Some Call It Luck Pt. 02

Finally, I can update this! Thanks for waiting. This is the second part to "Some Call it Luck," so you'll want to read that first if you have not. This is a very long story, slow burn, but it's worth it! (in my opinion). Please enjoy.

-

-

My body freezes.

"Lux called me earlier. She sent me some screenshots she found."

"What."

"I'm sorry, Andy. Holy shit," Charlie says, hands shaky as he slides over his phone.

What?

My eyes drift to the screen despite my brain wanting to shield me from this missile of information. I read the text messages on the screen between Lux and Charlie, as she says to call her back, and that she just found these messages after switching to her iPad for work. I click on the screenshot, and feel my heart pound as I read each one.

ChelZee: we won't get any time alone :(

DAX: Of course we will dummy : P I have a plan. Idk if I should tell you now or later though.

ChelZee: NOWWW babyyyy

DAX: Got tickets to a big opera. Lux can't resist, but you'll say you hate the idea, and go off alone. She'll livestream the whole thing nd stay behind. Text me that you need help or ur lost, and i'll leave her there for the show.

ChelZee: Ooh. I love you <3 literally perf

DAX: Like I'd take u to London and not fuck you while we're here, silly little girl.

I don't really need to, nor do I want to, read any more.

"Oh."

"... Andy?"

"Are they coming back, then?"

Charlie shakes his head. "Lux says she's not going to tell them she knows yet. Are you okay?"

Good question. "It's only the second day of the trip, wow."

Charlie nods, grabbing his own drink, and he begins to chug. "Fuck. This campaign is gonna be hard to make. I'm drinking a lot."

-----------------------

"I'm just sitting in a hotel room eating fucking grapes with curlers in my hair, Charlie," Lux's voice on the speaker sounds raspy. Worn-out. It's 11pm now. Not sure what time it is in London.

"They have some nerve, really," Charlie says. "I'm so sorry, Lux. This is insane. You're going to stay the whole trip?"

"Are you kidding? I'm spending Dax's credit card until it declines over the next five days, then I'm flying home without telling them. Unless you want me to drag Chelsea back."

"Five days is a lot of days," I comment. Lux sighs. "It's Andy, by the way."

"Andy? Oh, hon. How are you holding up?"

"Doing alright," I reply.

"Sounds amazing. I'm going to go eat more bland food and watch soap operas. Bye Andy. Charlie."

Lux hangs up.

Charlie's face is nearly sick, and I can tell he's more than pissed off. He's livid. It's worse, because he's almost smiling, and I can hear tiny, crazy, one-off laughs from him between drinks, and then he shakes his head, reverting to anger again.

"What the fuck," he says.

"Six month rule," I explain, taking another sip. "Me. It's a me thing. Don't worry about it."

Charlie blinks at me, and then he takes a large swig. "Explain, Jock."

"My relationships always hit the six month mark. Then something... 'happens,' I guess. It spells doom. I've learned that it... might just be my life."

"... You only date girls for six months," Charlie frowns.

"No, no. I mean... it's hindsight. The coincidence thing."

Charlie nods. "That's why you're acting like you don't care. Guess you saw it coming. I'm personally a little fuckin' floored."

I stand up. "Hey, I didn't foresee my girlfriend cheating on me with that coiffed-haired fuck, alright?" I snap. "I'd prefer if it was something like... 'oh, my girlfriend is weirdly religious and I found out after six months' or like... 'she's trying to force me to go vegan'. Hell, I'd take the 'my girlfriend's brother is a porn star' thing. That's what I thought the Six Month Curse was this time anyway."

"I'm not a fucking porn star. That is the craziest thing I ever fucking did and I never did it again. You don't think it spelled doom that you've watched a homemade gay porno enough times to recognize me?"

I toss my hands up, speaking softer. "I'm sorry. You're pretty fucking recognizable."

"Because you've wanted to fuck me for five years," Charlie snaps. "Here you are with a girlfriend."

"Didn't you just have a beard a bit ago?"

"I'm not gay," Charlie says.

I don't mean to laugh, but indeed, that's what happens. "You are what gay looks like in a dictionary."

Charlie flicks his cup at me, and it's just ice and droplets of the last of his drink, but I'm caught off guard as it drips down my face and my chest.

For a moment, we both just stare at each other.

"Holy shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Charlie whispers. "Ah... shit. I'm sorry. You're the one who got cheated on. I'm... an idiot."

I rub my face, the sting of ice already going away. "She's your sister. And Dax is your friend."

"Dax is no longer any fucking friend of mine. How long has this been going on?" Charlie gasps, smacking his own face with both hands, Home Alone style. "Dax... is Dustin. 'Married guy.' Fucking idiot, Chuck what the hell."

It makes sense. I try to get more broken up over it, but just like Charlie, I've decided to drown out my emotions with alcohol. I'm doing a better job, however. Charlie is distraught and disgraced. I try to yank it from within my gut: the disappointment, the sadness, or even shock. At the very least, I should be shocked. I'm not sure why I can't muster up surprise at being cheated on, even by someone who I thought would never do such a thing.

"Wait, what's Dax's real name?" I ask aloud, pondering. What a stupid nickname anyway.

"Daniel I think? I don't know..."

He can have her.

I sit up straight on the couch. What a callous thought. He can have her? How did I come to that conclusion so fast? After feeling so much levity at the sight of Chelsea 48 hours ago or so, now I've essentially accepted betrayal and defeat. This is where I should be possessive and upset. Dax of all people. I actually forgot what he looked like.

"I have the key to Dax's house," Charlie comments, still staring off into the distance. "If it weren't for Lux, I'd trash it. Damn cybertruck..."

I look at him to see how serious he is about this, because his voice sounds like it's a long-lost wish of his. I try to keep up some facade of anger or at least frustration. I try to muster up something, especially given Charlie's obvious anger. I barely feel a thing other than...

Relief.

"The hot tub work?" I ask, hearing my own voice boom louder than I intended. Then I look at the empty bottle of gin. Gin? Why is this Charlie's drink of choice?

"What's wrong with you?" he asks.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell," I comment, standing up for the first time in a while. I instantly wobble, and my eyes widen. Charlie doesn't seem to catch it, and I straighten out my shirt. "Does it work?"

"Do you even care that you got cheated on?"

"Do you care that we've split a bottle of gin and I'm probably trying not to think about it?" I ask, looking out toward the backyard. "Do people with two bedrooms usually have a pool and a hot tub?"

Charlie stares at me for a moment, an exaggeratedly annoyed look on his face. "You have to shower first."

"Roger," I nod, slowly making my way to my room to grab my things. I don't think I brought swim trunks, and I groan to myself. If Charlie weren't so high-maintenance, he'd let me hop in the hot tub with a spare pair of shorts on, but he's Charlie. Though our woodworking journey has been really smooth so far, he is definitely more of a neat freak than I am.

I turn back around to tell him I changed my mind, when I see a drawer. The potential of there being some swim trunks in there, in a size I could squeeze on, was slim to none.

The chance that I fling it open and find something I'm not supposed to see, pretty much 100%. Which is what happens, of course, as I slam it shut and hope the realistic-looking dildo doesn't shift around the bottle of lube or the condoms too much. I thought this was a guest room.

My first thought is that the dildo looks kind of small, no?

I pull open the drawer again, getting a good look at the toy. It's overly "human" colored, a weird tan-pink that could be any race. I'm by no means going to reach in and grab the thing, but I wonder what the point of getting a five inch dildo is, when you can go bigger and better. Not that five inches is small, but if you're buying something--

Not that bigger is always better, I just figured... given Charlie's history...

I shake my head to snap out of it, snapping the drawer closed, and turn around. Just to jump out of my skin at the sight of Charlie in the doorway. "Shit! Jesus--"

"Snooping?" he asks. I'm just wondering why he lied to me before in front of Dax about his sexuality. Not like I care. I mean, I in particular care a little bit, but that was because of his confirmed ability to take two dicks at once, not because he's so damn pretty and soft-looking.

"I-I don't... um..." I end up stupidly glancing at the drawer again. "I don't have trunks. I won't hot tub tonight. It's cool.

Charlie raises a brow. "Are you going to be weird if I tell you I usually go naked because this is my house?" He doesn't give me the chance to respond before walking away. "Up to you. I'm going to bed anyway."

I'm not sure if I automatically expected him to join me. Not sure if the feeling in my chest is disappointment or annoyance. He just suggested I skinny dip in his hot tub. "Hey, Charlie?"

He steps back. "What's up?"

"You don't have to entertain me anymore here. I can find a flight and head out, seriously. It was strange enough before Chelsea cheated. Now I feel like I'm crowding your space... literally for no reason."

Charlie shakes his head. "I only have so much energy to keep telling you that I want to finish the dresser, Andy. Seriously. Consider it paying you back for my sister being a dumbass if you think I'm grinding teeth."

This time, he walks away swiftly, and I figure he's going to do what he said he would.

I shower thoroughly, unsure why I feel like he'd judge otherwise. I see the dirt fall off of me from our woodworking day, and scrub a little extra. I give my hair an extra scrub, too, just in case some sawdust got caked into the sweat, which usually happens.

When I'm squeaky clean, I finally make my way to the hot tub.

Floored, when I see the golden wisps of blonde hair, illuminated by the porch light, and a few lights from the pool.

Is he naked?

That's my first thought. Then I realize, of course he is. He told me he would be. He also said he'd be going to bed. So I'm not sure.

I've already committed to opening the door, and the sound has made him tilt his head a bit. I see a wine glass. Still drinking, I suppose.

I didn't realize how hard the alcohol hit me until I was in the shower. Charlie is a trooper.

I approach quietly, but I feel like it's too quiet, so I clear my throat as I sit by the hot tub in my sweats, towel slung over my shoulder. Charlie doesn't look. Do I want him to look? I'm only shirtless...

Get it together, Andy.

"How hot is hot?" I ask. Charlie finally turns my way. "I'm a wimp, alright?"

"Not extremely. You'll be fine," Charlie says solemnly. There's one light in the water, and it doesn't reveal any clear picture of what's beneath the surface, but I can tell that Charlie is indeed nude. As promised. My half-drunken brain wants to convince me that he said that to pique my curiosity. I wonder if he changed his mind about going to bed.

Thinking of me. Seeing him naked. Or maybe...

I shove the thought into the back of my mind, despite my mind telling me that I really, really should dedicate a moment to horning out about him to just get it over with. I need to do it when he's not around me. I should just delve into the fantasy. I used to wish I was one of the men in the video starring him. Now...

I could strip off my pants, splash into this hot tub, crush him against the side of it and take him right here. I could drink another two glasses of alcohol and build up to it, flirting with him subtly... I could...

I have to stop myself. I should've gone to bed when I saw him in the hot tub, and came up with an excuse later. I need a moment. To just... let him consume my thoughts.

Not while he's right beside me.

I've mindlessly made my way to the edge of the hot tub, and Charlie sort of makes a show of looking away from me, off past the rustic metal bars of his backyard fence, and into the city night. My time to strip. I quickly kick my pants away, not allowing Young Andy to even think about getting hard while I'm outside the water. Charlie hasn't even warranted an erection yet. He's just here.

As soon as I'm immersed in the water, a meter or so away, Charlie turns back, sighing out, and relaxing deeper into the heat. I don't want to look like a pussy, so I bear the heat and force my body to get used to it, trying not to clench.

The quiet is eerie. The water splashing accentuates it. "This is nice."

"Good for the muscles. We've been working hard," Charlie sighs, stretching his neck.

I see that there's another glass, empty. I'll pretend not to notice. Everything in me resists my mind going down this dark, obvious path. I just want to know if Charlie is teasing me. If I just ask him about it, would he consider it too far? He is the one who told me not to get in his pants before we even worked on the dresser. Things are different... now that Chelsea cheated.

No. They're not. What am I even talking about?

Charlie wouldn't think about me like that regardless of the circumstance. Whether he knew that I knew about him, whether or not Chelsea cheated on me, it doesn't matter either way. I have no chance. Not that I want one.

He takes a long drink of wine, and sighs out. "Are you etching tomorrow?" he asks. I nod. "I'll help with whatever you need. I'm not great at woodcarving and whittling, but I can work with any measurements."

I'm sure you can. Even eight and a half inches.

"Of course. Thanks again, man."

I'm not sure what I expected, but absolutely nothing has happened that wouldn't happen with any two sane people working on a project together. About forty minutes later, I feel like I could nod off after a glass of wine, and Charlie and I turn away from each other, exiting the hot tub, and going our respective ways to bed.

*-'+*`~ **^~'*

I must've stumbled around in a sleepwalk style mission, as I find myself in the kitchen with a glass of water, thirsty as fuck. The last thing I remember was the room being so hot, I was choking on my own tongue.

The cup of water looks like melted diamonds, an oasis for my dehydrated body. The hot tub, of course, will do that to you.

I chug it down, the drink only lasting for a moment before I'm gasping, filling up the cup again and practically moaning as I quench the craziest thirst of my life. Three cups later, I finally catch my breath.

Then I look down. Is this why? I'm painfully hard, sticking straight out in my sweatpants. Would that make someone extra dehydrated? At least light headed.

Suddenly, I feel like I'm being watched, and I close the fridge, all the light in the room disappearing, save for a patch of moon blue from the window. It illuminates the counter, and I swear there's ten bottles of various shooters, beers, and other alcohol, just lit up by the moonlight. Did I drink that?

No, no, it was... him...

I look up, and suddenly, he's stepping right up to me.

"I was wondering what that noise was," he says, voice clear, cutting through the silence. "You okay?"

"Sorry... I got really thirsty... um..." I don't know why on earth I'm looking down, right at the rifle pointed at Charlie's navel from my pants. Charlie looks down too, and he tilts his head.

"Oh."

I'm frozen in place as he just eyes it, not having any particularly strong reaction. Then he looks up at me.

"No wonder you were confused about the fake dick in my room."

"What?"

Even in the dark, he looks impossibly sharp, mysterious... gorgeous. Somehow, I can see every crystalizing shade of his hazel-ish eyes. Even as he says this.

"You're way bigger than that, right?" he asks, voice soft. "Way bigger..." Suddenly, his hands slide down as smooth as butter, and he steps close to me. "I know I'm a little drunk but, ha... you're hard to ignore. I didn't want you to stay."

His hand wraps around my cock, and I wonder when I dropped my pants down around my ass in the first place, Charlie's fist barely wrapping around my length as he begins stroking.

"I'm glad I stayed," I admit, and Charlie smiles softly, looking back down.

"It's the biggest one I've ever seen, Andy. Are you actually going to fuck me with this?"

"Obviously. That's why you let me stay. You probably wanted me to fuck you before I even told you about the video."

Charlie's hands work around my cock seamlessly, and he nods. "God, I can't wait for you to wake up."

"Me neither," moan, dropping my pants.

"Wake uuuupppp Andy," he says in a sing-songy voice, and the tiny, drawn out laugh he does tickles at my skin.

"Fuck, yes, yes, I'll do it--"

"... Are you gonna wake up?" Charlie asks, face suddenly shockingly close to mine, eyes wide, smile in a toothy grin.

I gasp so hard I practically collapse my lungs as I sit up in bed. I look at the clock.

Fucking hell. It's 9:07.

God, what was that dream? My heart beats so hard and fast, I wonder if I actually came on myself for a moment as I look down, and shove my hand into my own pants.

Nope, just stony hard. Sweating enough to fuel an engine. Needing to bust like crazy.

Hell, the anxiety I have about him almost made the last part of that dream a little scary. I mean, I'm clearly intimidated by Charlie. There's a lot of reasons to be. But I don't want to screw him that bad. I don't! Not enough to warrant such a wild, vivid fantasy.

Quickly, I almost run to the bathroom, put on the sink and the shower, and do the wildest, quickest jerk session I've ever done. The precum and sweat has my hand sliding around with no need for a spit take.

God, all my critiques of porn, and that's what my brain comes up with on its own. We didn't even get very far in the dream.

I end up cumming so hard, I bite my own tongue, drawing blood. I whimper out a pitiful sound as I shoot into the toilet the best I can, and then start peeing immediately after, bringing the sting of tears to my eyes.

"Fuck," I groan, beginning to clean up immediately afterward. Not only am I late, but I'll have to face Charlie after my brain made a mockery of him in my dreams.

I rush into the garage at 9:20-ish to find Charlie munching on orange slices in a comfy chair, playing on his phone. I half expected to be embarrassed to see him having accomplished a wild amount of work for the time I was dozing off--having that insane dream--but he hasn't touched anything. Not sure why I'm flattered. He waited.

"Hey," he calls as I stumble in, out of breath. "Sleep good?"

"I'm sorry, shit. You could've woken me up." Don't ask about my sleep right now.

Charlie shakes his head. "I can find ways to entertain myself in my own house, don't worry. Also, I believe in letting people sleep when they need to sleep." He stands up, dusting himself off. "You okay?"

"Yeah of course, why?" I ask.

His face twists up, and he shakes his head. "Geez."

I smack my hands together. "Ah, Chelsea. It doesn't seem real, so." It really doesn't. I kind of keep forgetting what she's doing, remembering every couple hours. "I just want to work on my final, take the videos and pictures I need, and dive into the work."

Charlie nods. "I mean. I get it. Also, it's not like you can really call her names or vent in front of her brother."

Just let us start working.

"Man, I don't know. I should be pissed. I'm just in disbelief that it's Dax. He's barely scraping by as a human, so. Clearly I'm not the specimen I thought I was," I sigh, biting into a muffin and barely tasting it. "Or I'm not what Chelsea wants, whatever. I don't care."

Charlie eyes me for a moment, then he facepalms. "She's a dumbass sometimes. You deserve... better." Then he nods, strengthening his statement. "You really do deserve better than anyone cheating on you. I'm sorry this happened. Really. When you get to be my age, you realize that people really don't, uh... have the maturity to want to make things last. But you shouldn't take it personally. Can't take it personally."

He sounds nothing like he did in my dream, of course. Charlie's voice in real life has just the slightest fry, as if he used to smoke a little. It's not what I should be paying attention to at all.

"Thanks, man." I know I don't sound convincing. "I guess it's probably my fault, though. I told you about the six-month thing."

Charlie shakes his head. "You're a damn catch. I don't care what people say; attractive people have a hard time dating. People take us for granted. Think that we're dumb. So weird." Charlie puts on some early 2000s rock, and he begins setting up his station. I don't have the time to mill through his comment before he keeps going. "You get taken advantage of when you're hot, ugly, smart, dumb... all for no reason most of the time. People just like playing games."

I shrug. "I'm sure the modeling industry is just full of honest, reliable potential partners who aren't shallow in the slightest."

Charlie laughs hard, tossing his head back. "You know it, Andy," he continues sarcastically. "It's really fun when someone approaches you saying they'll give you 35% if you wanna be in an 'influencer-based relationship' with them."

"Ugh, seriously? I can't even imagine," I shake my head. Charlie groans.

"You have no idea. I stopped going to parties because there would be timed paparazzi and photo ops to make it seem like I was talking to some du--" Charlie stops himself, coughing. "Some dumb model or something. Just a bunch of people chasing the camera at all times, wanting to make me another decoration."

Some dude, huh? Why won't he just admit it? "Can't relate."

Charlie gives me a funny Look. "Sure. All these six-month flings of yours seem to say otherwise."

"I don't only date girls for six months. I said this already," I sigh, gathering my sketches. "Not like I'm sitting here thinking 'oh, let me date this girl to look good in some pictures and brag to my friends and make money.'"

He laughs a bit. "I mean... do you know how many girls have dated you to show you off to their friends and brag? You're almost 6'5", you're still wearing Sperrys, which is an innocent preppy-boy thing to do at this point in life considering you had to find them in your size. You're nice, attractive obviously, and you work in construction, so. You have some cash. You obviously weren't a frat boy but got approached a billion times about it, which is honorable in a weird way."

I'm just thinking about how Charlie has eluded to me being attractive more than once now, and apparently it's 'obvious.' I'll bounce away from the topic. If he comes back to it on his own...

"Maybe I should stop dating," I sigh. "Have fun. Explore my options."

I'm probably imagining the blush on his cheeks. "That's the spirit. Hey, before you get into that, eat something, alright?"

"Indeed."

--------

It's hitting about 2pm when we hear thunder outside, and Charlie decides to close the garage to avoid any rain damage to the dresser. It's starting to really look like it did on paper now. Even better, actually. I notice that Charlie doesn't move on after a piece is stable. He makes sure it's perfectly aligned, shaving off excess, adding roughage at the connecting beams, all these little details that he just considers standard, since he doesn't seem to ask me.

I'm getting hungry again and realize how dehydrated I am as I gulp down another water bottle. I'm hit with the dream again, and shake it off. I promise myself that I'll get out all my Charlie-centric jitters tonight, so I can get over it.

I forget to pause for some eats, and Charlie is enveloped in a sanding routine that I won't dare interrupt at the moment. I am about to officially screw in the base, but I pause as I inspect the dresser.

I shake my head, looking at the sides of the project. "Of course, I'm the one who fucked up on the boards," I realize aloud, looking at the frontward tilt of my creation. Charlie looks over, stopping what he's working on.

"What's up?"

"It's totally uneven on the left side. Shit. I knew, too, because I didn't do the--"

"I noticed. I didn't know if you meant it that way. It's the same way on the other side, too, actually," he hops up. "Wanna even it out? It'll take a second."

Might as well get to it while it's hot. I stare for a second. "I don't wanna detach it, seriously. That's a lot of take down, some of the pegs might break...."

"If you lift it, I'll saw it off quickly. No problem," Charlie shrugs. "I can eyeball it, but if you want me to measure a little line, I can."

He's speedy as hell, so I trust him to pull it off. Teakwood is heavy, though. "I'll lift it. It'll be what, three minutes?"

"Not even. Hand me the ruler for good measure."

Before long, I'm holding up the dresser from the bottom, usually a big no-no, but I have Charlie helping. After a minute, I'm embarrassed to be straining a little, but the position isn't ideal. I grunt to adjust, and feel the sweat drip down my damn forehead. Charlie works as quickly as he can, but he has to crouch all the way down to his knees to draw the line. It's a tense minute while I do my best not to let on that my half-squat is punching at my knees, and end up putting more work into my arm strength.

Charlie finally finishes drawing the line. "Shit. Sorry. That took forever. Let me buzz this part off real quick--" He looks up at me, but he's basically blocked by my arm. I only see half his face, his eyes, but I'm not imagining the exhale of air, the blush that rises to his cheeks as he takes a second too long to look at my bicep basically stretching my t-shirt sleeve for all it's worth. He looks down quickly, and I swear he shakes his head.

"Ready?" he asks, voice airy and faux-nonchalant. I'm not sure what I need to be ready for, aside from keeping this thing in place.

"Go ahead."

The intensity kicks up instantly. I don't know what it is about the human body and the response we have to vibrations, but as soon as the mini hand-saw is going, the air becomes thicker than butter. It doesn't help that the music has turned off at this point, too.

I don't realize how much I'm sweating until I feel another drop make its way down my nose, and before I can do a damn thing about it, it drops right down.

Onto Charlie's cheekbone.

Before I can even react, another drop falls right onto his forehead. His brain seems to put it together immediately, and he even jumps a little. I watch as his entire face goes bright red, and he turns off the saw while it's stuck in the wood, and he quickly shoulders off the trailing beads of my sweat.

"Shit. Shit I'm sorry," he says with an uncharacteristic franticness, and he runs to a drawer, digging through it. He seems to find what he's looking for before I get a chance to ask, and he puts on his protective gloves. He looks up at me bashfully. "Gonna cut my own damn thumb off, ha. Alright. Ready?"

"I'm sweating like a damn pig. Sorry, man. I should be--"

Charlie simply starts up the saw again, interrupting me, and he cuts through quickly. Perfectly. Three times as fast as he was working before. "Nice. Alright. Other side?"

He hasn't needed gloves this whole time. To think I flustered him that much.

After we even out the dresser, Charlie disappears for a couple minutes, and when he comes back, I notice he has a band-aid on his thumb. I'm smacked with guilt. Here I was revelling in the idea that I got him hot and bothered, and his actual safety was risked.

"I'll get lunch," I volunteer. "This is a good stopping point."

"Oh I'll grab it, it's okay--"

"It's the least I can do," I insist, probably a little stronger than I should. "What do you wanna eat?"

___________________

I wasn't exactly enthused to pay money for a salad, but Charlie insisted that's what he wanted, so I felt inclined to do a healthy option as well, despite him telling me that I should get whatever I wanted. I'm not sure if I was afraid he'd judge me, or if I felt like matching him would make him feel better. As if he had a good idea or something. To make up for sweating on him and making him cut his thumb.

The thought process worked out in the end, as Charlie was enthusiastic to trade salad toppings and dressings to try.

As we spent the rest of the day perfecting little details before I did any more carving for the decorative parts, I realized that we likely wouldn't be able to begin the sphinxes yet. Yet another day added, despite the fast pace.

Anxious as I was to get going, I also felt like my body was in vacation mode. Despite working on my final, despite Chelsea cheating, and this entire awkward situation, I've managed to stay focused. And relatively calm. It's not like my mind isn't wandering every so often. Like when we clean up for the day, and I notice that Charlie has managed to sweat up a storm himself; the clothes he's sweat through are a darker tint, especially at his lower back, and in the crease of his sweatpants at his hips where he sat down for the last few hours.

Chelsea runs hot. I wonder if he does, too.

He pays for dinner, and he has a salad again. I see him eyeing the double cheeseburger I've ordered. Model life. Campaign bullshit, he says. I have to ask, even as I wipe burger and bacon grease from my mouth. "Is it worth it?"

"Mmm?"

"Being a model. I-I don't mean like, 'how much money do you make' or anything. Just wondering. Day two of straight up salads to get a few pictures and videos..."

Charlie's eyes widen, and he does that fake laugh again. "You realizing how vain my job is?" Charlie asks, eyes narrowing, but a smirk on his face.

"I think if people want you to model, they should just let you show up how you show up. I mean, you booked the gig because of the way you look, so..."

"Maybe I should develop some gnarly acne to accent the clothes we're advertising," Charlie shrugs sarcastically. "You're right. Give me a bite." He snatches up a few fries from my spread and dramatically chows them down.

"Woah, woah," I complain, shielding my to-go box, shooing him away. "Aggressive."

"Not even," Charlie scoffs, reaching again. I gently swat his hand away, and he feigns offense. "You hit me. Oh my god." He cradles his hand, and I only hang my head in mock-shame.

"You're so dramatic." Then I remember that he cut his thumb earlier, and I snatch his left hand to look at it. The mark has already begun to scab where the skin was sliced through, but it's a deep bitter red and radiating pink where the cut is. "Thought it was worse."

Charlie snatches his hand back, and this time, his frown is serious. "What the hell? I didn't even mention it."

My turn to get defensive. "No, that's not what I meant! I mean I'm glad it wasn't worse. Not that you... were being sensitive to bandage it earlier. Sorry."

He scrunches his nose in a familiar way, and I watch him try not to pout, but fail. "It's whatever." He must be embarrassed. I mean, I literally sweat on him. "I'm not perfect. Not like I've never injured myself woodworking before." Oh. It's a pride thing. Nothing to do with me.

I kind of want to make it about me.

"Let me see," I nod, holding my hand out to take his. Something I'd never do with some other guy. I wonder how he'll take the gesture.

Apparently, not very well. Charlie gets that cat-like grumpy frown on his face again, and he turns away this time, simply sticking his thumb in my face rather than letting me touch him. "See? Not bad."

I grab his hand anyway, inspecting the cut. "I'd feel better if you wore gloves," I say softly. He tries snatching his hand back, but this time, I don't let him. At the resistance, he whips his head back to look at me, instantly getting red at his cheekbones.

He's always quick to blush too, I've noticed. It's... too enticing, to say the least. That he can't seem to hide when he's bothered.

"Condescending as fuck," Charlie snaps, yanking his hand again. I press my thumb into the palm of his hand before letting it slip away. Subtle, but... seemingly effective.

Effective in doing what exactly? What the fuck am I trying to do?

This game... it's dangerous. We still have work to do. I still have his sister to break up with. I... really like watching him continually remember every so often that I have seen him getting fucked by two men. It flashes across his face, and he always shakes his head once to try and shove it away. At least, that's what I think it is.

Calm down.

By the time I focus on my food again, Charlie is tensely keeping to himself, picking at his leafy greens. He's pouting again. At least I think he is, though he's trying to hide it by clearing his throat and playing on his phone. Turning away from me.

We keep it friendly, mostly cordial, until it gets to be around 11pm again, and I wonder if he's going to bed. It's always awkward staying over somewhere, wondering when someone wants you to hurry up and go to sleep, not wander around their place. I tend to be a night owl. I wonder if he'll get annoyed if I want to use the hot tub again, like his place is a hotel or something.

I flip through channels on the TV after showering, and he seems to be ready to turn in. I decide to go to bed too, as to not annoy him. When I stand up, heading to my temporary room, Charlie stops me. "You're not going to use the spa?"

"Spa?" I mock him.

"Shut up. Nevermind. Hot tub privileges revoked," he says quickly.

"I didn't wanna be annoying."

"You're 24. So you're annoying by default."

"I'm 23."

Charlie's eyes narrow. "At least lie," he mumbles.

"Like you?"

He crosses his arms. "I was kidding, but now..." he trails off. "Whatever. I'm going to bed. You're a pseudo frat-boy who obviously wants to use the amenities, so. Go ahead."

I don't give up so easily, curiosity piqued. "Why lie about my age? You're 31, aren't you?"

Charlie blushes, and I feel my own heart start pounding at the sight. It feels like a show or a privilege to see it; the live view of watching his face pink over as he obviously hates it, but can't fight his reaction.

"To most people."

My turn to get embarrassed. "Really? H-how--"

Charlie shakes his head. "Not even Chelsea knows." He begins going upstairs, then he turns around, the look on his face adding another amazing expression to the Charlie Face Bank. "I'll. Never. Tell you. Goodnight."

Well, that sealed the deal on fapping to the idea of him tonight.

Younger? Unlikely. Is he a whole decade my senior? The thought has me on autopilot as I suddenly find myself in the hot tub, naked, thinking of how if this situation were slightly different--if Chelsea hadn't cheated, if I hadn't found the laptop to confirm it, if I didn't tell him that I knew--things would be a million times easier. But I take everything he says to heart. Every expression burns into my brain. His voice might start giving me chills involuntarily if I think about it too much.

I should be getting used to him the longer we spend together. I should be bringing the idea of him down to Earth, here. Not crafting all the scenarios where it might be appropriate to screw him.

Which is no scenario. Because I'm not gay. Who cares if this happens to be the one guy I'd fuck in a heartbeat? Who cares if I've had these exact thoughts sixty-plus times before I even met the fuckin' guy? Who cares that this is quite literally a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and my girlfriend happened to cheat on me and I happened to find out about it while I'm with said guy who I'd fuck without shame?

I cover my face, shaking my head. Charlie would hate if he knew, but I'm gonna have to beat off before I lose my mind. Then I'll come back and actually relax in this hot tub. Maybe I'll grab a drink, too.

Not three minutes later, I'm drying off as much as possible to go back to my room, and it's dark in the house, so I tiptoe inside. Hopefully he doesn't think there's something wrong. I pause for a moment, not hearing anything from upstairs. Coast clear, I'm making my way through the hall and swing open the door, only to be scared shitless.

"Ah!"

"AH!" Charlie slams the bedside table drawer closed, and he's wide-eyed. I flip on the light, and he shields his face to adjust to the light. "Shit! Sorry! Sorry, sorry--s-sorr--um... my bad--"

I realize what he seemed to be grabbing, and I remember that I'm sporting quite the erection in this towel around my waist, and as soon as I think about it, Charlie seems to notice, blinking a few times and turning away with a blush all the way up to his ears, opening the drawer, and snatching the dildo and the lube. He huddles them in his arms, and he ducks as he nearly runs from the room.

"SorryIleftafewthingsinhere!" Charlie squeaks, and I hear the patter of his feet as he dashes upstairs. I almost didn't understand him. "Ithoughtyou'dbeinthehottub!" he says from upstairs.

"My bad!" I call, frozen and partially in the doorway still. I hear the patter of footsteps on the stairs again, and my hair stands up on the back of my neck. I turn slowly, finding Charlie looking at me with his lips pinched between his teeth, eyes panicked.

"I um... I forgot I left... stuff... s-so I wanted to grab it. Before you saw."

I saw all that shit a long time ago. "Hmm? Stuff? I didn't see any stuff," I huff, shaking my head.

"No?"

"No. I've never seen anything before."

Charlie nods quickly, and he runs back upstairs. I facepalm at my own lack of tact, and the fact that I subconsciously was trying to hide my erection with my own forearm.

Fuck everything else. The real question is: why does he need it now?

I don't exactly mean to slam the door closed, but that's exactly the fuel I needed.

My towel is tossed to the side as I think about him upstairs right now, probably not using that dildo yet but certainly thinking about it. Probably spooked enough by my presence that he'll wait until I'm certainly outside to do whatever he wants to do. Maybe he's thinking about me. The fact that anyone with two eyes can tell that I easily dwarfed that toy he grabbed just now.

I wrap my hand around my cock before snatching it back, wondering if it's a bad idea. Of course it is. I look at the drawer, and remember that there was more than one bottle of lube.

I could laugh. I slide the drawer open, spotting the second, unopened tiny bottle, and decide to use it. Graciously. Enough that he knows I used some. It won't go to waste.

My eyes close as I stroke along the entire length, thinking of him. How nervous he must be right now. How anxious he must be to know I'm packing like this, and we've been dancing around each other when we... could be...

As I get to the tip, twisting my wrist, my mind snaps to the thought of Charlie taking that flesh-colored dildo. Him now, as he is, in his home, not in some basement for a performance. Pure desire behind him taking it in the ass. God, I wish he would just make use of me instead. I look down at my own length, stroking at a medium pace, imagining him, his perfectly pink lips, his mouth, his hands, the cut on his thumb that I wish I'd licked or something when I had his damn hand in mine, his perfect ass that he can't completely hide under his protective clothes, his body, probably a full seven inches shorter than my own, fuck, Charlie--

Just as I feel myself on the come up, I see my phone light up, and it vibrates with the facetime call.

Fuck her. I should ignore it. Fuck her. Fucking fuck.

I snatch up my phone.

We hadn't discussed it specifically, but I'm assuming none of us are letting on that we know about Chelsea and Dax. I don't think I've ever missed a call from Chelsea.

"Hey, hey," I say softly.

"Ohhhh, shit. I bet it's almost midnight, huh? Sorry I didn't call yesterday. I mean 'today'."

"I didn't notice."

Chelsea frowns. "Huh?"

I cough. "Ah, me and Charlie worked longer than usual. It was a busy day."

"How's Charlie? He's a night owl, so I bet he's up, still," Chelsea says.

"He hurt his thumb. He went to bed," I say. As if those correlate. "I think he was uh... prideful about hurting himself, so." I give a half-smile, and feign tiredness with a yawn.

"Sounds very Charlie," Chelsea giggles. I nod, glancing down at my cock, which has deflated quickly. Damn it. I was on a roll, too.

"How's... wherever you are now?"

"Still London. And... ummm... uber magical? Amazing beyond amazing? Would be better if my boyfriend were here? The usual," she winks. To avoid sucking my teeth, I simply nod, putting on a big grin.

"Fun," I say softly. "Hey, let's talk when I don't think I'm gonna wake your brother from his slumber, alright?" I really just don't feel like putting up with this right now. I wish I were more mad about the cheating, but I'm really pissed that I decided to stop jacking off for this shitty conversation.

"Uh oh. You must've gotten a Cranky Charlie today," she teases. "Tell me about it when you get some sleep, okay?"

"Cool, will do," I nod. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Just over a week ago, I was concerned with when to start saying 'I love you' to this girl. Weird.

I look at the mess I started, begrudgingly deciding to try again, but it all seems too silly now. After a few minutes of trying to conjure up Charlie the way he was in my head just a bit ago, all I can think of is how tired I am.

I wipe up everything, and simply go to bed.

----------------

I decide to work extra hard today; finishing this project early would be the best course of action from here on out. I hadn't considered that it wouldn't take me and Charlie actually messing around to make things unbearably awkward between us.

I can't help but want to tease him for his bad timing or something, just to break the tension we've only stirred up by "good mornings" thus far. To see if we can at least joke about it. I might've pushed the line by grabbing at him so much yesterday. I wonder if I was too gung-ho about my conclusion, too. He might not have actually used the items from the drawer, but like he said, wanted to snatch it before I saw it.

At least put on music, I think to myself, eating an almond poppyseed muffin, and this time, strawberries. Charlie has made breakfast sausages, which he doesn't seem to touch. Just for me again. Am I supposed to not read into that?

The routine should be just that--routine. Every day feels like a new roller coaster of tension.

Finally, hours later, he breaks the silence. "Lunch?"

"More rabbit food?" I mutter to myself. Charlie dramatically drops the box of screws. Purposely. "I was kidding--"

"Do I look like a rabbit?" he asks, stretching his arms above his head, yawning. Showing just a few inches of skin at the defined V sinking into those sweatpants. I look away quickly.

"You hop around here like a rabbit, finishing up everything all fast while I take forever," I sigh. "Speaking of, I think I'll be done with all these details by tonight. We can paint tomorrow afternoon."

Charlie nods. "Excellent work."

Coming from him, I'll take it. "You set the standard. Not sure I'll be able to work with anyone else from here on out." I feel like every time I say something testy like this, he's going to tell me to fuck off, but he simply agrees.

"I tend to ruin it for everyone else," he says softly, a sour look on his face. "After lunch, I'll clean up while you whittle."

I realize that since Charlie says he's inexperienced with carving, he won't be helping me much from here on out. "You don't have to stay and watch me fumble around if you have other stuff to do."

Charlie shakes his head. "You'll teach me how. I should probably learn."

Me? Teach him? I'm unbearably nervous at the thought. "Ha, yeah, right."

"I'm serious, Andy," he scoffs. "Look at this." He rummages around in a drawer, and then a small object is tossed my way. A bear, of course. Whittling 101. Very amateur looking. I can't help my little chuckle, and I see him covering his face in shame.

"It's... creative..."

"From like, forever ago," he sighs. "Terrible."

"Nice to see you're not perfect at something," I comment offhandedly, looking it over. Palm sized, definitely pine wood. Too smooth, not as detailed as it could or should be. It has charm. I can tell it's old.

"I have a box of carving tools and knives. If you show me how to use it, I'll finally be able to get some use out of that expensive crap."

I wonder how often Charlie ends up crafting. He seems content when he works.

By the time I find a good stopping point, I realize there's no point rushing if I want a good chance of placing in the competition. Plus, I know that I'll definitely be finishing up by tomorrow.

Charlie has been focused, slightly hunched over after I showed him a basic outline for a bear a few hours ago, and a few techniques. I'm curious on his progress.

By the time I dust off and pace over to him, he hides his little project in his hands. "No, you can't see."

"Let me see it."

"No. It's bad," he giggles, shaking his head. I see what tools he's using and wonder if he'd fare better with a smaller pick than the one I handed him. I give him a Look, and he sighs, turning away and holding out the new and improved maple bear. Significant improvement from the one he tossed to me earlier, which I realize is in my pocket. I'm about to reach for it, but I stop myself.

"It looks fine," I comment, inspecting it. "I won't show you your other one until you finish."

Charlie seems surprised, and he raises a brow as he turns back. "Am I officially in student status?"

I nod, the sense of satisfaction taking over. "You're gonna be shocked with how much better you've gotten since back then."

"Mmmm," Charlie hums to himself, looking at the mini bear in his hand. "I better be."

I hand him the smaller pick, and demonstrate an easier way to get some smaller details into the ears, and end up grabbing his hand once again to angle the knife. He keeps a serious face, and I doubt he knows how much he's blushing. I try not to take everything to heart, but he makes it hard.

Another day, another dinner. Another plate of greens for Charlie, and plain chicken on the side. I felt pressured to get a cleaner bowl of peppers and rice and greens, with beef, given his enthusiasm to keep it healthy. I don't know if I've thought about what I eat so much as I have this week.

Charlie offers ice cream with Baileys, and I accept. I'm not a casual drinker, and the irony isn't lost on me. He has unusual tastes. He himself doesn't partake, choosing instead to indulge again in a gin and tonic this late in the day. Lime wedge.

I look at my ice cream, suddenly feeling like I'm being babysat. Instead of bucking back, I accept. "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" I ask, scooping up the dairy and alcohol.

He's taken aback for a moment, and he shakes his head. "Not having this conversation."

"Ah, come on," I tease. "I got arrested in a brawl once. Didn't get booked, but..." I shrug. Charlie frowns. "I was really drunk. It wasn't a full-on fight or anything. Homecoming."

"Geez," Charlie rolls his eyes. "That's tame."

I scoff. "I didn't say that was the craziest thing I've done. Just one of them."

Charlie shrugs. "That's stupid, not crazy. It'd be crazy if you like, ran from the cops barefoot, hopped on a car in traffic..." Then he frowns. "Chelsea is such a dumbass."

Not sure where that comes from. "I guess she's crazier than... me..." I'm cautious. That's still a strong sibling bond, and I'm still a stranger.

He drinks down more of his cocktail. "I mean, you're a good kid. So."

Just told him I got arrested, but okay. "I'm not a kid."

Charlie stares me down, and he chuckles. "Do I have to be so specific?"

"With me, yeah," I say quickly, not meaning to put so much gusto into my words, but I'm glad I did, given his reaction. The gentle embarrassment that washes over him. Denying the tension as much as I pretend to.

As much as I should try to accept the fact that nothing will happen between us before we finish this dresser--or the fact that nothing may happen at all--I keep wondering what he's thinking. I wish I could just get into his brain. What's the point of all this? Why be so...

"I'll be a pillar of honesty from now on, just like you," Charlie says sarcastically. There's that little smile again.

It gets later into the night yet again, and I don't bother asking, simply showering and planning to use the 'spa.' I step out of the steamy bathroom and find Charlie playing on his phone at the end of the hall. Shirtless again, I expect him to cower away as he looks up, but no such thing happens. He looks up, and then... down. My whole body earns an unadulterated scan from him as I'm in my flimsy sweats, nothing else.

This time, it's my turn to blush. Did he just check me out? But really this time? Intentionally?

"Hot water isn't working upstairs," he sighs, annoyed it seems. Then he points to the bathroom. "Clearly it is down here. Wanna turn on the fan?"

I gulp, nodding quickly and flicking the switch. "My bad." Charlie wordlessly takes my place in the bathroom, and closes the door. I hear the shower going shortly after, and wonder why I'm so shaken by such a small interaction.

I'm in the hot tub for about fifteen minutes before he joins, stepping in before I realize he's even come outside. I watch him glance at the bottle of gin that I brought out, and he seems satisfied, until he gets a sour face yet again. "No glasses?"

I look over, realizing the absence. "Crap, my bad."

Charlie shrugs, grabbing the bottle, and taking a swig anyway. No reaction. "That works."

I give an exaggerated slow clap. "Don't know how you do it."

"I do a lot of stuff," Charlie says with a nod, proudly putting a fist to his chest, and that's when I realize he's already pretty tipsy. Drunk maybe?

Liquid courage? Perhaps I should catch up.

I take a long swig of the clear, bitter, dry liquor, and huff through my nose. Charlie seems unfazed, but then I watch him watch me, carefully scanning my every move. I could chalk it up to his Type A thing, but I know he's just looking to look.

We should finish this desk tomorrow. Then... I'll... do something. Make a move or something.

"You know, I wouldn't mind keeping up after this is over," I say as casually as possible, no innuendo. "If I place in the top five, I'll have two more projects to make. Even some advice over the phone would help."

Charlie waves his hand. "I have no problem hopping on a plane to help," he says, rolling his head, stretching his neck. "I mean, if it's convenient enough."

Casually implying that he'd come and see me? I'll bring that up tomorrow, too. For my master plan of seduction.

"I mean, if it's no pro--"

"Jesus, I'm tired. I'm more tired from working on that stupid little bear cub than all the other stuff we've been doing," he interrupts, and I know now for a fact that he's tipsy. Then he puts a hand up, as if trying not to offend. "It's not stupid. I'm just annoyed that it sucks."

"It doesn't suck," I assure him.

"It kinda sucks. God, you're nice," he scoffs, grabbing the bottle again, taking another drink.

Not that nice, geez. "Fine. You have a long way to go. Sloppy technique, sloppy everything."

"Sloppy everything," Charlie repeats, and he bows slightly with his eyes closed, poking fun at himself. Then he looks up at me through dark brown eyelashes, eyes glittering an amber hue in the hot tub lights. It sends a jolt through my entire body. Even the way he says it.

It didn't seem sloppy to me. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing all that time ago. His Type A way of taking cock. Perfect and more perfect.

That'd be fun to break down.

"I'm always open to learning something new," he sighs, leaning back in the spa and stretching his shoulders.

"Even at your age, huh?" I tease, and he glares. "I wanna know what other random shit you're good at. I know it's probably a lot of stuff."

Charlie splashes me with water. "You've got jokes, huh?"

"I've got spirit," I tease, leaning down a little. Apparently this is funny enough to get him laughing aloud, head tossed back, shoulders heaving.

"That you have," he says, sinking down into the hot tub.

We're silent for a while, taking a nonverbal drink of the bottle and officially getting it down to halfway. I hear the crickets outside, distant droning of the highway.

The silence doesn't feel awkward until Charlie and I catch each other's eye a few times, and I wonder if I should say anything. Right before I'm about to break, he speaks up.

"The craziest thing I've ever done," Charlie starts. "Is the video."

I get chills. I can't believe he brought it up on his own. Do I ask about it? How it came to be? How cool is too cool to play this? "Ah, the 21st century. The ways to make money are endless," I shrug, picking at a nail.

Mr. Model shrugs. "I didn't make money from that, are you kidding?" Charlie scoffs. "Good thing."

I glance over.

"Because...?"

"I would've made a lot more of them, duh." Charlie says it as if I'm supposed to know. "Would've been a popperheaded bore with a cigarette habit and a permanently bruised neck."

He's screwing with me. Has to be. I wanna screw back. "And you'd be banging a bunch of old dudes. Old old."

Charlie pauses for a moment. "And what would you know about that?"

"I'm not sheltered from the habits of porn, here," I scoff. "I know what a twink is."

"You're stupid," Charlie says, closing his eyes, shaking his head. "You? You're stupid. I'm thirty-something years old."

I really have no clue what I'm talking about. I'm just practically drooling over how much he's loosened up. "Something, something... learning something new...?"

Charlie suddenly sits up, and then emerges from the hot tub. I barely catch a glimpse of anything from the front as he suddenly patters toward his pool shoes and towel, covering up the very perky ass I only saw for a few seconds. Eagle tattoo on the back of his thigh. "I mentioned cigarettes and now I want one," he says, heading inside.

"Gross," I call after him. I thought he smoked. Either way, I'm not sure if I somehow ruined the mood, or if he's just a little drunk and frazzled. I take a moment to down some more liquor, wondering how to bypass the friendly filter we have going on. By all means, this should be the normalcy that I strive for with him at this point. Able to joke about the awkward secrets.

But I want more.

Something, anything--

Charlie is back outside and sitting by the spa's edge, dipping his feet. I watch him spark up a cigarette, and he actually acts as if it's refreshing, sighing out happily as he leans back on his other hand. I kind of shamelessly stare, ready to quip about his bad habit at any point, but staring nonetheless.

He can't be more than 150 pounds, most of it in his thick legs, thighs hidden under a gray towel. He has a broader chest and shoulders than I expected, but of course, I must've seen him at 19 or 20 years old in that video. Then again, he clearly looks much younger than he is. Despite this, he's not what I'd consider muscular. He has some definition, but it seems like it'd take some effort for him to keep some bulk on. He likely only runs, and lets himself fill out how he fills out.

And why not? He looks amazing. Even sitting, I see that there's a squishy fold of fat at his hips, some very intriguing places to grab. Not a speck of hair on him besides his armpits, though I'd like to know if that's his doing or genetics. And I'd like to see up close what I couldn't on that blurry video.

When I make my way up to his face, I realize that my staring probably went overboard, but Charlie doesn't look away. How long was he watching me check him out?

I hold out my hand. "Let me hit."

Charlie's eyebrows raise. "... what?"

"The cigarette," I clarify. Charlie clears his throat, and he looks away to cough, holding out the cancer stick for me to take. "Don't know how you do it."

"Put it in your mouth and suck," Charlie says casually, leaning back on his hands, closing his eyes, breathing in the night air. I chuckle at his response, bringing the tobacco to my lips. "Or did you mean the cigarette?"

Pause.

All the cells in my brain that have ever registered a flirt light up at once, little signals firing up like they're being individually zapped to life.

I want to make him flirt again. I ignore it for now until he does. "Thought you said you didn't have a cigarette habit."

"I implied it."

I blow out the smoke, stepping closer to hand it back. Charlie lazily holds out his hand, and I make sure my thumb lingers against his as I give him back the smoke. This is something he'd mind even days ago. Now, I wonder if he's testing the waters.

As soon as he tosses his hands up, giving me the smallest smile, I watch his eyebrows raise, and I know what he's going to say.

"See? How hard was that?" I recite at the same time he does, and Blondie is puzzled, but amused. I take a drink of gin, and feel the blood rush through the miles of veins in my body.

"What?"

"... Nothing."

Fuck, I've never wanted anyone so bad.

I lean back against the edge, elbows rested but in a position to make my shoulders and biceps flex just enough. Charlie notices, and maybe it's the alcohol that makes his gaze linger. Maybe it's just me.

"Mmm. My sister's a fuckin' idiot," he says softly, staring me down, adorable upturned nose unable to hide his blushing even in the dim night light outside.

I scoff at his implication, and wonder if it's just me, or if there's... something...

"... You're a tease."

I step closer, ending up right between his legs, pressed against the towel.

"Hey, hey--"

"More than you bargained for?" I ask lowly, leaning close, arms now framing his thighs on either side. A hard position for him to try to escape, even trying to get out of the hot tub. His citrusy scent cuts through the chlorine.

"Andy..." he says, looking away. "Maybe I took it... too far..."

"I haven't even done anything to you yet," I say gravely, leaning ever so slightly closer.

God, that face he's making. I'd relish it further if I didn't think I was on the verge of something even more amazing. A face that hardly makes him seem a decade older than me, with such big eyes, nervous surprise, lips pursed.

Charlie looks around, seeing that he's pretty much locked in between my arms without me touching him. He backs up a little, but I don't let him get far, stepping closer. "C-come on, back up Andy. What, are you an 'Andrew?' Do I have to use your full na--"

"Why tease me when you know I'd do you in a heartbeat?" I lean fully onto my elbows, eye level with his palm-sized pecs, half muscle and flesh, but fitting. Nipples that are hardly a shade different than his own body in this night glow, but probably just slightly pink. His panting chest, melding into soft abs that tease their existence with every breath he expels. I finally look back up, and he's blushing wildly, shaking his head.

"And my name isn't Andrew."

"Okay. Whatever. Y-you back up. Now." Charlie wriggles, trying to escape without touching me. Impossible.

"I've wanted you before I even knew you," I continue, finally committing, letting both of my arms slide in closer, framing his thighs in the damp towel. I feel his muscles flex as he nearly jumps out of his body at the contact. Not even skin-to-skin. "Before you even were a real person in my mind..."

"No. I-I don't care!" he says in a sharp whisper, hands feebly pressing at my shoulders to get me away from him. "We can't. I'm sorry I was acting stupid."

"Admitting to flirting with me when you know that I want to fuck you is even worse, Charlie," I sigh, fully rested between his toweled legs, arms locked behind his ass. What a perfectly huggable waist. The alcohol must be affecting me, too, because I hardly react to a hard slap to my shoulder, only registering it when Charlie gasps, more hastily trying to get me off of him.

"I made a mistake," he says, pushing at me, voice desperately frantic as he turns, attempting to slip away, but once again, I best him, taking the opportunity to scoop him into the hot tub from around his waist as soon as he gets some leverage.

Charlie flails for a second as I yank him down, pressing my half-hard cock against a combination of towel and bare ass in the steamy water. "Ah! Stop! Okay, okay--look, Andy--"

"It's even a little cruel," I say right in his ear, solidifying the arm around his waist, and letting my other hand creep up to his chest. He's stopped splashing about, and one of his hands ends up on my forearm in a tight grip. "I know you don't mean to be cruel to me, Charlie."

He just keeps shaking his blonde head, as if he can't believe it. As if he had no idea what he was doing to me. "Maybe we're both a little too drunk, huh?" he says softly. I tighten my arms around him, and he gasps. "No, Andy, seriously."

"You don't wanna feel how big I am?" I ask, "I mean really feel it." I push closer, and he shudders, yelping as he closes his eyes, and tries wriggling away.

Charlie's hand on my forearm tightens, and he groans. "There's about a million reasons why I would never... do that."

"I only need the one reason you would," I tease, flexing as I stand flush to him, tempted to pin him against the side of the hot tub wall. He'd freak out. I soften up, still groping at him. I don't even have the time to fawn over how I'm currently bear hugging the Blondie of my dreams, because as soon as Charlie leans his head back into my shoulder, my mouth finds his as if it's magnetic.

I wish I could describe how I feel at the moment. There's something fundamentally magic in it.

He gasps into the kiss, flailing for a moment again, hand squeezing the fuck out of my arm.

Then he shoves me away. "That's enough! That's enough," he catches his breath, touching his lips, backing up against the side of the pool, and putting his hands up as if he's about to hop out. "I don't kiss men."

Apparently, I do.

Not once had I thought of kissing Blondie. It hadn't occurred to me that this was an option. Because I never thought it'd happen, of course. All my fantasies were about pounding that twink till he couldn't stand.

Kissing Charlie, however...

I feel myself glare. "Whatever you have going on isn't gonna be solved by a five inch fake dick," I say, crossing my arms. Charlie stays put. I expected more of a reaction. I for one, am on fire. Good thing my cock can't shoot bullets.

He drops his shoulders, hands still lilting along the edge of the water. "Fuck. You're crazy."

"About hot fucking hot you are."

Charlie turns around to face his house again, and I think he's going to dash, instinctually stepping toward him until I watch his arm shoot toward the bottle of gin, and in a fell swoop, he downs the last of it.

Still turned around, he nervously runs a hand through his hair, voice small. He changes the atmosphere in a split second.

"What are you so stupidly big for anyway? Annoying."

I'm on him in no time, realizing he must've liked being crowded from behind. I grant his wish, instantly pressing against him again, and this time, I snake my arm under his, and gently clasp at his throat, pushing him against the edge of the hot tub.

This time, Charlie is the one offering his mouth up, and I oblige. The stale, flattening taste of gin lingers as we sloppily make out halfway over his shoulder.

I'm not sure how different it's supposed to feel. I'm mostly sure this elated, overpouring sensation is because I'm about to fuck the literal man of my dreams or whatever, but I think it could also just be that he is indeed another guy. There's different places to grab. Different kinds of moans.

Perhaps I get a little over eager about wanting him to feel my cock, since as soon as I push up against him, the angle catches Charlie off guard, and he jumps, pulling away and putting a hand up. "Woah, there," he says with a deep breath, and I feel like I've witnessed a transformation of sorts, the way he looks at me now. I cup further under his chin, and he moans, leaning back onto my shoulder. "Fuck, Andy. We really shouldn't..."

The way he says it, the tantalizing and deep sweetness in his tone, the way I feel his voice vibrate against my hand at his throat, his closed eyes... I feel like I won something.

"You scared?" I tease, slowly pushing closer, feeling his hands slipping up and down my thighs in the water. Charlie giggles a little, shaking his head, biting his lip.

"I'm just... out of practice," he admits with a smile, then he gives me a sultrier look, eyelids half-mast. "Let's go to my room."

He doesn't bother drying off at all really, only patting his feet on the doormat and reaching out his hand behind for me to take. Something about the gesture drives me a little crazy, and I didn't know my cock could get any harder. I take his hand and trail him upstairs, both of us nakedly trying not to slip on the stairs and finally getting to his room.

Sacred ground, clearly. It's very homey, with pictures of family and friends on a desk and side table, and some old mementos in frames. Again, it's like I'm honored to be here. To have gotten this far. Thank you disgusting gin. Thank you Charlie from over a decade ago for recording that video. Thank you to me from five years ago for finding it.

Checking him out now is acceptable, and boy am I looking. So is he.

Finally, in the dim lamp light, I can take him in. There's more than the mole under his lip. There's a tiny one on his shoulder, another on his neck, right above his collarbone. His body is amazing beyond anything I'd seen on that video. He's filled out since then. Thicker thighs, broader shoulders, overall a slightly more matured frame that makes him look edible. Stretch marks at the curve of his ass, and around his armpits.

He's just as hard as I am, a pretty, mushroom-headed tip jutting out and pointing at me. Probably an inch larger than the dildo he uses to fuck himself. I'm expecting some cockiness from him, given that I'm salivating over him, but as he watches my cock swing from side to side with the few steps I take his way, I know I'm in for a treat.

Charlie is clearly spooked by my size, and he can't seem to hide it, cool demeanor coming undone as I approach him. "Wait," he says, looking down, then trailing up to my face. "Sit down."

Gladly. I spread and sit, watching the spark behind his eyes as he gets on his knees in front of me. My balls hang heavy, twitching around and ready for us to get to business. I'm surprised to find him bowing already; rather, I didn't think he would give me head at all.

Thank goodness this isn't some performance, at least I don't think it is, because Charlie wastes no time taking me in his lips, warm mouth accentuating the remnants of steam coming off both our bodies. I didn't notice until now, and the sight of trailing misty smoke sends a jolt down to my dick. It makes him moan, and I have to look away for a moment, feeling the threatening pulse of orgasm boiling within me already.

No way I'm going to only last a minute here. I've been lusting over him since I saw him, and I refuse to let him think I'm some shy and inexperienced boy, coming quick over a fantasy of him. No matter how much that might be the case. I refuse.

When my hand ends up on the back of his head, Charlie's eyes open, and he pouts, but I don't care. I push him further, making him open his jaw, fleshy lips stretched around my dick. Out of practice my ass. I can't even selfishly capture the sight in my mind properly, having to close my eyes and toss my head back as he begins sucking.

"Shit," I huff, pushing his head again. I feel him grab my knee, and he gives a warning squeeze. I don't give a fuck, pushing again, and hearing him gag. My eyes fly open as he coughs, and adjusts, closing his eyes and twisting his head around. In fact, the more I start fucking his mouth, the more he gets into it, drooling down the side of my cock as he takes over half of it down his throat, eyelashes fluttering. He's given up resisting, as if he doubted himself for a moment, but quickly has gotten over it.

Fuck, does he know what he's doing. Every time I expect him to back off and tell me to cool it, he doesn't, getting more and more into the scene at play. I flex my hips to push into his mouth every time he sucks down, making him moan a little and adjust, swallowing down his own saliva mixed with quite the helping of precum from my gently fountaining cock. Hands-free the entire time.

Finally, Charlie looks up, and I could cum right then and there, but if there's any moment to capture in my mind for as long as possible, this would be one of them. "Fucking shit, Charlie, you're pretty as fuck."

He hums satisfactorily around my dick, licking flat along the bottom curve, up to the pillowy head, and he sucks me off with a pop. The smirk that forms on his lips melts my insides. "I know."

"I know you know," I quip back, scanning over his face, his wet lips. "Kinda pisses me off."

This seems to amuse him greatly. "Need to take it out on me?"

I'm admittedly a little stunned. I wonder if he cares that he's offering himself up to someone who's very hungry for him. As a matter of fact...

"Careful," I warn him. "That's five years of pent up energy." I curl my finger for him to come closer. Charlie obliges, though it feels like a game with the way he reacts; he straightens up as he scoots forward, head in my lap, hands neatly placed on his knees.

Charlie has an adorable cross-eyed thing going on as he stares down my cock for a moment. "I'd never. Cheat on you, holy fuck." He looks up at me sharply, and it's like Slutty Blondie disappears for a moment as he corrects himself. "I'd never date you, but... that's not the point."

"Figures."

Mr. Sensual is back again as he continues. "Point is..." he dramatically looks at my dick again. "I'd never cheat. Fucking foolish."

He doesn't give me the chance to respond as my cock is taken into his mouth again, and my ego is inflated to the stratosphere. Why is he acting like I'm somehow the catch here? Even if he's just toying with me, even if it's the alcohol, any sense of a prideful mentor is gone as he just falls into the enjoyment of sucking me off.

I'm lulled by whatever spell he's cast in the room, fully encapsulating me in all things Charlie. He languidly gulps me down without so much as a cocky look in his eye. Even then, it's like he knows he doesn't have to do anything extra at all. Just Type A skill.

I can't exactly place it, but I'd usually revel in the sight, the feeling of watching some girl do her best to take me down. With Charlie, I feel like every moment is something shared and savored. As if he's saying "this is how to handle a cock like yours, no exceptions."

The eagerness overwhelms me a little and I push his head further down. Charlie digs his nails into my thigh, coughing, and pulling back. I don't let him, tightening my hold on the back of his head. The glare he gives me might've stunned Sober Andy a bit, but I have an agenda, here. Charlie smacks my leg hard, and I let him go. With a gasp, he catches his breath, looking down.

"Be more gentle with me, Andy," he says playfully, but there's a sharp threat in his voice that even drunk me can't miss. I must've done too much this time. Charlie blushes hard. "I've had a lot to drink."

Are we slowing down? Is he reconsidering...

"Chickening out on me?" I ask. "That's--"

"I'll throw up," Charlie says, eyes closed, a smile on his face that reads as smug somehow, despite his blush and the words that just came out of his mouth. Then he gives me that intoxicating look again. "So be gentle with me. I'll reward you. Promise."

All I can do is nod. I'll just blame my shivering on the cooling water still scattered all over my body.

He points to his pillow. "Give me what's underneath."

I fish blindly, instantly finding a bottle. Lube. Nice. I toss it to him, and he seems mildly annoyed by it, though he catches it. "Unceremonious, huh?" he comments, quickly snapping the cap, and then his hand disappears behind himself.

I don't get the chance to ruminate on that before my cock is in his mouth yet again, and Charlie fingers himself, seemingly determined. I wish it'd stop lulling me into closing my eyes; I want to watch everything he does. I feel him. The wetness of his mouth, the firmness of the sides of his molars, everything too hot and slick to register much more beyond an engulfing tightness.

Charlie seems to hit his rhythm, and he sighs around me, the exhale from his nostrils jetting hot air at my groin. He pulls away. "Shit. I think I'm gonna cum."

"Really?"

"Ha... yeah..." he says, embarrassed. "Forgot where I was," he says softly, chuckling as he stands up, pushing me back like it's nothing. He leans in to kiss me as if he never had that earlier sentiment. "But that's probably good, right?"

Whatever he says, I'll agree. I nod. He seems to chuckle at my reaction, and I remember I'm not supposed to be a big, dumb first-timer about this. I grab him by the waist, ripping him closer, and he seems surprised. He's not difficult to handle at all, at least physically. I have him straddling me in no time.

"If that's the case, let's make it happen. Come on," I say, casually as possible, despite my heartbeat. As soon as I direct my cock up and between his ass cheeks, he jumps a little. His fingernails dig into my shoulders, and I hiss at the sensation.

"Ah! Wait-wait... this is gonna be a little too--"

"Hmmm?" I hum, pulling his hip down, my cockhead finding treasure right away. "You said so."

I take my chance, pushing up as I pull him down, and luckily, the head pops in easily. Seems easy enough, anyway.

Charlie, however...

His nails further sink into my skin, and his forehead knocks against mine. "Andy!"

"Shit, you're not kidding," I groan, gently pushing up again. "That hurt, by the way. Your hard-ass forehead." I push up again, and there's plenty of lube to get by, but he is beyond tight. I know that the head of my cock is actually a little smaller than the real girth, but the way he's shaking makes me think this might not be so smooth sailing.

"Fuck! Fuuuck, fuck-fuck-fuck..." Charlie groans, arms around my neck and shoulder, just begging me to grab his waist and shove him down. Which I do. I roll my hips up at the same time, nestling deep inside with a squish that instantly suctions my cock inside him.

We stay like that for a moment. It'd feel too dramatic if it weren't for Charlie's heavy breathing, and the way his hole desperately tries to adjust to the stretch. I'm also losing my mind here, wondering if those jitters I feel are my own climax threatening to peak early.

Once I get a hold of my mind, I finally realize my situation.

This is what I've wanted for... years. It's not even something I had to work for. It's just pure luck, how I ended up in this situation. With the man I've wanted to fuck for years. Not only that, but it's already beyond my expectations, and we haven't done much of anything yet.

"Holy shit," I whisper, thumbing at his hips, the squishy fold of muscle and fat. "I'm jealous of everyone who got you first."

Charlie seems to whimper at this, and he shifts his hips, somehow taking me in deeper. "You flatter me so much, Andy," he muses, finally seeming to find his voice. "I should be saying that."

I experimentally pull down and push back up, Charlie shuddering without a way to hold it back. I can't help but smile into his neck, fucking up into him slowly, holding him in place and probably using more core strength than I should, but it's worth it to hear him lose it.

Right now, he's unintentionally holding his breath, and I wonder if he'll get too overwhelmed if I immediately push him onto his back. "Wanna breathe?" I chuckle.

Charlie gasps suddenly, and he moans aloud. "Haa, sorry--"

"Don't apologize. Don't pass out either," I huff, adjusting our position and leaning back just to fuck up harder into him. The chokehold he has around my cock feels literally unreal, as if I'm the limit to what his ass can take. As if he's clamping down and custom fitting his hole to suck me in. I can't help but keep wondering if it's on purpose, but Charlie's disarray says otherwise.

He leans forward, but I keep him in place. I finally get a good look at him on top of me, straddled around my hips and achingly hard, from what I can see. I wonder if he really meant it before, that he's so close.

For a moment, there's hesitation. I'm clearly inside him--the heat is overwhelming--but it's hitting me that Charlie isn't just a fantasy or 'the only man I'd fuck' but he's really a guy, and we're already this far. Raw, too. My heart thumps fast, and I feel the flash of heat take over before I reach out for his cock, experimentally giving it a shake. Charlie yelps, grabbing my forearm, but not pushing me away.

"I told you I'm--"

"Yeah, I know," I interrupt, wrapping my entire hand around his cock, and scooping his balls between my fingers for the fun of it, and Charlie puts his other hand over his mouth. I'm not sure what I expected, but it's not for Charlie to buck down hard onto my dick and into my hand at the same time.

Before I know it, he has one hand on my chest, and the other now keeps my forearm right in place to massage his cock as he rolls down on top of me. "Fuck," he whispers, getting some leverage to grind down. "Gimme a second."

I assume this means he needs a breather, but I'm shocked to watch him close his eyes, place both hands on my chest, and begin to ride me like a damn bicycle.

I know I must look wide-eyed and amateur, glad to see his are closed as I start to take every impact of his body, watching him bounce. The fit feels criminal, my dick swallowed by his insides with every thrust. I'm entranced by how bottom-heavy he is, thighs thudding down atop mine like thunder. My hands instantly wander to grab at his hips, but his eyes snap open, and he has that subtle warning on his face again, the look cutting into me.

"Put your hand back," he demands, voice very clear, sharp, and no sign of exhaustion.

Instant chills. He must know how intimidating he is, and he smiles softly, gently closing his eyes again, eyelashes dancing at the crest of his cheekbones. "I'm really, really... close..."

I grab him again, enveloping his cock in my hand, this time more intentional. The smile has me mesmerized, especially as it turns into a small, desperate plea seconds later. I jerk at him in tandem with his riding, realizing he's expertly figured out a way to fuck me while thrusting into my coiled palm, slick with a combintation of sweat, precum, lube and pool water. I'm guessing, anyway.

Every bounce probably leverages him for about half of my cock, but it's plenty. If it feels this good to be fucking him halfway, I can't wait to give him the whole thing.

Charlie glances at me once, and he gets that signature blush on his face. He says nothing, and I desperately wanna know what he's thinking. I feel his legs shake again as he sits fully down, and stays there a moment, cursing to himself.

"I doubt I have your stamina," he finally says, tiny smile lingering on his lips.

Didn't think about that. I wonder if this means he's giving his all for Act One...

I smirk to myself in return, hoping I'm not so obvious as I stroke him with a bit more gusto. "Don't worry about that."

Charlie gasps, and he moans. "S-so reassuring," he chuckles. "Hnng! Fuck, fuck, Andy--"

I keep flicking my wrist up the length of his dick, grinding my hips up to finally get him going. I can't stop staring, watching as the pink head routinely pokes through my open thumb and forefinger. I even feel myself blush at the sight, a little more eager than I thought to watch him finish. My pinky finger brushes up against dark blonde hair at the base of his dick, and Charlie is crashing down in no time.

Quite literally, he sort of crumples up against me as I sit up to catch him, feeling the spasmic hitching of his chest, the sounds he bites back huffing in my ear. I lean in to suck harshly at his neck the moment he climaxes, warm spurts against my abs and his alike.

"Shit!" his voice is pitchy and broken, and he whimpers yet again, the sound like music to my ears. Since his demand earlier, I don't stop stroking him until I'm sure he's done, barely noticing his fingernails digging into my shoulderblades.

We pull away, and he stares at me for a moment. I lean in for a kiss, and he pulls back further, but he seems to blink his worries away, and soon enough, his tongue is in my mouth.

I push up deep inside again, squeezing him close around his waist, and Charlie gasps. "You're doing that on purpose."

"You're the perfect size," I tease, squeezing him again. "So... should we--"

"I know what you want," Charlie says, cocking up a brow, giving me a coy eyeroll. He smirks a little, pushing me away, smoothly detaching our bodies, before he crawls onto the bed face down. Charlie lays down, legs spread, back perfectly arched, resting his face in his folded hands. My body seems to move instinctually, as I'm not really thinking about it before I'm fashioned behind him, hands gracing his too-perfectly toned thighs.

Charlie peeks over his shoulder, and if I weren't already harder than Mount Rushmore, I'd be springing up all over again. I can't believe the smooth, pink, puckered hole I was just inside is winking at me right now. And it's so damn pretty.

I grab the lube again, giving us plenty to work with, gently patting his ass. Round somehow, even at this angle. Most girls--well, the skinny ones I've happened to find myself with--don't maintain such a shape. He opens his mouth to say something, then he seems to back down, further spreading his legs, showing off to me completely.

"I know, be gentle," I huff, giving him a smirk.

He turns back to face the bed frame. "I didn't say that."

"You did," I laugh.

Charlie puts a finger up, blushing all the way to his ears. "I... didn't say that about this."

I'm an idiot. The goosebumps prickle all over my body like a moving wave, and I toss the bottle aside, positioning myself instantly. This time, I watch every millimeter of my cock stretch him open, the head kissing at his pucker, wet-on-wet making his hole quiver as I push inside, and it squelches in the same heavenly way it did before. Slower, given I'm torturing both of us by wanting to watch him suck me in.

Charlie pushes through the excruciation, rolling his hips and his spine to take me in again. "Ugh, fuuuckkk you," he groans. "Come on."

"Beg me," I tease.

I'm shocked that he actually does it.

The "pleeeease, Andyyyyy" is sluttier than anything I could ever imagine, considering I thought I'd get some snark for my half-hearted demand. But I'm shattered by the three drawn out syllables.

Perhaps he'll let me be greedy.

"Fucking shit," I gasp, instantly pistoning into him, hands simply hovering over his beautiful ass, bouncing like silicone against my pelvis. I can't believe he's real even after all this time spent together. Somehow the grip on my cock is tighter, and if it's not intentional this time, I could be convinced this was another too-good dream.

I finally grab his hips, strangling Charlie's perfect waist in my hands as I hold him to the bed, fucking down with a force I haven't dared to try with another person, but something I've always craved. Perhaps I've been too nice, like Charlie seems to imply every so often.

Surely, the way he's gripping the sheets right now is changing his mind.

"Ah! Oh, fuck--SHIT!" Charlie gasps, quickly grabbing his pillow and burying his face in it. He stiffens up to brace himself, and I'll let him do whatever he needs to do, because I don't plan on stopping.

I can easily pull him into me at the same time, and the subtlety works perfectly to build the momentum. I've never been able to achieve this push, this drive, this pacing, and think any girl could handle it. I could go into a trance, eyes lidded heavily as I look down and take him in. Better than any cinema. There's no performance here.

The view is too perfect. His body, the tension--it's nothing I could really understand by watching some video. Charlie desperately moans into his pillow, shoulders and back clenching every so often as he takes every plunge.

Feeling my hips bounce off his ass, how hard every hit reverberates, I'm not surprised that I feel my orgasm creeping up on me again. Charlie is too damn accommodating. I pound steadily, relieved that I know Charlie enough by now that he'd say something if he needed me to slow down.

It feels like I'm hitting a runner's high or something, being so in the zone. I'm in the eye of the storm, Charlie's perfectly tight and hot ass eating up my cock with every thrust. He reaches down, stroking himself, partially snapping me out of it, but I decide to switch it up. I lift my leg up for better leverage, slamming down into him. Charlie finally emerges from his pillow.

"Fuuuuckkkk, that's too muuuchhh," he groans, kicking out a leg, getting off-balance. I snatch him right back up, and slow down for a moment.

"Too much?"

"Keep going," Charlie moans, and I hear him sniff. "Fuck, Andy... I... keep going." He curls up into his pillow again, and I grant his wish, fucking deep, biting my lip to keep the grin off my face, though he wouldn't see me anyway. He'd hear me smiling at him, enjoying his unraveling.

... there's nothing wrong with that, right?

I sigh, elated, smacking his ass harshly, and he yelps, reaching his hand back. Then he takes his arm back, spreading open further. Permission. I like it.

Taking him for granted would be my most stupid mistake at this point. I want everything he's willing to give me. I reach up to press my hand right between his shoulders, holding him down. Charlie immediately grips his pillow hard, bracing himself as I grab his hip with my other hand. It feels not effortless, but seamless to pound him this steadily. I feel his breaths erratically huff out, feel him get choked up with moans. He curses once, but chooses silence overall, all his focus put into taking what I'm forcing into him.

My hips, my entire body, become addicted to reverberating off of his. He keeps himself sturdy now, cathartically walling each thrust. It's an amazing sight, truly. Keeping up a consistent rhythm for this long is only something I could only dream of before.

The combination of how hard I can fuck him combined with how huge my dick looks going in is really hurtling me closer to my peak. I tilt my head to watch the jiggle of his thigh, that eagle tattoo. How perfect. I don't know how many times I'll describe him as perfect.

I'm lost in him again, in the zone. Charlie has found a way to steady himself, a sedated moan escaping him every now and again.

I lean in close, and snake my arm up under his, and grab his neck, pulling him up so our faces are side by side. Charlie gasps, quickly swiping his cheeks. I kiss his temple.

"You're having way too much fun getting pounded like this," I say, ticking my tongue at him. Truthfully, my voice is shot. Charlie giggles.

"Um... maybe," he says, voice tight, eyes closed. I wonder if he's being shy about me seeing his tears, or if he's just unable to think straight. Not the quick-witted man I know at all. To think I did this is going to send my ego rocketing again.

"Turn over."

Charlie's eyes open, and he shakes his head. "I look ridiculous."

Oh, is this a photoshoot for Mr. Model or something? I get right in his ear. "There's no cameras in here. Just me," I say softly, smacking his ass for good measure. "Turn over, Blondie."

He hesitates, but as I pull out, I release his neck, kissing at his shoulder as he makes his way onto his back. "And you look just fi--"

"I'm not a person who needs a lot of reassurance, Andy," Charlie smirks, using his blanket to wipe his eyes, eyelashes damp. "If I look ridiculous, so what." The look he gives me is sex itself. With a face like that, I understand. Nothing to critique, despite his self-deprecation. He lays back seductively as ever, spreading his legs just for me.

"Fucking hot," I groan, coming closer, instantly hooking his leg over my shoulder. Charlie takes me in with no problem, the welcoming tightness tunnelling my cock inside at full length. I finally can see his reaction to all of me, and he closes his eyes to focus himself; every time I plunge inside him, he braces for it. Everything about him could be angelic, save for the blatant, hard-hitting sexiness that edges on his every move.

Charlie grabs my forearm, directing my hand back to his throat. I guess I hesitate for a second, as he huffs. "What, you forgot?"

I shake my head. "Testing you."

"Liar," Charlie sighs. With that, I put some pressure on. It's clearly not enough, as Charlie's eyes open a sliver, and he pushes down on my hand with his own. I haven't really choked anyone. Just my big hand is usually enough fun for a girl.

Charlie relaxes his body as I choke him, grabbing my forearm with both hands as he readies himself. I build up the intensity yet again, watching him bite his lip with a moan, the subtle pink hue steadily rising up past his neck, tinting his face as I bear down and fuck him hard. Not as hard as before, given the restriction around his neck.

I feel my own stamina failing me, and maybe it's the alcohol catching up. The look on Charlie's face tells me we might not be going another three rounds the way I want to, the way my unrealistic animal brain wants to. Perhaps I'm just greedy.

I lean in close, rolling my hips, giving him the entire length of me, feeling the sweat roll down my nose, and I'm hit with the flashback of us in the shop, and the heat rushes to my cock, subsequently breaking out my sweat even more. I feel the sweat drip down, and it lands right under his bottom lip, above the mole. Charlie's eyes open immediately, and he taps my arm a few times. I let go of his throat.

For a moment, we just stare, and then he licks the sweat off, just a flick of his tongue.

"Fuck," I groan, shoving deep inside, letting go.

Charlie softens up completely, inviting me to spill inside him, even wrapping his legs around mine and tugging me close, though his hand is on my chest. I realize he's watching my face, and I flush even hotter, trying to hide as the strongest climax I've ever had wracks my entire body.

It's like I blackout for a moment as my cock shoots out every gush. I feel like I cum out everything in my entire body, balls aside. The sobering feeling is immediately followed by exhaustion, as I lay on top of him, breathing hard.

It feels like forever as we compose ourselves, curled up and filthy. I finally pull away, running a hand through my hair. Charlie still has his eyes closed, and I chuckle.

"Hope that wasn't too much."

Charlie says nothing, still grabbing my bicep as he breathes steadily.

"Maybe it was?"

Nothing again. I can't help but laugh as I realize.

He's asleep.

_____________________

It's 2am when I get the courage to wake him, thinking he wouldn't appreciate the morning cleanup, and he might be drunk enough still to be in a decent mood. I got us both water, and tried to find adequate towels, though I suspect I'll need to shower, and so will he.

He's holding a piece of ice to his neck, massaging it occasionally. "My campaign," he says softly, faux-annoyed. "I should've said something."

"Sorry about it."

"You're not."

"Someone as hot as you showing up with one hickey isn't the worst the modeling world has seen."

Charlie seems to agree. For a moment, we sip water, and Charlie seems on the come down from his drunkenness.

"So, Andrew--"

"Alexander, actually."

Charlie brightens, and he looks me over. "Alex... ander... Andy... ah... that's actually really cute," he muses, giving me a teasing smile, nudging me with his finger. Not sure how he manages to make me embarrassed this time, but I'll graciously take the flirt. "My ex was Alex. You don't look like an Alex."

Guy or girl? "My aunt calls me Xander."

Charlie smirks a bit. "You're so polite. You didn't even ask. It was my last ex, though. A woman."

He must be a mind reader. "Why did you get broken up with?" I ask.

"Ah..." he gets a sheepish smile on his face, blushing from ear to ear, and he closes his eyes. "She thought I was gay." With that, he breaks out into a laugh, genuine and musical and irregular. I can't help but laugh along with him.

"Wow," I say, not able to come up with much else. My mind is going at lightspeed.

"I know, right?" he sighs, running a hand through that unique blonde hair. "Ah... I'm a mess."

I leave it up in the air again. My politeness, I suppose. "I slept with my girlfriend's brother. I'm not doing much better."

Charlie's face gets serious for a moment, and then he chuckles. "I'm the one in hot water, you know. Don't... worry about that."

That's when we both sit up suddenly.

"We should probably finish the dresser tomorrow," I find myself saying, right at the same time as Charlie.

--------------------

"In Fifth Place, in our 'large mirror' category, with a piece entitled 'Angels in the Mirror', Bethany Hartigan!"

The crowd erupts as the curtain is pushed aside to reveal the big mirror. I know it was expensive. Looks fantastic and sturdy. My anxiety begins to creep in. This is fifth place?

"In Fourth Place, in our 'large dresser' category, a piece entitled 'Home' by Gerardo Thiemann!"

I clap along with the rest of the crowd, feeling my heart sink as the second curtain reveals a very nice piece of furniture, dark brown, almost looking gem-like with the shine. I could feel sick. There's no way my work compares. I don't know why I got my hopes up so much.

I suddenly feel a hand gripping my other shoulder way too hard, and I suddenly look down. Charlie is staring up at me. "Why do you look like that?"

"Hmm? Oh... I'm just--"

Charlie glares at me. "Be prouder than that. You made the Top 20. Out of 274! What the hell," he whispers, poking at my ribs as he breaks into a small smile. "And it was hell getting that thing back across the whole country for this judging, so you better not--"

"Our Bronze winner today, the recipient of a prize of $1,500, is in our 'medium table' category--"

Charlie stops talking to hear the announcement, and he sighs. "You made the Top 20! That's insane!" he repeats.

"Yeah, it is," I say sheepishly. Charlie beams regardless, and I can't help but match him. I invited him after finding out I was amongst the top of the group. How could I not. I was surprised he picked up the phone. I was more surprised weeks later to find him seated at my table with my family before I got there, but he quickly established to them that he was my mentor on this project.

It almost blows our cover when he places a cutely carved wooden bear in my hand as we wait. I don't know what he's trying to do to me with that gesture, but it has my ears on fire. He doesn't even look at me. We're the only two seated with the other woodworkers at this moment, though. My family is in the crowd.

"Our Silver winner today is amongst one of the only who got a bid on their stand-out work of art, as it has been sold for $5,777, which will be given in addition to the $2,500 prize awarded to second place. In the 'large dresser' category, with a piece entitled 'The Rustic Sphynx'---"

Charlie stands up, snatching both my hands and squeezing the dear life out of them as I hear none other than my name. His reaction sends me over the moon, as he literally shakes my hands in his like maracas.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" he squeaks. "Andy?!"

"Holy shit," I repeat softly.

Charlie yanks me up out of my seat, pushing me toward the stage. Once again, I'm in a moment that feels entirely unreal, and once again, Charlie is here.

It occurs to me that there's some things that can't be attributed to luck. Not always, at least. For once, I really worked hard for something.

Even then, as I take pictures with the other winners, looking out into the crowd at the people who matter to me most right now, including one I never thought I'd know, I realize whatever luck I have, I'm hoping it never runs out.

-

-

-

Thanks for your patience. A few things happened since I posted chapter one, including me getting a concussion :) as well as my car being temporarily stolen. But things are better (solved, perhaps) and I'm glad to update! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought about this very long, sappy-ended, should-be-more-than-two-parts story.

P. s. i know someone might be commenting right now about how they wish they saw the breakup between andy and chelsea. I know. I was tempted. You already see how long this is! how do you think it went?