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Six years have passed since their first meeting that dark, fateful night, but Charlie really isn’t any closer to understanding Manfred Bloor now than he was before.
The boy - man now, really - has taken to teaching history, and can often be seen swooping around the academy, wearing a flowing black cape and what seems to be a perpetually dark expression. Things have finally settled down into a tentative peace at the queer school, much to the pleasure of the rest of the city, and many of the newly recruited endowed students were content leading relatively normal lives compared to Charlie’s first few years.
As a sixth former, Charlie supposes he should be more focused on the important things in life and buckling down to prepare for his examinations at the end of the year; his friends certainly are. He’s scarcely seen Emma around without her nose in a book, or Fidelio without his endless piles of musical sheets and notes. Even Olivia could be caught working hard away in the library at times. Instead, he finds himself distracted and antsy most of the time, restless and bored due to the decided lack of excitement in his life. He studies sporadically and often inefficiently, and practices the trumpet half-heartedly when he’s most desperate. He tries dating girls for a while, but that quickly grows old, and most of them never seem to be able to get past his endowment, which is hardly fair to him.
He recalls that once, on a rare occasion when both Em and Liv were free enough to accompany him on a walk near the ruins, he had found himself attempting to put the feeling into words. Olivia, of course, offered to skip classes that very same day to venture into the ruins for a quick escape. Emma, ever the more sensible of the pair, thought for a bit and softly voiced her opinion with a knowing gaze. “It’s not the same without all the strange things happening, isn’t it? We always used to have something… something happening, something dangerous and exciting to drive us. Now things are just… normal.” Charlie had agreed with her then, frustrated and resigned. There was no denying that their new life, devoid of wicked Bloors and dangerous Yewbeams, while much more tranquil than before, was utterly and irrevocably mundane.
Well, devoid of wicked scheming Bloors anyway. Manfred hardly counts anymore, Charlie thinks. While the young man still seems to strive to be as nasty to the academy students as possible, he’s a shadow of his former self. Charlie often finds himself seeking out the sight of his tall lean figure around the gloomy academy, wondering if he’s really not up to anything interesting. Once or twice, Charlie finds himself almost wishing to confront Manfred.
The thing is, the two haven’t interacted much since the tense but unwavering detente between the children of the Red King. Many of Charlie’s older endowed friends graduated and parted ways, moving on to their own paths in life. Manfred’s life, it seems, is inexplicably tied to the academy. He’s always there, a shadow on the walls at times, forever surly and cold to both his colleagues and his students, but not stirring up trouble in a visible way. Charlie’s even certain that Manfred hasn’t used his terrible powers to hurt anybody in years.
Manfred’s history lessons aren’t as awful as Charlie had assumed they would be. He’s never really given it much thought, but he supposes Manfred must have done quite well as a student. He’s certainly not a bad teacher, though his strictness hardly appeals himself to any of the students.
Charlie doesn’t know what to feel about Manfred, truthfully. It’s clear he’s an awful person, a fact not justified by the fact that he obviously received abuse from Dr Bloor growing up, though it does make him seem more human. More vulnerable. There’s a lot more going on in that dark head of his, Charlie wagers, and the idea to pick through his thoughts to understand him better is so unexpectedly desirable that he has to stifle his excitement lest his friends start inquiring about it.
There’s something embarrassing and unspeakable about being fascinated with Manfred that prevents him from confiding in Em, or Fido, or gods forbid, Liv. He can’t help his gaze from straying to other man’s dark figure when they’re in the same room, be it a classroom or the canteens. Curiously, this… fixation of his seems to have wormed his way into his romantic trysts. Charlie disturbingly finds himself being more drawn to tall slim girls with dark hair, not unlike Manfred’s.
It’s all psychological, he supposes.
-
The endowed are still compelled to study together in the Red King’s room, but the atmosphere nowadays is much lighter and happier than when Charlie first came to Bloor’s. Despite the endless amount of work he has to complete on a daily basis, Charlie irritatingly always finds himself sneaking gazes at Manfred, who now spends his time marking papers rather than studying. On one particular Thursday night, Charlie is more restless than usual, eager to be home the very next day and liberated from his boredom.
Tapping his pen impatiently against a book cover, he scans an essay question before him and attempts to structure a writing plan, but it’s nigh on impossible. Maths doesn’t seem any more appealing either, but he figures at least it’ll be more straightforward. Charlie starts working his way through the difficult questions slowly, looking up every so often to stare at the Red King in his painting, or at his peers around him. Emma is poring over an ancient looking book, while Billy seems to be drawing figures on his worksheet. When he inevitably looks over to Manfred, he’s surprised to see the other hastily drop his head with reddened cheeks. Manfred had cut his hair a few months back, surprising a great many of the student population when he showed up to class one day with soft, slightly wavy black locks instead of his iconic ponytail. Charlie can recall one memorable discussion where Liv and Em had, giggling and mischievously, proclaimed that the former head boy looked much better without his dreadful oily ponytail. As it is now, Manfred seems to really like running a hand through the shorter locks when he’s frustrated at something, which is a lot of the time. It’s anybody’s guess why the man had chosen to lose his longer hairstyle.
Manfred clearly knows that Charlie’s looking at him, and he determinedly avoids the other’s gaze for the rest of the study period. Once he’s announced that they’re dismissed, he disappears before Charlie can catch up with him and… do what? Charlie isn’t so sure himself, but he knows he wants to talk to Manfred.
With this new goal in mind, Charlie’s days aren’t so unbearable anymore. He listens more attentively in class and finishes his work on time every night, but never manages to catch Manfred alone. When asked by his friends what’s distracting him, he shrugs it off with a “Exams, I suppose.” His Manfred fixation, he realizes, is borderline similar to when he started fancying Mindy Hawthorne a year ago, except he’s not attracted to Manfred that way. Couldn’t possibly be. He’s just determined to, in a sense, make things right. Reclaim a long estranged cousin, and whatnot. Manfred’s not making it easy, however; the older man seems to have sensed Charlie’s determination to confront him, and is retaliating by making fewer appearances to the Red King’s room.
They still collide, in the end. Because it seems inevitable that Charlie Bone will stray into the path of Manfred Bloor.
Charlie takes the chance to sneak out at night to explore the castle when he can. Without Matron nosing around, it’s almost astonishingly easy to do so now, to the point where the excitement wore off around his fifth year, though he still goes out when the need arises. This is one of those nights. When Charlie looks outside his window, the dark sky is nearly cloudless and the moon is rounder and bigger than he’s seen before. Something’s meant to happen tonight; there’s an energy in the air that Charlie hasn’t sensed in a while, and he’s giddy with excitement when he finds himself being led to the ruins by his instinct.
While still dark and foreboding, the old building really isn’t much of a danger without a turned Asa running loose in it, and Charlie doesn’t think to bring anything with him aside from his cape and a torch. Rounding the corner that leads to the centre where the Red King’s tree once stood, Charlie is alarmed when he realizes someone’s already there, then sees that it’s Manfred. A peculiar feeling wells up inside him. Charlie stays in the shadows and watches the other man, transfixed, as he furrows his brows in concentration. Flames flicker on his fingertips, and on the man’s command, they grow wilder and brighter, until they seem to be engulfing Manfred’s body. Charlie makes out shapes in the flames, and when he sees three very familiar cats, he can’t help but let out a cry of surprise. In an instant, the flames die, and Manfred has rounded on Charlie with surprisingly quick reflexes.
“You!” Manfred sounds as shocked as Charlie feels. “What are you doing out here?” Charlie stammers a bit, trying to find an answer. “I’m not… I was… ” He searches his mind frantically, and in a stroke of brilliance, counters with “I couldn’t sleep, the moon was too bright. So I, um, wanted to come here. Because it’s comfortable...” He wishes he sounded more confident, but it’s kind of difficult when Manfred’s glaring at him murderously. Unhelpfully, his mind supplies the detail that this is the first time in a long while that Charlie has stood so close to Manfred, and realizes that, for all that the older man seems dark and imposing, Charlie, having hit another growth spurt just the past summer, now stands taller than him by half a head.
Manfred doesn’t seem very convinced, but also isn’t willing to press him further, it seems. Scowling, the man makes to leave through the same entrance Charlie took, but something possesses Charlie to grab him by the wrist and ask “Why have you been avoiding me?”
It’s boldness from him that neither he nor Manfred are used to. He realizes his mistake and quickly withdraws his hand apologetically, for fear of experiencing how potent Manfred’s flames are, but he doesn’t make to move out of the other man’s way. Manfred is too taken aback to look sour, and in the soft glow of the moon, Charlie properly observes his face close up. Manfred’s skin seems very smooth now, compared to when he was just a teenager. His coal black eyes, while no longer enhanced by his deadly endowment, are nonetheless hypnotic in their own way. This close to him, Charlie can see that Manfred’s eyes are fringed with long dark eyelashes, and his pupils marked by slight bits of silver that glitter in the moonlight.
“---- are you daft or something?” Charlie blinks, and realizes that he’s been gaping at Manfred while angling his body awkwardly to prevent the other from leaving.
“No, I… um. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for awhile, really, and since we’re both here now...” He trails off uncertain when something akin to panic flashes in Manfred’s eyes, but it disappears quickly.
Manfred considers his words. “I suppose I can’t say I haven’t seen this coming,” he sighs, and leans back against the wall. In the moonlight, his pale skin almost has an ethereal glow, and it’s really quite distracting. “Well, get on with it then.”
Confused with his choice of words, Charlie asks bemusedly “Get on with what?”
Clearly annoyed, Manfred gestures wildly around. “Your confrontation! Giving me my comeuppance, or whatever. Just do it now so I don’t have to bother caring about your vile existence anymore.” Realization dawns on Charlie.
“You think I want revenge on you.”
“What else could you be here for?” Manfred is surprisingly agitated. “You’ve been trying to get at me for years now, ever since you stepped through the academy’s doors, and now that you’ve succeeded in changing the place and making my life insufferable, you’re getting me personally now. ” He finishes all this in one breath, eyes bright and dangerous. “I know how it is. I know you know that I’m not strong anymore.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” Charlie points out. “I was just out for an adventure. For fun. I’ve been bored out of my mind lately, in case you haven’t noticed.” He pauses, then adds, “Besides, I’ve never been out to get you. You’ve just always been doing awful things with your grandfather and my aunts.” Charlie shifts so that he’s sitting on the ground next to where Manfred is leaning, his back against the cool wall.
Manfred appears wordless at this. He slides down slowly until he’s level with Charlie, and buries his head into his arms. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that, Bone.”
The two sit side-by-side in silence, for a while. Charlie thinks about how a twelve year old him would be positively alarmed if someone told him he’d be sitting in such close proximity to Manfred, alone, in the ruins, at night, in the future. A chuckle makes its way out of him, and Manfred raises his head to glare at him. “You think it’s funny? You ruined my life, Bone. You and that uncle and that little group of yours.” Charlie thinks that Manfred’s lost a lot of his bite, and informs him so. The other man only responds with his middle finger.
Chuckling again to annoy him, Charlie leans back and gazes at the gloriously round moon. “I’ve never seen the moon like this before,” he says softly. “I felt like something was meant to happen tonight. Something different. It’s the same feeling from back when-” he stops, uncertain. Manfred, who is looking at him again, nods in understanding.
“Things have changed. No thanks to you.” And still, the lack of bite rings impossibly loudly in Charlie’s ears. He clears his throat, and awkwardly says “Well, I thought if we talked, we could be… more civil afterwards.” Charlie doesn’t bother bringing up his fantasies of probing the other’s mind, winning his trust. Manfred wouldn’t believe him.
The older man snorts. “We’re talking now, aren’t we? That’s about as civil as we can get.” Charlie frowns, and says “I don’t know why you do that. You act like you’ve got a grudge against everybody when nobody’s done anything to wrong you.” This seems to have touched a sensitive spot, because Manfred all but flies into a rage.
“No! All my life I’ve wanted to make my father proud, but he keeps asking more and more from me, and when you came and banded up with those other little freaks, foiling every single plan I had and ruining everything, I- ugh. You. Just.” He runs both his hands through his hair frustratedly, seemingly unable to finish his rant. Charlie gapes at Manfred’s outburst. He’s usually more eloquent and composed even when he’s being an evil bastard, but this level of emotion is entirely new. Charlie realizes he’s finally reaching uncharted territories with Manfred, and shivers a little.
Unfortunately, this doesn’t go unnoticed. “Cold, are you.” Manfred sneers. Well, there’s a lost cause, Charlie thinks, but then the other man reluctantly unfurls his palm close to Charlie. A bright, orange flame flickers within, and warmth spreads where Manfred’s hand is nearest him.
“Thanks.” Charlie manages awkwardly.
Before the silence between stretches out for too long, he asks about the flame cats he saw earlier. Manfred doesn’t seem to unpleased with the question. “I’ve been practicing here at night. How to control my… talent. It works much better when I’m concentrating, and I concentrate better when I’m completely alone.” At this, he glares a bit at Charlie, but unconvincingly. Charlie grins despite himself. He feels like he’s making progress.
“They looked like the Flames.” His voice goes upwards at the end, inquiringly.
Flatly, Manfred concurs. “They do.”
“Thought you hated them.”
Even more flatly, Manfred replies. “I do.”
The two look at each other, and Charlie bursts into laughter. He can’t help himself; this whole night has been so absurd. Manfred’s lips twist into what’s almost a smile, and Charlie notices that he looks better when he’s not scowling. A lot better, in fact. He’s struck with the urge to touch Manfred’s face, to see how the other would react.
Perhaps Manfred notices something different in his eyes, because the older man drops his gaze, and looks broodingly at the flame flickering in his palms. “I know I’ve been a danger to you and your friends, haven’t I,” he says, as though the thought just occurred to him.
Charlie snorts. “A danger? More like a death threat. And a downright prat to everybody else.” He’s surprised with his own candor, but doesn’t worry that Manfred will hurt him. Something tells him the older man has lost his talent for that.
Manfred doesn’t reply. The conversation, if it could be called that, dies down after, but neither make to leave. Staring into Manfred’s flame, Charlie feels his eyelids getting heavier, and soon finds himself slumping into sleep, which in retrospect may not have been the greatest idea, but he wakes up unscathed and alone.
He notes that a black cape that could only be Manfred’s is tucked around him, and smiles.
-
Charlie doesn’t want to think that either of them are intentionally trying to meet the other in the ruins at night, but he goes back when he can anyway. After their first midnight encounter, he thinks that he’s slowly, but surely, growing on Manfred. The older man is still surly, and downright unpleasant at times, but he keeps choosing to go back, doesn’t he?
Some nights, they simply sit in companionable silence and look at the stars.
Some nights, they bicker and quarrel loudly about one thing or another until the sky starts lightening into a muted mellow blue, and Charlie hastily runs back to the castle.
On other nights, Charlie attempts to persuade Manfred to repeat the fire trick he saw on the first night. Manfred always refuses, for some reason. “I’m not a show pony,” he says, for the hundredth time, scowling. “I can travel into a picture for you if you want?” Charlie wheedles, but Manfred is stubborn. They go back and forth like this every other week, and sometimes Charlie wonders if he’s pushing it too much, but Manfred always comes back.
Unfortunately, his nightly excursions haven’t gone unnoticed. More than once, Fidelio caught Charlie while he was sneaking back into their dorm, and bombarded him with questions. Fidelio may be a genius, but Charlie doesn’t think that his creativity extends to dreaming up even this thing he has with Manfred. Because it’s just so inexplicable and ridiculous, sometimes Charlie wonders if he’s been having a string of really hallucinations, but reminds himself that a) he himself isn’t all that creative and b) being Olivia’s friend meant that he was quite experienced in distinguishing what was and was not an illusion.
One morning, Fidelio frustratedly suggests that Charlie has been out meeting a girl every night, to which Charlie sputters and hastily denies because that’s simply too close to the truth for comfort. Fido, who takes this reaction to be confirmation, simply grins and winks, promising that he’ll keep Charlie’s ‘girlfriend’ a secret.
When Charlie mentions this incident to Manfred, the man seems mortified but amused. “I couldn’t be more different from being your secret midnight girlfriend.”
“I suppose because you’d more be like my secret midnight boyfriend,” Charlie replies almost immediately without thinking, and then groans. “I swear I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You certainly have a way with words,” Manfred drawls, but when Charlie looks at him, he sees that he too seems a bit flustered.
They’ve never talked much about each other’s personal lives, mostly because Charlie thinks given that Manfred is technically his teacher, it wouldn’t be really approprIate. Then again, nothing about their midnight meetings is really teacher-student appropriate.
He knows that Manfred, being around 25 now, must have had his fair share of girlfriends, but can’t find it in him to ask about them. A sinking feeling sits heavily in his stomach when he thinks about Manfred having a personal life beyond Bloor’s, but he can’t fathom why. Manfred is hardly anyone important to him, after all. They probably count as friends now, or at least acquaintances, but Charlie tries not to think too hard about what exactly his relationship with Manfred is.
It’s still frustratingly hard to read Manfred, even at the best of times, when he’s relaxed and in a good mood. Tonight is one of those nights.
“---- and Asa was absolutely dreadful in the audition, so we had to swap in Tyler Durham, because at least he can act for all that he looks like a constipated cow.” Manfred’s recounting one of the more memorable plays in his school experience at Charlie’s request, because the latter had been curious about life as a drama student from a boy’s perspective. Well, specifically Manfred’s perspective. So far, Charlie has learned that Manfred didn’t act, but otherwise was talented at most everything else behind the scenes in drama, and enjoyed writing scripts. It’s getting hard to concentrate though. He hasn’t slept two nights in a row on account of a particularly nasty Calculus exam he had earlier today, which he probably failed anyway.
Manfred’s cheekbones are very sharp, Charlie thinks. Every part of him looks sharp, since he’s so bony and thin, but he must be hiding muscle somewhere, because Charlie’s been witness to his strength more than once during their past encounters. His collar bones are very prominent, though half obscured by Manfred’s white button up shirt. That’s another change Manfred made, Charlie thinks idly. He cut his hair and changed the way he dresses, to look more adult. He also looks a lot less sallow now.
Manfred suddenly violently shoves Charlie sideways, though his palms are thankfully extinguished. Charlie protests loudly. “That was uncalled for!”
“You weren’t paying attention, you prat.” Manfred snarls. “What, pray tell, is the point of asking me a question if you won’t bother listening to the answer?” Charlie can’t really justify his actions, but apologizes anyway. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired today.” He yawns loudly to prove his point. “Calculus test.” Knowing it would amuse Manfred, he adds on “It went terribly.”
Manfred does smirk, because he’s a dick at heart, but astonishingly says “If you’re too bloody stupid to understand simple numbers, maybe you should ask for help.” Charlie doesn’t bite back his “From you?”, and it comes out like a challenge, hanging in the air between the two of them.
Manfred’s nod is almost imperceptible, like he’s not sure what he’s doing and is surprised at himself.
Charlie grins.
-
“I like your history lessons better.”
“You’re a real fucking nuisance, you know that.”
It amuses Charlie to no end that even Manfred can’t seem to help him with his numbers, and that the other man seems to take personal offense to that.
The two have taken to finding empty classrooms after Charlie’s lessons for remedial maths, but Charlie enjoys watching Manfred get worked up more than actually doing maths, and it doesn’t end up being a very productive endeavour.
They’ve been meeting and interacting regularly for almost three months now, and Charlie realizes with a start one day that he likes Manfred. Fancies him, in fact. He was quicker to recognize the symptoms this time, having had more experience now than he did back when he first dated Mindy, but a small part of him thinks that his strange fixation with Manfred must have started much longer ago than he thought.
It was the small things that made him realize. Charlie likes to observe things by nature. He’s a curious person, and that curiosity has gotten him into far more trouble than warranted when he was younger. That’s why it takes longer for him to come to terms with the fact that he observes Manfred a lot more thoroughly than he does anybody else, even his friends. He doesn’t constantly seek out Olivia’s form in canteens, or stare at Emma’s face long enough to be able to tell people she has the longest lashes Charlie’s ever seen or that when she laughs genuinely her whole face brightens up and her eyes crinkles just the slightest at the edges. He doesn’t look at Fidelio and wonder what it would be like to press up against him, close, closer.
The thing is, Charlie isn’t gay. He’s never liked any other boy like this before, so he figures it’s just Manfred. This brings him to a dilemma. Manfred, as far as he can tell, has barely gotten used to being on civil terms with Charlie, and furthermore, was most likely straight. And also seven years older than him. And also his history teacher. And also tried to hurt him and his friends in the past more times than Blessed has wrinkles.
He can’t stop his heartbeat from quickening whenever Manfred glances at him in class, however. They’ve both agreed to act as normal teachers and students would, or as normal as they could in Bloor’s Academy, which meant their interactions in class while around others were limited to Manfred asking Charlie a question, and Charlie sometimes surprisingly being able to answer.
Sometimes, when they meet up at night on the same day as a lesson, Charlie can’t resist rubbing it in. Manfred’s even conceded that “Alright, so you’re not completely imbecilic in every subject and your trumpet-playing’s up to par, but you’re still a half-wit at maths. Stupid boy.” The epithet is always said with what Charlie hopes is fondness, but it’s hard to tell with Manfred.
Everything’s hard to tell with Manfred, and it frustrates Charlie to no end.
Charlie knows that the other man does stare at him when he thinks Charlie isn’t looking, but the glances could be inquisitive, or bemused. Manfred doesn’t stop acting like he has a grudge against everybody in the world; he doesn’t change his sour mannerisms, and doesn’t stop insulting Charlie. In a way, it’s strangely endearing.
It’s not hard for Charlie to realize one night that something must have went terribly wrong, because when he finds Manfred in the ruins, the man is flaming in rage. Literally. There have been rumors around the school that Dr Bloor and Manfred had been heard caught in an intense shouting match, though the exact story isn’t really clear to Charlie.
Manfred doesn’t stop his flames when he sees Charlie, if anything, he burns more dangerously brighter. “What, now Charlie Bone’s here to have a go at me too?” He snarls, face distorted in what looks like mad grief. “Come to tell me how useless I am? How I’m wasting my time teaching?”
Charlie thinks this incredibly unfair, but doesn’t dare do anything. Manfred isn’t in his right mind. For the first time in a while, he’s worried that Manfred will hurt him. He’s silent, but he stays, and waits, waits for Manfred’s rage to burn out until he’s a pathetic wreck on the floor, shoulders shaking and heaving heavily, though his face is dry of tears. Charlie approaches him and can’t help pulling Manfred against himself, though he feels the other stiffen. He thinks that Manfred is a lot more broken than he lets on, and suspects Dr Bloor plays a huge role in that.
They don’t talk that night.
-
Manfred starts avoiding him again, and they’re back to square zero.
In fact, Charlie doesn’t see the other man around much at all; he doesn’t go to the Red King’s room at night anymore, and Charlie keeps missing him in the canteens. Their midnights in the ruin together seem a faded lost part of his memory, and Charlie wonders more than once if he hadn’t imagined it after all. The only time he appears is for lessons, and even then he looks so defeated and sunken Manfred hardly seems himself. Charlie is concerned, and determined to fix things as he is wont to do.
Another cloudless night finds Charlie venturing into the ruins on a whim, and his gut instincts prove accurate: Manfred is there, in the clearing, a lone dark figure. When their eyes meet, Charlie feels something inexplicable shift between them, almost tangible. The tension reaches breaking point when Charlie says “I accept your apology”, thinking he’d try to be cheeky to provoke a response. This seems to enrage Manfred regardless of what the older man had been planning to say, for he must have been planning to say something, but instead he throws himself at Charlie, who believing himself under attack, quickly counters by turning them over so that he’s half lying on top of Manfred and holding the man’s arms down. Manfred struggles against him, but Charlie, who’s had a few years of football playing under his belt now, is just slightly stronger than the skinny man.
Manfred’s hair is mussed up, his cheeks are just visibly duskier than normal in the pale moonlight, and his breathing is shallow and quick. There’s something unreadable in his eyes that makes Charlie want to look away and get lost in them at the same time. Manfred gasps “I wasn’t going to apologize”, but is broken up halfway by Charlie leaning down and smashing their lips together.
It’s messy and clumsy, all teeth and warm breath, and not at all how Charlie imagined this to happen. Pain shoots through his lips when Manfred’s teeth catch on them, and he pulls away, annoyed. Below him, Manfred’s eyes glitter with malice, and his lips are shiny with Charlie’s blood. “Should’ve known you’d be a bloody aggressive poofter, I know how you look at me, I know how often you think about me, Bone”, and oh, the way he says it makes Charlie close the distance between them again. He wants to be close, closer to the older man, wants to take him apart with his hands and break that awful temperament of his.
Manfred surges up against him despite his restrained hands, bucking and thrashing in a way that makes it plenty clear Charlie isn’t the only one enjoying this. The two make a tangled mess on the ground, and as Charlie begins nipping his way down Manfred’s long pale neck, he makes sure to bite hard enough to leave marks. If Manfred’s sighs are any indication, he seems to be enjoying Charlie’s administrations immensely. The younger of the two makes quick work of Manfred’s clothing, ripping the button-down open with an intensity that scares them both, and then he’s back, kissing Manfred deeply while he palms his cock through his jeans.
It occurs to Charlie that, given their history, he could justifiably be a lot more rougher with Manfred, but it’s just not in him to be that way. He’s had his fair share of sexual experiences with some of the girls in school, but they’re always soft and submissive and much more delicate than Manfred. Manfred, who right now has his tongue in Charlie’s mouth and his hands in Charlie’s hair, pulling rough enough to be painful. Manfred, who is sharp angles and bony hip-bones, pale skin and wiry muscle just strong enough so that they feel like equals.
Harder than he’s ever been in his life, Charlie just manages to pull back and gasp out, “Wait, how do we...” to which Manfred’s response is to roll his eyes and say “Well, I’ve got something other than a cunt, now haven’t I, Bone.” It occurs to Charlie that this isn’t Manfred’s first time with another boy, and the thought makes him furious. He attacks Manfred’s neck with fervent intent, plunges his hand down Manfred’s pants, causing the other to elicit deep, breathy, moans. It’s not so different from doing it to himself, he decides. Leaving his own cock alone for the time being, Charlie focuses on moving one hand on Manfred’s cock and the other on tweaking one of his nipples, which the younger is amused to find is particularly sensitive.
“Stop… stop… ” Manfred breathes, lightheaded with arousal. “I said stop, Charlie!” The use of his name catches Charlie’s attention, and he pulls back again with displeasure, looking at Manfred hungrily with hooded eyes. Manfred licks his lips embarrassedly. “You should, ah, get on with,” here, he gestures to himself incoherently, before continuing “before I, um,” but Charlie gets his message. With strength that surprises himself, he maneuvers them both so that he’s got Manfred pressed against the wall, and moves the man’s long legs so that they wrap around Charlie’s waist.
“Wait, we should - ” Charlie is distracted by a soft glow near Manfred’s head, and is so surprised to find his moth Claerwen fluttering lightly he almost drops the man, who is thoroughly ruffled by this. He has a split second to wonder if he should feel ashamed about his wand witnessing his debauchery, but Claerwen flits away, leaving Charlie bemused until Manfred makes a strange sound.
“What?” In response, the older man guides Charlie’s fingers downwards, encouraging Charlie to press his fingers in. Charlie grins when he finds that Manfred, while still tighter and warmer than Charlie’s used to, seems to be as slick as a girl’s cunt. Lining himself up with Manfred’s entrance, he makes sure to lean his forehead against Manfred’s, forcing the man to look into his eyes as he presses in in one fluid motion. Manfred’s mouth goes wide in a an ‘O’ shape, but all sound seems to have escaped him. His pupils are blown so wide that Charlie can barely see the strange silver specks in Manfred’s eyes; it makes Charlie kiss him hard, screwing his eyes shut with concentration before he starts thrusting into Manfred’s warm body in earnest. It’s tight, far tighter than he’s experienced, and so warm he’s sure he won’t last long, but he holds back, drawing back slowly over and over again only to plunge back in in one quick thrust just to hear Manfred’s gasps. When he thrusts against a particular spot, Manfred makes a strangled sound, and Charlie stops in concern only to have the other man hiss into his ear “Don’t you dare fucking stop now, you stupid boy.”
It occurs to him that being insulted by Manfred turns him on even more, but Charlie thinks that nothing can surprise him any more. Grabbing Manfred’s cock, he gives it a few shaky pumps before the older man is coming into his hands and spasming around his own cock. Charlie follows soon after when he sees the expression of complete ecstasy on Manfred’s, devoid of pretense and bitterness and everything else that Manfred shields himself with. Kissing Manfred hard enough to bruise, he rides his orgasm out, rocking shakily into Manfred while the other’s fingers claim purchase in his hair.
Heart rate calming and breathing slowing down, Charlie manages to let Manfred down gently on the ground before collapsing beside him.
“Well,” Charlie begins, after a long silence where they both avoid looking at each other. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”