“Okay.” The grin never leaves his face and I roll my eyes. I set him down once we’re inside, and take off my own shoes and socks, then hang up my jacket. Charlie sets his shoes down and tells me he’s going to go take a bath. I settle on the sofa with my latest book and wait for him. He comes out about twenty minutes later, wearing sweats and a cropped T-shirt. I can’t keep the smile off my face, and I find myself once more wanting to get my mouth on that delectable midriff. He smirks at me when he catches my gaze on him, but I just clear my throat and go back to my book.
He moves closer and shoves my legs aside, taking his place next to me on the sofa, his own book in hand as he curls up in the corner.
“How was your bath?”
He gives me that award-winning smile. “Amazing. My feet still hurt, though.” He flexes his toes and it gives me an idea. I set my book aside and reach for his small feet, pulling them onto my lap. His eyes widen slightly.
“Are you giving me a foot massage?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not if you’re going to be a brat,” I reply. He laughs and leans back, his arm behind his head and his book abandoned on top of the couch.
“Nope, I’m going to be a very good boy.” My gaze shoots to his and he fucking winks at me, a one hundred watt smile on his face. Fucking hell, Charlie. His words go straight to my cock and I have to hold back a groan.
I take one foot in my hand and massage it. I’m no expert, but I do my best. I used to give Rachel foot rubs too and she seemed to enjoy them. His feet are so small my hands practically engulf them, and I can’t help loving it. He wiggles his toes and I laugh, and yet at the same time feel overcome with an intense desire to kiss them. They’re so fucking cute, and they smell amazing after his bath. Whatever he does to keep them so soft is working. Apparently I have a foot kink, or a toe kink. I can’t help it, I lean over and press my lips to his toes softly. He giggles, his toes twitching.
“I don’t believe that’s part of the typical massage package, Papa Bear,” he tells me. “But I’ll allow it.”
I bite my lip and smile at him. I press a few more kisses to his other toes as I continue to work on his foot. Christ this is turning me on. I want to lick and suck on them but I don’t let myself. This is already pushing things as it is, and I’m sure I’ll be beating myself up for it later.
I switch feet and give his left foot the same treatment, minus the kisses, until Charlie wiggles his toes at me, whining softly. I look at him and he pouts.
“This one feels left out.” I smile and take his foot in my hand before pressing tender kisses to all five toes. I look back at him then as I continue to massage it, and he beams at me. “You give the best toe kisses.”
“Maybe I should start a business.”
“Only if I’m your only customer.” My eyes meet his. His gaze is soft and his tone teasing, but I have a feeling he is being very serious. Why do I like that so much? The idea of him wanting to keep me for himself? I press kisses to the toes on his left foot one more time, then again to his right foot, before I move them both aside.
“Snack?” I ask. He looks at me for a second, then nods.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I make us a bowl of popcorn and return to the couch. I set it between us and we share it while we read our books. He seems antsy but doesn’t say anything. When the popcorn is gone, I move to put it back in the kitchen. When I come back I sit and Charlie shuffles close to me, then drapes the blanket on the back of the couch over us before we turn the tv on. His head rests on my shoulder as we watch an episode ofQueer Eye, his soft curls tickling my jaw and cheek, his hands gripping my arm. I tilt my head and press a kiss to his hair.
I want so much more. I want to feel him and know him in every way possible. I want my fingers in his hair and my lips on his neck, his chest, his hips, leaving my marks on his pale skin. I want to mark him as mine and never let him go. I want to know what he sounds like when he comes. I want to finally see if that gorgeous cock has all the freckles I imagine it does. I want to know what it feels like to have it pressed against me while I bury myself inside him, or to have it in my hand, soft and firm, stroking him while he moans my name. I want him to fall apart at my touch. I want to taste his release in my mouth. I want him more than my next breath.
But it’s not just his body I want. I want all of him; his past, his scars, his insecurities, and his demons. I want his future, his dreams, his hopes, and his ambitions. I want to be the one he talks to about his struggles, the one he laughs with, the one he comes to when he is hurting. I want to be the one who encourages and comforts him. I want to be his everything because that is what he is to me. And it scares the shit out of me, because I don’t have any right to want those things from him, for so many reasons.
How can someone I didn’t even know just three weeks ago suddenly be my whole world? How can I care for him this much? I wasn’t supposed to fall for someone again. I wasn’t supposed to risk that.
A moment later I hear his soft snores, so I turn the tv off and carry him to bed, tucking him in. I press another kiss to his hair and run my fingers through it. “Goodnight, beautiful boy,” I whisper, before leaving the room and closing the door behind me.
That night, sleep won’t come to me. I try to ignore my aching cock, but after an hour of lying in bed with a frustratingly painful hard on, I give up and slide my hand into my pajama pants, gripping myself through my boxers. I snap open the fly and moan as soon as my hand comes in contact with my bare length. It’s already leaking obscenely and the precum is the perfect lube. God, it feels so good. I haven’t done this in ages. I’m surprised I even remember how, but thankfully it’s just like riding a bike.
I close my eyes and moan as I move my hand up and down my thick shaft and circle the head.
I tell myself not to think of Charlie while I do, but it’s hopeless. The more I try not to think about him the more I inevitably do. His gorgeous smile and incredible laugh, his thick crimson locks, that breathtaking, lithe body, that tight ass, the way his hips sway when he dances. Heck, when he moves at all. God, I’m so gone on him. I hate myself for what I’m thinking, for the things I’m picturing. For the things I want to do to him, the things I want him to do to me.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t think these things, envision these things. But I’m so hard, and he’s so perfect, and I want him so badly.
I keep stroking as my chest tightens and tears slide down my cheeks. My balls draw up. I can’t stop, no matter how much I want to. No matter how much I fucking hate myself. I tell myself it’s just a phase. It’s just because I haven’t had sex in so long. I won’t do it again after this. Just this one time and I’ll be done. I’ll get him out of my system and I’ll be good.
My orgasm crashes over me. I come so hard I almost black out, biting my lip to keep from crying out Charlie’s name, as my hand fills with my release and slides down my side and onto the sheets. I breathe heavily and I wipe the tears from my eyes.
I’ll be fine. It was just this one time. Just this one.
ChapterTen
PAUL
