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The first time he and Peter had ever done anything... well, his mother (who would never hear of it) would say untoward, it had sort of been an accident. They'd just dusted a vampire, and back at the penthouse after, Charley had been showing Peter his moves, how he'd knocked the vamp off his feet (he didn't explain that he may have honed some of his skills while making Kid Comeback vids).
And in demonstration, he'd knocked Peter onto some couch cushions, which somehow turned into wrestling when Peter showed him ways the vamp could have countered. And then, mortifyingly, Charley had felt himself start to get hard.
It hadn't been his fault! It'd been just friction, he told himself. He was a teenager, whose girlfriend had been out of town with her family, so he was extra hard up. He'd stilled when he realized Peter felt it. Everything had seemed to move in slow motion for a few seconds, and then he’d thrown an arm over his eyes, hiding his undoubtedly beet red face, and had begun to apologize.
But Peter... Peter hadn't been mortified at all. Quite the opposite. He'd taken it all in stride. And then, with a few deft unbuttons... into his mouth. Charley should have stopped him. But he hadn't. Hadn’t wanted to. It'd felt too amazing, the wet heat of Peter's mouth sliding up and down his cock, taking him deep. And when Charley had chanced a peek and actually saw his friend's lips wrapped around him, watched his cock sliding in and out of that mouth, he'd come almost instantly.
He'd freaked out a little afterwards. Maybe more than a little. When the echo of his fairly loud appreciation had faded and the fog of orgasm had cleared, he'd thanked Peter awkwardly and made up some excuse for why he needed to leave. Peter had looked downright hurt, or maybe... disappointed in himself. Peter had stammered his own apology, calling after Charley as he'd dashed from the penthouse, but Charley had only muttered that it was fine before he'd slipped into the elevator and away.
It'd been a rough, quiet week since then. Amy was still gone, along with most of his friends. Even the vampires seemed to be on vacation, keeping away from the oppressive heat of Vegas during the monsoon season. And he was avoiding Peter too because he didn't know WHAT to say. 'Sorry I was a dick'? 'Sorry having a dude suck me off (and me fucking loving it) when I thought I was straight a few minutes before that is a little confusing'? 'Sorry I ran off and didn't get you off, when what I really wanted to do was unzip your leathers and return the favor?’ (It took him a little while to admit that last one even to himself.)
He had settled, lamely, on just, Sorry. Peter answered Charley's text with a phone call.
“Come out for a drink,” Peter said like nothing had happened.
“You know I'm 18, right?” Charley laughed into the phone, relieved it all seemed to be swept under the rug.
“No one will refuse you when you're with me, kid. Want to play some Blackjack?”
“Hah.” Charley had been spotted for underage in seconds in the middle of a crowded club, how long would he last at a casino table? Even with Peter around.
“I promise,” Peter said, and it was the only time during the conversation that Charley heard any break in the older man’s bravado, “I'll keep my hands to myself.”
Okay, so not so swept. “Peter...”
“It's forgotten Charley. Just come out for a drink. Or two.”
- - -
“And then I said, ‘Do you know who I am?! I'm the Master of Dark forces, and when I say give me a drink, you gimme a drink!’”
Charley dragged a stumbling Peter into his apartment. He'd never seen Peter this drunk, and that was saying something. Charley was a little tipsy himself, though he'd only had a couple. He was mostly just a little giddy at hanging out with his friend again. Charley had been such an idiot. The summer was almost over, and he’d wasted a carefree week being all tripped up in what was ‘normal.’ It’s not like killing vampires was normal either, and even being friends with a stage magician at least twice his age was pretty out there, and he wasn’t about to give those things up.
“And did he? Give you a drink?” Charley asked, laughing, as Peter recounted old tales of being even drunker.
“No! He tossed me out on my lily-white arse. Can you believe the cheek?”
“No!” Charley mimicked, still giggling. But he found himself thinking of Peter’s long back, that first time they’d met, and wondering what the rest of him looked like. “Is it, though? So white?” he asked, almost without realizing he’d spoken. Oops.
“I don't know,” Peter answered, roaring with laughter himself. “I hardly ever see my own arse!” And then he started twisting his torso and yanking at his jeans, trying to look at his own backside. He nearly tumbled to the floor in the process, but Charley caught him before Peter could injure himself.
Peter was half passed-out by the time Charley managed to pull him upright again. “Okay, dude, time to get you to bed.”
Peter reached up and patted Charley’s cheek. “You’re a good friend, Charley,” he said, blowing sweet alcohol breath in his face. But Peter’s moist dark eyes were so intent, so serious.
The sincere sentiment sobered Charley up quicker than coffee. Man, he and Peter were an odd pair. “Yeah, yeah,” Charley said, shaking it off. “Come on.”
Hauling him into his room, he pulled back the covers and deposited Peter onto his bed. Peter “oofed” a little at being tossed around like a rag doll, but said nothing as Charley tugged off his shoes, and then his shirt. He figured after the ‘arse’ comment earlier, he couldn’t let taking off Peter’s jeans slide without… some sort of diffusing comment, even if Peter was barely coherent. But as he went about the task mechanically, he wasn’t exactly expecting to find his friend, uh… commando.
“Dude,” Charley said softly, “you could wear some underwear.”
“With jeans?” Peter muttered sleepily, like the very idea was absurd.
Charley just shook his head and finished the job. He pulled the blanket up over a now naked Peter, who looked to already be asleep before it even settled over him. Charley indulged himself, staring for a moment… It was rare to see Peter so still and calm. On impulse, Charley leaned down and brushed a kiss across Peter's forehead.
As he was pulling away, Peter's eyes snapped open, and his hand shot out to clasp around Charley's neck, fingers in his hair.
“You don't have to take care of me, Charley,” Peter said, eyes boring into his. “I'm not a kid.”
“Someone has to,” Charley answered, smiling, but feeling warmth spread through him—from the liquor before maybe, and Peter’s fingers now.
“Not you. You should be out there, having—”
“Shut up,” Charley said, and kissed him. It was just a quick peck on the lips, just to stop the words coming out of Peter’s mouth; he’d done it without thinking. Though, he supposed, when you kiss somebody without thinking (for the second time in two minutes)… that sort of has to mean something. Embarrassed, he tried to pull away, but Peter held him there, wouldn’t let him get far.
“Charley…” Peter murmured, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. His eyes were clear and had that same dark intensity as earlier.
Peter’s hand at his neck exerted light pressure at the same moment as Charley began to move on his own, and then, in an instant, they were kissing for real. Surprisingly soft lips and Peter’s tongue sliding into his mouth, all Midori and smoke and Peter, and Charley felt weak, his arm trembling next to Peter’s head as it only just kept him from falling onto the bed, onto Peter.
It was Peter who broke the kiss, gently shoving Charley away with a small groan.
“Oh you would snog me when I'm too drunk to do anything about it.” Peter looked almost pained.
“Sorry?” Charley said. But he wasn’t—he realized—sorry at all. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but that kiss was at least a week overdue.
“Don’t be,” Peter said, closing his eyes again. “Just stay.”
“Stay?”
“Yup. Clearly you’ve had too much to drink too. Can’t send you home like… “ He trailed off, possibly into sleep.
“But I really—”
“Stay. Here,” Peter commanded with a flop of his arm against the bed next to him.
Well, maybe he should. He didn’t relish shelling out for a cab to the ‘burbs now. And he was kind of tired. And maybe he should watch over Peter, as much as the older man declared he didn’t need taking care of… (And maybe he should just admit that he wanted to stay.)
As if on cue, Peter let out a soft snore. Charley shrugged and with a sigh, he toed off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. Pausing at his jeans for a second, he decided he’d never be comfortable leaving them on, so off they went too (he at least was wearing boxers, thank you very much), and then he switched off the light and crawled under the covers. With Peter. Naked Peter, his mind helpfully supplied.
There was plenty of room in the big bed… They weren’t even touching, but Charley’s heart was thudding like crazy in his chest, thinking of the other man right there, what they’d done, what Charley himself wanted to do, wondering what the morning would bring. He thought he’d never be able to sleep with his thoughts racing faster than his blood, but the drink worked in him as did the amazing comfort of Peter’s bed, and he was fast asleep almost right away.
When he awoke, after what felt like only a few minutes had passed (though the early morning sun streaming in around the slightly parted curtains told him it must have been a few hours), they were definitely no longer not touching. Peter was curled around him, spoon-style, an arm thrown over him, knees tucked beneath his, and a morning semi pushing against him. Charley felt himself flush with heat, remembering… everything. But in his sleepy state, there didn’t seem to be anything to be alarmed over. Peter was warm and comfortable, and after all, considering what’d already gone down between them (so to speak), a little half-erection between friends wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it gave Charley… ideas. And if he didn’t act on them now, maybe he wouldn’t have the guts later in the full light of day.
Experimentally, he pushed back against Peter who gave a small whimper before rolling onto his back, sort of dragging Charley with him. Charley disentangled a bit and then shifted onto his side, observing his still sleeping friend.
* * *
It’d been a while since Peter had woken up next to anyone. Oh there’d been a handful of shags since… his last girlfriend, but no one he cared to have linger or to linger for. He’d forgotten the pleasure of just lying still with a warm body next to his. His not-really-awake mind supplied Charley and it felt… really nice. The next thing he registered was a pair of soft lips against his shoulder, and that was really nice too. Brilliant, actually. He wondered if they’d ever need to move. They could spend all day in bed…
He thought he might have heard Charley ask if he was awake. And that maybe he might have mumbled something affirmative, or possibly Charley’s name before sleep pulled him under again. He dreamt perhaps, or maybe was just thinking. Of mouths. Charley’s. His own. Kissing him last night. The taste of him. Going down on him, those delicious sounds of pleasure the kid had made. He felt the burn of arousal slide through him, and half or mostly asleep like this, he knew it’d take just the barest touch or an image his dream-mind tweaked just hard enough, to come. He wondered what Charley was up to. Had there been… a kiss?
There. There was another kiss. Unmistakable, on his hip. Awareness rose in him, along with his cock, which he knew was completely hard now. He found his hands in Charley’s hair as he became more awake, and a groan from Charley, warm breath blowing across Peter’s cock, was what finally roused him fully. He blinked open his eyes to quite possibly the hottest thing he’d seen in recent memory. Charley sprawled across his bed, chin propped up on his thigh, big blue curious eyes looking up to him—moist lips inches from his cock.
Peter gave the barest nod, then ran his fingers through Charley’s hair, and let his eyes slip closed again, relaxing again into drowsiness. Beneath his hand he felt Charley move and then the first wet touch of his mouth. With only the slightest hesitation, Charley’s lips encircled him and slowly moved down his shaft, as far as Charley could go. Back up with a little suction and Peter almost startled himself with his own moan.
Oh, he could get used to waking up like this, he thought, as Charley got into it. The kid was good, especially for a first-timer. Wrapping his lips just so, careful about his teeth, even adding little flourishes with his tongue as he got more comfortable, moving faster, using his hand as well. Peter wanted to speak, wanted to encourage, maybe even make suggestions; he was… never a very quiet participant when it came to sex. But he didn’t want to ruin this moment by saying the wrong thing, didn’t want to fracture this quiet morning intimacy. Whatever inhibitions had finally given way in Charley, Peter was not complaining. He was just enjoying it, riding the wave of sensation, letting someone else work the magic for a change.
He wanted to last, wanted this to go on forever. Hadn’t he thought something about staying in bed all day… ? That seemed… perfect. But so too was Charley’s talented fucking mouth, and far too soon, he felt himself at the knife’s edge. If he didn’t stop Charley now…
“Charley,” he breathed, the first thing he’d said properly this morning, trying to warn him. Charley seemed to get the idea, but rather than pull off, he redoubled his efforts, moving faster still, taking Peter deeper into his mouth. Fuck. God bless the eagerness of youth; Peter knew what that was like—Charley wanted to prove that if he could do this, he could do it all.
Still, with a groan of extreme reluctance, Peter tugged Charley off of him and pushed him away, before wrapping his own hand around his cock. It was warm and wet from Charley’s mouth, and it didn’t take but two rough strokes before he was coming, messy and fucking spectacular.
When Peter could open his eyes again, Charley was sitting up, cross-legged in the bed, running his fingers through his own hair. He looked… well, fucking beautiful. Ruffled and tousled from sleep and Peter’s own hands, Charley was flushed, aroused, and he seemed… amazed, yet also a bit unsure. Expectant, maybe.
Peter gave his best slow, contented smile. Charley visibly relaxed and returned a small smile of his own.
“Good morning?” Charley offered, more of a question than a greeting.
“I should fucking think so, yeah,” Peter said, a laugh bubbling from him as he reached for Charley. “And I think it’s about to get a lot better.”
FIN