Charles by Con Riley

14

They went back to bed, and it was easy.

Hugo lay against his pillows, reaching for Charles as he straddled him, holding his hips as he settled. “What are we going to do?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

Charles mentally ran through options before leaning forwards. “This.” His lips met with Hugo’s for a brief touch before he said, “We were kissing, so how about we just pick up where we left off?”

“Yes?” What looked like relief crossed Hugo’s face. “That’s what you usually do with someone you….” He didn’t seem to have the vocabulary for a process that Charles saw as natural, as normal; as easy as breathing. Hugo, by comparison, was breathless. “With someone you pick up? You just kiss them?”

Charles opened his mouth and then closed it. No, he had to admit. He didn’t.

He sat back, taking in the spread of Hugo’s shoulders, the lean length of his torso, the return of a flush crawling above the neck of his T-shirt.

At any other time, in any other place, he’d have done so much more than kiss him.

Hell, if this had been a usual weekend, he would have blown him already, and be scrolling his contacts for someone else to go have lunch with.

“That’s really enough for you?” Hugo asked again. “Just kissing?”

“Enough?” Charles leant almost close enough that their lips met, taking in the glint of sunlight on Hugo’s stubble, a hundred different shades including that auburn he’d noticed. He wouldn’t normally have catalogued facts like that. He would have skimmed that minor detail. Now he brushed a thumb against its roughness; felt its drag over his lips too, tingling.

He skimmed his mouth down the column of Hugo’s throat, finding where his pulse thrummed, and sucked it before saying, “Kissing can be everything with someone who pays attention.” His voice was just as gritty. “I like starting out slow and sweet, but rough kisses get me going. They’re the ones I want to squirm away from and get closer to at the same time. The kisses with teeth. We could spend the whole morning finding out what kisses you like best, if you’re up for it?” And for once, that was appealing, Charles not feeling the slightest urge to get off and get gone, like usual.

Why would he when Hugo watched him like this? Focussed, as if he couldn’t believe they were back where they’d started, this time without judgement—real or imagined—to stop them?

Hugo stared as though missing even a second of Charles pulling off his T-shirt would be the only sin on this gorgeous, golden morning. Then he touched Charles, both hands on his chest. His thumb found the small disc of a nipple that tightened, and he sat upright to press his mouth to it.

Charles let his head fall back. Let himself feel every second of Hugo’s mouth on him. Let himself clasp the back of Hugo’s head, and enjoy his slow exploration, instead of racing.

Hugo’s teeth grazed like he’d listened, and even though Charles trembled, he felt powerful, straddling this man who made each kiss feel like worship, each suck a prayer sent and answered, Hugo’s hold tightening as he met his mouth and kissed Charles again, each kiss exponentially better.

Slower, like sinking into honey. As sweet too, Charles decided, happy to drown in it, until Hugo broke off, panting.

Charles sat back, and slid a hand under the hem of Hugo’s T-shirt, pushing it upwards. That trail of hair he’d touched before was coarse, but softer in comparison to the stubble that still made his lips tingle. “We’d got this far before.” He brushed his thumb across it, Hugo’s belly tightening, his ribcage expanding. Charles dragged his teeth over his lower lip, wanting to kiss where his thumb rubbed. “Can I—?”

He didn’t need to finish. Hugo tugged his shirt higher and said, “Yes.” That flush Charles had noticed mottled his chest too, which was dusted by more hair catching the light with the same hint of fire he’d already noticed.

Charles shuffled back and bent his head, the hair on Hugo’s belly tickling as he pressed his mouth against it. Then his tongue found his navel, and Hugo almost jack-knifed.

“Steady,” Charles laughed. “But while you’re up, take your T-shirt right off.”

Hugo did, and Charles took in the strength he uncovered—understated, but Hugo was strong in more ways than Charles usually noticed. Strong enough to make him feel heard in the chapel, and so many other times since then. Solid enough for Tor to lean on too, and kind—so kind—another kind of strength Charles hadn’t known he could find attractive, or would want to be around for longer.

Much longer.

For a second, Charles wanted that more than he knew what to do with. Pointless, he imagined, when the summer break wasn’t far off, this bed in Glynn Harber’s stables a pit stop for them both, neither of their ultimate destinations.

“What’s wrong?” Hugo asked.

“Wrong? Nothing. Why?”

“You’re frowning,” Hugo said, levering himself up onto one elbow. He looked down his bare midriff and for one impossibly fragile moment, worry creased him.

“Maybe I’m frowning that you’ve kept all this undercover.” Teasing did the trick. Hugo relaxed, a smile hovering, and didn’t Charles want to see more of that as well? Would’ve done anything, it seemed, to inspire it. “Perhaps I’m pissed off that we could have been doing this from our first night.”

“In the courtyard?” Hugo sounded dubious.

“Yes. With Luke watching,” Charles said as if that would’ve been normal. “The more the merrier.”

Hugo somehow managed to roll them over.

Charles found himself flat on his back, Hugo above him, put exactly where he wanted, and his heart stuttered even as he said, “Mind your knee.”

“No.” Hugo kissed him, but his knee must have lodged an objection because his weight dropped onto Charles. “Sorry,” Hugo muttered. He made to roll away.

“Don’t.” Charles wrapped his legs around him, their cocks hard and pressed close together. “Unless it hurts you?”

“Not feeling my knee right now.” Hugo let the last of his weight settle, testing. “Is this okay?”

Charles felt the best kind of pressure pool low in his pelvis, Hugo heavy on him. He shuddered. Rocked against him. Let out a groan that Hugo had no problem interpreting. “This is okay,” Hugo breathed before finding his mouth, their tongues meeting, a caress that roughened as Hugo’s hips hitched against him.

Charles got a hand between them. Shoved at his underwear and found the opening in Hugo’s boxers, his hand around a thick length he’d have wanted to see if feeling it against his own wasn’t more pressing. Their cocks touched, skin to skin, and raw sensation struck him.

It must have crashed into Hugo too. His hold on Charles spasmed, his kiss breaking off, pupils blown and his brow furrowed.

“Okay?” Charles asked, breath almost crushed out of him, but loving the feeling. He dug his heels into the back of Hugo’s thighs, locking them closer, and rocking for what felt like forever, but couldn’t have been more than a minute, his nerve endings singing. Hugo ground against him, groaning, the slide between them suddenly slicker. “You close?” Charles panted.

Hugo nodded. Seemed anguished for a second. Turned his head away from him.

Charles caught it and pulled until Hugo faced him. “If you are, I’m taking it as a compliment,” Charles promised, breathless. “You haven’t done this with anyone since you got here?”

Hugo bit his lip, but nodded.

“Your poor, poor balls. They must be full to bursting.”

Hugo buried a snort into his shoulder, encouraging Charles to continue. “Don’t worry if you come fast. I’m out of practice too. My arse normally sees so much action, you could park the Defender up there.” It was the right thing to say, the perfect way to lighten a tense moment, because Hugo’s chuckle rumbled. Charles felt it. Liked it almost as much as he liked Hugo picking up the pace of his rocking again, faster now and harder, jerking into a slow, deep grind that came with his buttocks tensing, clenching, the warmth of his climax spreading between them.

Hugo let out a huge sigh that seemed never-ending.

Charles patted his back for a few seconds, close enough to the edge himself that he soon encouraged Hugo to roll off him.

Shoving his boxer briefs right the way down with an audience wasn’t anything new to Charles. Neither was stroking himself over a finish line he’d crossed more times than he’d had hot dinners. But that hadn’t been with someone like Hugo watching, his chest more than pink with a sex flush, mottled now with hectic patches.

Someone like Hugo?

Now he’s just an average person.

Charles basked in a gaze that seemed to marvel at him. That watched him stroke himself off, as if it was novel. Hugo reached out, cupping his balls with gentle fingers until Charles nodded. “Yeah, I like that. Further back too.” He let out a grunt as Hugo traced a path behind his balls that had them drawing up fast. “Keep going,” he got out, his fist flying, Hugo’s intent gaze almost getting him off as much as the feather-light touches. “Firmer,” Charles gasped, groaning as Hugo pressed his prostate from the outside, his fingers sliding farther back, the tip of one of them almost finding his hole, Hugo’s bottom lip caught between his teeth as if doing what Charles told him mattered.

“Here?” Hugo asked, finally touching Charles where he wanted. Needed. Had barely registered the pressure before he orgasmed, shooting over his stomach, joining what Hugo had already smeared there.

Hugo watched, unblinking, his jaw dropping.

Just an average person, Charles reminded himself.

But one, he couldn’t help noticing, who looked at Charles like he was a revelation.