Page 73 of Charlie Sunshine
“Come here,” he says hoarsely.
I trip over my jeans trying to get to him. “Shut up,” I say direly, and he forces his smile away. I climb on the bed next to him and draw him to me. I’m cautious at first but when he hugs me back, I grab him fiercely. I kiss the side of his head and then his lips, feeling the soft fullness and nipping it gently. He moans, and I slide my hands down to cup his backside. “It’ssosexy,” I whisper. “Makes me hard to think of you in them.”
“Really?” He pulls back. “Some men don’t like it.”
“I’m not some bloke,” I say harshly. “I’myourbloke.”
“I know,” he whispers. “And you really like it?” he asks again.
I grab his hand and pull it down to my erection. “I like it,” I sayhoarsely. “Just thinking of you in those knickers did that to me.” He fists my cock, sliding his hand up and down, and I arch into his hand. “Yes, like that,” I mutter.
He looks down at the movement of his hand. “Harry said it was weird,” he says in a small voice that breaks my heart.
I reach down and remove his hand, lifting it to kiss his fingers. “Don’t talk about your ex when you’re holding my dick,” I say, and he smiles a little. I let his hand go and cup his face. “Charlie, that washisproblem and certainly not yours. You are the sexiest man I’ve ever known.”
He looks up, doubt in his face.
“You are, Charlie. I know because I’ve been with a few men.” When he gives me his skeptical expression, I huff. “Okay, a lot of men. But I’ve never had sex the way we have it.” I search for words. “It’s so hot and intense and real. It’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt. And every second of it I feel connected to you on a deep level and that’s the first time I’ve ever had that. And if you want to wear lace knickers, I think it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. Because it’syou, Charlie.”
“Really?” he says almost shyly. “I don’t wear them all the time. Just sometimes I like to feel… pretty.”
“Sunshine, you’re the prettiest man I know, and just the thought of your gorgeous body with those panties cupping your cock and snuggling your balls …” I swallow hard and shudder. “Fuck, I could come just from the thought.”
“You’re really turned on,” he says wonderingly, a smile dawning on his face. It’s sly and wicked and fucking amazing on those handsome features, and I love that I’m the only person who sees it. Just like I love that I see him grumpy and irritable occasionally. It’s a privilege to see beneath the shiny exterior he shows to the rest of the world.
“How about I wear some tonight?” he whispers in my ear, making me shudder and arch against him. “I can wear them and all night you’ll be the only person to know what’s under my clothes.”
“I’ve created a monster,” I say wonderingly.
He takes me down onto the bed and then straddles me, his dick hard and rubbing against my own. “Your monster,” he says, his gaze lowered to watch our dicks slide together.
“Only mine?” I say suddenly, an awful thought occurring to me. I twist my hand gently in his hair and raise his face. “Nobody else for you. I want you to be mine.”
The flush deepens on his cheeks. “Only yours and you’re only mine,” he vows and then he bends to kiss me.
Promises made in the no-man’s-land between arguing and sex.I like the us we’re creating, I have time to think, and then it’s a haze of fucking.
A few hours later, and I’d kiss a complete stranger’s feet for the chance to be back in bed. I don’t think Shakespeare is for me any more now than when I was at school. He uses four thousand words to say something that probably only needed four.
Admittedly, the Globe is beautiful. Founded by the actor Sam Wanamaker, it’s a reconstruction of the Elizabethan playhouse where Shakespeare’s plays were performed. Even I can sense that its atmosphere is special. A huge stage with a wooden floor draws the eye, and in front of it, open to the elements, is the standing area for the audience. Those poor sods not only run the risk of getting rained on, but the actors seem to use them as props, maneuvering around them before their entrances or standing amongst them. Charlie seemed to think it would be wonderful to watch from there, but I vetoed it. Shakespeare is bad enough at a distance, let alone having it bawled down your ear while your legs go to sleep.
We’re sitting at the front in the covered tiers of seating. It’s a chilly night, but the way we’re crowded into the seats means we’re sharing body warmth, so it’s not a huge problem. I shift position on the wooden bench and then shift again.
Charlie’s practically hanging over the railing looking at the crowd below. It’s intermission and noisy. He shoots me a glance. “You alright there? You look like you’ve got ants in your pants.”
“Where does that saying even come from? Who exactly was walking around in history with ants in their boxers?”
He settles back on the bench and whispers in my ear, “Well, thinkhow you’d feel if you’d had your arse rammed just before we came out?”
“Rammed? Oh, Charlie, I do love it so when you use your big librarian words. Talk to me about the Dewey Decimal System next. You know how that gets me going.”
He laughs. “You’re not worthy of my library speak. It brings all the boys to my yard.” I chuckle quietly and he shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re so uncomfortable anyway. We’ve got cushions.”
“Which I can’t believe we had to rent. Who gives you a seat and then makes you pay for the upholstery?”
“Stop complaining. You bankers are all the same. Money, money, money.”
I smile at him. “You enjoying yourself?”
