair spread like a halo around his flushed face.
I wrapped my hand around his cock, matching the rhythm of my thrusts, feeling him pulse hot and slick in my palm with each stroke.
“I can’t even describe how good you feel, Charlie. You feel like heaven. Like fucking heaven. I’ve never felt anything like this. Never.”
“Just like that…” Charlie panted, voice shredded to nothing. “Don’t stop… don’t ever stop.”
“I won’t,” I lied, the words scraping out of my throat like gravel. “It can be like this forever.”
Forever. The word triggered something in the deepest depths of my mind, and suddenly I could finally hear it—that last song I’d written for Bat’s Bats, the one we’d never had a chance to record. My voice, young and full of desperate hope, singing over steady drums and that killer bass line:
Nothing lasts forever, that’s what they all say
But I’d trade my soul to make you stay
In this moment, suspended in time
Where your heart beats in rhythm with mine
Forever’s just a word until you find
Someone worth leaving the whole world behind
The melody played in my head as I moved inside Charlie, bittersweet and prophetic in ways I’d never understood when I was alive.
Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut, and immediately I stroked his cheek with my free hand, thumb brushing across his cheekbone until his lashes parted.
“That’s it,” I said, never breaking rhythm. “Keep those lovely eyes on me.”
“Fuck… Bat—”
“I know…” I breathed against his lips. “I know, Charlie.”
I know that nothing will ever be the same again now.
I know I’m going to miss you every second of every day.
I know that in a parallel universe, you and I are curled up together somewhere, two heartbeats instead of one.
I know that twenty-five years from now I’ll still be replaying this moment, and you’ll be growing old with someone you’ve built a life with.
Charlie came with a cry that reverberated off the attic rafters, spilling hot and thick across my fingers, his body clenching around me like a vice.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I wanted to—”
“Shhh.” I silenced him with a kiss, fucking him quicker now, chasing my own release.
Charlie’s cries turned breathless, laughing on the edge of overwhelm.
He rocked up into each thrust, drawing out more gasps from him, another broken moan.
Then unintelligible sounds—half-words and pleas that dissolved into pure sensation.
I spilled deep inside him with a groan that felt torn from the centre of my chest, staying buried as aftershocks racked through both our bodies. Charlie’s legs came up immediately, hooking around my back, locking me against him like he never wanted to let me go.
We stayed frozen like that. I pressed my palm flat against Charlie’s chest, feeling the strong, steady thud of his heartbeat against my fingers—proof of his aliveness, his warmth, everything I’d lost and could never be again.
My other hand smoothed through his sweat-dampened hair, memorising the silk of it between my fingers.
My energy was reaching critically low levels, my physical form threatening to dissipate at any moment, but I reached deep into whatever reserves I had left. This was one of the last moments I’d ever get to touch him, and I wasn’t wasting a second of it.
That’s when I noticed the tears tracking down Charlie’s cheeks, catching the grey afternoon light streaming through the attic window.
“Charlie! You’re crying,” I said softly, wiping the moisture away with my thumb.
“I’m not,” Charlie replied, his voice thick and unconvincing.