Where did that thought come from?
I swipe my thumb over our cockheads, gathering the precum to smooth the way. But it’s not enough, so I spit in my hand and mix it all together as I tighten my grip on our hard cocks.
“Why is that hot as fuck?” Charlie asks. He moans again, and I speed up, trying to hold back my orgasm so I can watch him come.
“Brad, yes. Don’t stop. Please—” He tightens in my arms and comes, his release coating my hand. I can’t hold back any longer and pleasure rockets through me as I press my nose against Charlie’s neck.
We lazily kiss again as I carry Charlie to the bed.
“I need to clean up. Take a shower.”
I shake my head and kiss him. “Not yet.” I find a washcloth in the bathroom and clean us both up. Then I lie beside him and pull him into my arms so I’m spooning him. “We can shower together if you want. But I’m not in my twenties anymore, so I need recovery time. And this.” I run my nose over the back of his neck, and he giggles.
“Brad Rathborn’s a snuggler? I’m learning so much.”
He turns his head to capture my mouth in a sweet kiss. This is unusual for me. I’m not usually emotional or clingy after sex, but Charlie has me wanting so much more that I never want to let go.
Later, we shower together, and Charlie gets so worked up when I’m washing his hair that I sink to my knees to finish the job. Afterward, I dry him off and carry him back to bed.
Sleep evades me, so I watch Charlie. The rise and fall of his chest. The flutter of his long lashes against his cheeks. His lipsas he mumbles something unintelligible. He’s beautiful. Angelic. Vulnerable.
In his work and in life, Charlie wants to be treated as an adult. But there are times, like tonight, when he needs someone to take care of him.
And I’m humbled by the fact that, for some reason, he picked me.
Saturday, January 17th
The next day, I’m expected at Chuck and Minni’s to watch the playoffs. Not showing up would bring questions I don’t want to answer.
My nerves are all over the place. What if they can tell?
“You’re late,” Chuck says from the couch. “The game’s already started.”
“Ignore him. No one’s even scored yet.” Minni squeezes my arm fondly and nods toward the kitchen. “You know where the food is.”
I grab a beer and study the table laden with snacks. How can I eat with my stomach churning? I swallow the guilt, load up on snacks, and find my usual spot on the couch. It’s the playoffs, and Chuck already gave me shit for missing the Kansas City game.
Does Charlie watch football? He didn’t in high school. But things might have changed. In fact, lots of things have changed. And nope. Not thinking about Charlie and last night.
“What’s up with you?”
“Hmm?”
Chuck pushes my arm, and I drop the salsa-covered chip I’d been holding and not eating.
“Asshole,” I grumble as I clean the mess, leaving a small stain on my jeans. The cheers from the game catch my attention. Chicago scored again, and I missed it. They make the extra point with ease. I’m not a Bears fan, so normally, I’d be yelling about this.
I’m not the only one missing the game. “Where did Minni go?”
“She got a call while you were zoned out.” He shifts, giving me his full attention even though the commercial is over. “What’s going on, Brad? And don’t say nothing.” He pins me with a look. He’s damn good at that. “You were acting weird yesterday too.”
“Just a lot going on,” I say, washing down the mild hysteria bubbling in my throat with another swig of my beer.
His gaze wanders in the direction of the kitchen. “The head of the school board is on a rant, but Minni’s been getting louder, so I’d say we have less than five minutes until she’s back. Spill the tea.”
“Don’t ever say those words again.”
He laughs. “Now you sound like Charlie.”
