Trials, Temptation and Triumph - Chapter 2.2 (Charlie/Shark, NC-17) (original) (raw)
In which Rory undertakes a new experience.
For introduction and warnings see here.
2.2 - Making Love
Saturday 5 February 2000
Later, when he thought back on that night, Rory thought he must have been slightly insane. He blamed it on the general euphoria that was surrounding the band after their second single, "You All Everybody", had reached number one on the UK charts two days previously. Charlie was feeling on top of the world and his high spirits were infectious. He'd cooked a meal for the two of them - just a simple stir-fry, but delicious - and had dragged Rory upstairs as soon as the dishwasher had been filled.
They were lying in bed and Rory was kissing Charlie and running his hands over his stomach and flanks. He loved Charlie's skin - so hot, so smooth, so deliciously sensitive - and he took every opportunity now to touch it. He was hard, and his cock was brushing against Charlie's leg as he moved, and he was tempted to grind harder, but there was plenty of time yet, and the long tease just made everything more enjoyable in the end.
Charlie rolled them over and began kissing in his turn, working his way down with his mouth until he was nuzzling between Rory's legs, teasing the delicate skin with lips and tongue and fingers. One finger was circling his arse, and suddenly he wanted Charlie to push it inside him.
"Fuck me," he growled.
Charlie looked up, shocked.
Rory winced. He really hadn't meant to say that ... or had he? After all this time watching Charlie take it, he'd become curious. He wanted to try it, someday, he knew that, it was just that he hadn't planned on wanting it so much, not yet, not for a while. And now Charlie was looking at him as if he'd sprouted three heads - which would probably have been less surprising - and Rory felt like a complete prat.
Charlie swallowed. "You mean that?"
Rory was tempted to deny it, to put it down to temporary madness, but he couldn’t. He wanted to know what it would be like. He wanted to feel Charlie's cock inside him. Charlie said that the orgasm was deep, and more intense, and he wanted to feel that too, so he nodded. "I mean it."
Charlie took a couple of deep breaths and sat up. "Wow. I didn't expect that. Not out of the blue." Then he looked at Rory seriously. "Have you ever done this before?"
"Aye." The answer was short and sharp and meant to stop any further questions, but he should have known that Charlie would have picked up on it immediately. He didn't want to go into ancient history, not tonight.
"Really?"
"Really."
Charlie looked at him suspiciously.
Rory sighed and capitulated - well, to a certain extent. "It was a long time ago, and it didn't go well." He wasn't going to go into the details, though he couldn't help remembering it in his head. He'd been a little ambivalent about it to start with and hadn't chosen wisely, nor had he thought to mention that it was his first time. The man had barely prepared him and it had hurt so much he'd vowed never to do it again ... but that had been many years ago. This was now, and he knew that Charlie would be a lot more gentle, would take his time in preparing him, and he'd make sure it didn't hurt.
Charlie looked upset just hearing the bare facts. "I'm sorry. I know how much it can hurt if it's not done right."
"Nothing you can do about it, lad."
"No. But I can make this time good for you."
Charlie still looked sad, and Rory reached up to stroke his cheek. "Do that, Charlie."
"I'll do that. I'll make this so good for you ... there's so much I want to do to you. Do for you. It'll be the best night ever, I promise."
Charlie kissed him and then turned to kiss a path down his neck, running his hands all over Rory's body, kissing his neck, his chest, his stomach, his legs. There were kisses and feathery touches everywhere, and Rory was getting harder and harder and he really, really wanted Charlie to stop mucking about and start preparing him so they could get it all over and done with.
He wriggled and squirmed for a few more seconds before growling, "Charlie, get on with it."
"I am getting on with it." Charlie smiled down at him. "I'm making love to you. It takes a bit longer than fucking."
Rory raised an eyebrow. He couldn't recall saying anything about making love, but he knew he could always rely on Charlie to be a little bit girly when the opportunity arose, so he just lay back, closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down.
Charlie continued with his progress over Rory's body, slowly and thoroughly, until Rory felt as if every inch of his skin had been kissed and caressed. He was so ready for this that when Charlie eventually straightened up and reached for the lubricant, he was afraid that he was going to come as soon as Charlie put one finger inside him.
The slight pause, however, allowed him to regain a little control, and he watched Charlie pouring the lotion over his fingers and warming it up. Then Charlie was leaning over him. "You still OK with this?"
He nodded. "Aye. The suspense is killing me, though."
Charlie laughed, and gently pushed Rory's left knee up and out, exposing his perineum. He felt an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach - he was still nervous, still anxious that it might hurt (though he knew Charlie would be careful) and apprehensive that Charlie might think him rubbish at it. And it didn't matter that Charlie was going to be doing all the work, or that it was more-or-less his first time. He still wanted it to be perfect.
Charlie was teasing him again, running a finger over the delicate skin there, just getting everything wet, no pressure. It felt good, but he wanted more. Then Charlie started circling his arse again, and he took a deep breath.
"Relax," said Charlie. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you. We'll take this nice and slowly, and if it hurts, just let me know and I'll back off a bit. OK?"
"OK," he responded, thought he hoped there'd be no cause to back off. Oddly enough, he trusted Charlie absolutely, in spite of the fact that he usually bottomed. Or maybe it was because of that - after all, a bottom got to know all the things that could go wrong, all the things that a careless top could do without realising. Charlie was certainly being gentle enough, and the first finger entered him with no discomfort at all. It felt odd, certainly, but not painful. A second finger followed, and Charlie started stretching him, slowly and smoothly, and that was odd too, and a little bit uncomfortable, but he definitely couldn't call it painful. After another minute or two Charlie added a third finger, but he took his time, making sure that there wasn't too much of a stretch at once, and Rory found that he was really getting to like this feeling.
As Charlie worked his way deeper, Rory wondered why it had taken him so long to get around to doing this. All right, so the last time had been pretty bad, and he hadn't really got trusted anyone since then, but surely there must have been men who could have done this for him before? He must have been crazy to think that topping was the only way to go. He must have been - what the fuck was that?
He opened his eyes and saw Charlie grinning at him. "That, my love, is God's gift to gay men. It's also why half the straight men in the world don't mind getting fucked occasionally."
Charlie's fingertips were rubbing over his prostate, and it added a whole new dimension to the sensations he was feeling - so deep, so tingly, so overwhelming. He'd read that some men could come just from this, and now he could believe it.
"Can we get to the fucking now?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse and not really his own.
"In a minute. I want to stretch you a little bit more first."
"I'm not sure I can cope with much more."
Charlie smiled at him. "You will. Don't worry." He reached for more lubricant and then Rory found himself being opened up even more.
"Feels like you've got your whole hand in there."
"Not quite. Four fingers though. Need to make sure you're as open as possible."
It took a few more minutes before Charlie was satisfied that Rory was as open as he was going to be, and then he reached for one last bit of lubricant. "So glad we got tested," he muttered as he smoothed the lotion over his cock. "Want to feel you all around me."
He put a hand on Rory's knee, then hesitated. "Do you want to be on your back, like this? You can be on your front or side, if you prefer."
Rory thought about that for a moment. He wasn't all that fussed - he knew it was going to be a bit uncomfortable no matter which position they used - but he had a feeling that Charlie wanted them facing each other. "Like this is fine," he said, and knew he'd guessed correctly when Charlie beamed at him and pushed his knees apart.
"Good. Want to see your face."
Charlie grabbed a pillow and slid it under his hips - "It'll help," he explained - and then he was lining himself up and pushing, very gently, into Rory's body. As the tissue was stretched around Charlie's cock, Rory suddenly realised why his lover had been so cautious and methodical - even four fingers wasn't quite the same as this, and it burned.
"I can pull out if you want. We can do this another time."
Rory realised he must have been showing his discomfort, and forced it out of his mind. "It's no' so bad. Keep going."
"Sure?"
"I'm sure."
Charlie took a deep breath and pushed a little further, and then withdrew a little. As he eased back in, Rory could feel the discomfort lessening and started to relax. After a few more gentle moves, he could feel his arousal returning, and tried to tilt his hips up so that Charlie could get a better angle.
As Charlie continued to move, reality seemed to slip away. Rory was mesmerised, drawn into some weird twilight zone of sensation and abandon. He could see Charlie's face above him, and if he concentrated hard enough he could make out the room in the background, but it didn't seem real. Reality was the feel of Charlie's cock inside - inside! - his own body, moving slowly in and out, pulling and pushing on his own flesh, scraping past a myriad nerve endings he'd never known he'd had before tonight. Reality was the feel of Charlie's breath on his cheek, the sound of his voice whispering in Rory's ear, the smell of sweat and musk and the faint residue of aftershave.
He liked this new reality. He didn't want it to end, he wanted to stay here forever and let the world go about its business without them. He wanted to feel Charlie's arms around him, feel his length within him, feel warm and protected and safe. He wanted time to stop.
Fuck! He was getting as sentimental as a girl on a first date. He tried to clear his head, tried to concentrate on the sensation of being well-fucked by a boy with a crooked smile and storm-at-sea eyes, with sinuous hips and broad shoulders that only hinted at the strength they'd have in another five years. But then Charlie smiled at him, soft and happy and in control, and he felt himself reflecting everything back at his lover. He knew he was revealing far too much, showing Charlie everything, letting him see just how much Charlie meant to him now. Worst of all, he could hear himself babbling, nonsense words, odd fragments of thoughts, and he had no idea if Charlie understood any of it, except that he was smiling again and dipping his tongue into Rory's mouth and humming his happiness and - shit, he was doing it again.
Charlie was getting close. "Mmm, so good, so tight, love this, love you, fuck, so good, want you so much..."
"Aye, deeper , oh, I cannae ... mmm, I want more, love ye, Charlie, harder." Had he just asked Charlie to fuck him harder? Oh, God, yes he had, and Charlie was doing it, was thrusting deeper and harder and - yes, just the right angle - and Rory was swept up in a maelstrom of touch and heat and emotion and fireworks, and a total explosion that ripped through his body, making him cry out in astonishment and wonder as he felt his muscles contract around Charlie.
It was at least a couple of minutes before he could form any coherent thought, and even then he was incapable of speech. All he could think was, So that's what it feels like.
Charlie was still inside him, still above him, looking down with such an expression of astonishment that they must be mirroring each other's thoughts. Then Charlie's arms started to shake, and he withdrew, letting himself fall to one side, never taking his eyes off Rory.
Rory bit down a cry of protest as Charlie left his body. He was sore there, a little, now that he was coming down from the endorphin high, but he felt so empty without Charlie's cock inside his body. He wanted it back, wanted to feel that sense of fulfilment, of completion.
He could understand now, as he never could before, how Charlie could have begged for it, even when they weren't exactly lovers, when it was still a transaction for money, when Rory had taken every opportunity to fuck him raw. Nothing else in the world felt like this.
He rolled so that he was facing Charlie, and they lay side by side, looking into each other's eyes. Neither of them spoke, as though they didn't want to break the spell that surrounded them. Charlie's hand came up and cupped Rory's cheek, a gesture of such tenderness that it almost broke him then and there. He had to close his eyes and get a grip on himself before he did something stupid, like cry, but he pressed his cheek into Charlie's hand. He loved Charlie so much it hurt, even if he could never say it.
A vague sense of unease crept over him. Something he'd said ... something he'd said out loud while Charlie had been fucking him. The unease solidified into a nauseating realisation of what he'd let slip in the heat of the moment. He dropped his head onto the pillow.
Maybe he was safe. Maybe Charlie hadn't heard.
* * *
He woke in darkness - he didn't know what time it was, only that several hours must have passed. The room was cool, and Charlie felt like the world's best life-size hot water bottle, curled up beside him. His body ached in unaccustomed places, and he wondered how on earth men could do that more than once a week, no matter how good it was at the time. He supposed they must grow used to it. Charlie had never complained, anyway - not that Rory had given him much opportunity, not at the start of it, at least.
He got up, careful not to wake Charlie, and padded over to the window. He remembered when Charlie had stood here, back in the summer, and felt a pang of remorse for the off-hand way he had treated Charlie's pain, now he knew how lonely it could be. Only it was winter now, and he was shivering, in spite of the central heating, and he really should have put on a dressing gown before coming over here.
"What's wrong?" asked Charlie behind him, his arms sliding around Rory's waist and his chest pressing up against Rory's back. So warm ... Charlie was always so warm, and it was all Rory could do not to lean back into that blessed heat and let Charlie take his weight and his troubles. But that wasn't Rory's way.
"Nothing," he whispered.
"Just admiring the view?"
"Just thinking."
Charlie nuzzled the back of his neck, and Rory felt torn between pulling away and pulling Charlie closer. It did feel good, having Charlie at his back, holding him firmly, but he didn't really want to analyse why it felt so good. He settled for standing quite still, like a statue, waiting for Charlie to speak again.
"Are you sore?"
"No. Well, a little."
"I'm sorry." Charlie replied immediately.
"It's OK."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's not that bad. And I asked for it."
"Do you regret it? You don't have to do it again, not if you don't want to."
"I'm all right. Stop fussing."
There was a long pause, then Charlie spoke again, a little hesitantly. "Look, sometimes, when people are in bed, they say things that ... well, they get carried away. Stuff you say at night ... it doesn't always mean the same thing in the light of day. That can be OK, though. As long as it's understood."
Oh, bugger. Charlie had heard, then. And now Rory felt even worse because Charlie was offering him a way out. "I didn't mean it," he said, almost as a reflex, and then cursed again as Charlie froze, and he realised that he'd just made it ten times worse instead of better.
"Are you saying you don't love me?"
"I ... I don't know."
He felt Charlie's intake of breath, felt him draw away slightly, collecting himself, drawing back all the warmth and love and tenderness that he'd wrapped around Rory. It hurt. Gods, it hurt, and Rory had a sudden revelation of the pain Charlie must have felt every time Rory had turned him away, but he still couldn't bring himself to say the words. He couldn't. Not even to Charlie. He just couldn't admit it, couldn't give Charlie that much power over him.
He felt Charlie's arms unclasp from around his waist, felt the cool breath of air at his back as Charlie's body retreated, and he knew, he knew that he had hurt Charlie worse than if he'd punched him in the guts.
Charlie took a deep breath and said, "It's OK, Rory. I - I didn't really expect you to feel the same way about me, you know. I just thought, we spend so much time together, and then you were happy to get tested, and then tonight you offered ... I just thought it meant more than it did."
Rory shook his head, but stayed facing the window. He could have kicked himself for hurting the boy, but how could he explain the way he felt? How could he explain that he loved Charlie but didn't want to give Charlie the power of knowing it? "It’s not that," he managed to say. "I mean, it is a bit, but not all of it."
"I don't understand."
Rory shrugged. "Not sure I even understand myself." His fists were clenched tightly and he thumped the window sill, furious that he couldn't find the right words. "I'm nae good wi' words," he forced out. "No' wi' this ... f-feelings shite." He cursed silently as he heard his accent slip, and took a deep breath. "You know that. You always seem to know what you f-feel about things. I don't. Sometimes ... sometimes I dinnae ken how I feel about anything. 'Specially not th'important things."
"Sometimes I don't know either. I just ... babble, I guess."
Rory took another deep breath and turned around. Charlie was still standing there, looking confused and hurt and Rory felt an absolute prick for hurting him, and for not being able to explain himself. He took hold of Charlie's wrists and then slid his hands further up Charlie's arms, hoping that he wouldn't pull away. "I cannae explain. It's all wrong, I cannae talk about this."
"It's OK to be scared."
"I'm not scared." And that was a flat lie, but it hardly mattered since Charlie didn't believe him anyway.
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
"Don't want to ...have to. But I never have before. I dinnae ken how." Rory pulled Charlie's hand behind him and then wrapped his own hands around Charlie's waist. "I ..." Oh, God this was so difficult. He couldn't look at Charlie while he was saying it, that would just be too much, so he turned his head and rested it on Charlie's shoulder, whispering into his ear, so quietly that the fates themselves would never hear.
He couldn't say it aloud ... but he couldn't not say it either. He had to sort this out before Charlie gave up and walked out. He just wished he knew how. He was terrible with words - his own words, anyway. He wished he could just show Charlie how deeply he'd come to care for him, how much the boy meant to him.
Perhaps he could. He'd done it back in September, after all, outside the pub. He could do that again now - he could show Charlie, and Charlie ... well, he hoped that Charlie would understand. With this thought in his head, Rory nuzzled Charlie's neck, working his way up to the jaw in soft kisses. He could feel Charlie's confusion, and didn't blame him - God, if any girl had blown hot and cold on him like this he'd have thrown her out on her arse long ago.
He straightened up, looked Charlie directly in the eyes, cupped his cheeks and drew him in slowly for a kiss.
He loved kissing Charlie. He loved the feeling of mouth on mouth, the sensuous slide of tongue on tongue, the sweet sensation of being filled, being probed, being searched … he could never get enough of it. He loved the sensation of Charlie's breath on his skin, the fleeting touches of nose and chin on his cheeks, Charlie's hands moving over any part of Rory's body he could reach.
He loved fucking Charlie too - he'd never get tired of that, not ever - but there was something so different about kissing, something so intimate, something that matched what he felt for Charlie, that he'd never felt for anyone before or since.
"I love you," whispered Charlie, hugging him and nuzzling against his neck. "I don't care if you don't love me back, I love you."
Suddenly, Rory couldn't take it any more - couldn't take the searing honesty of Charlie's adoration, the burden of being loved unconditionally even though he'd hurt Charlie over and over again, and to his horror he heard himself saying, "I love you, too." He was just glad that he was looking over Charlie's shoulder and couldn't see his face. He couldn't have coped with that.
Charlie stilled. "You mean that? Really?" he whispered.
Rory nodded, and for good measure, he said it again. "I love you, Charlie."
Charlie straightened up and looked at him. Rory tried to keep his gaze fixed on the wall beyond, but Charlie's hand turned his head gently and their eyes met. Charlie looked as if he didn't quite believe him, and Rory felt even worse.
"Say it to my face. You owe me that much."
Rory closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to say it again - it would change everything - but in some strange way, he understood. He did owe it to Charlie to be honest with him. It was just that it felt as if he was about to jump off a cliff, and he wasn't sure that he'd survive the fall.
He took a deep breath, looked at Charlie and said, "I love you."
To his relief, Charlie didn't squeal or jump up and down or laugh at him. He simply said, "I love you, too," and Rory could see tears in his eyes. He had a sudden vision of Charlie throwing himself over that cliff first, just so he could be there to catch Rory, and that did it, he felt himself tearing up as well and hurriedly pulled Charlie into a hug so that he wouldn't see.
Charlie's arms tightened around him. They stood like that for some time, quiet and close, until Rory started to feel cold in spite of Charlie's heat.
"Come on, we'd better get back to bed," he whispered.
Charlie straightened up and they made their way back to the bed. Charlie reached out for him as soon as they got in, and they snuggled down together, Rory on his back and Charlie on top of him.
Charlie fell asleep almost immediately, but Rory lay awake for nearly an hour. The world had changed for him tonight, and he was never going to be the same again.