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The advent calendar has been sitting in the corner of my bedroom taunting me for days, and I genuinely thought that would end as soon as Charlie turned up on my doorstep.
That was wishful thinking.
Because here I am, fingers practically trembling as I ease open Door Number One. Charlie’s sitting across from me on the end of the bed, cross-legged. His eyes are wide with anticipation—bright and expectant—maybe a little too focused for my heart rate to cope with.
We’ve been talking, mostly about the calendar, ever since he left a few days ago. He keeps telling me how excited he is to see what’s behind each door, and I’d love to share that excitement with him—if my nerves could just get a fucking grip.
‘Hurry up,’ he urges, voice pitched high with excitement. ‘Let’s see what we get to work with.’
I smile and swallow; my mouth’s dry. I’m trying to steady myself, but how can I when all I can think about is laying him back on the bed, taking him into my mouth and—
‘Nick, give it here.’
He leans over the bed and playfully snatches it from my hands. I smile—no, I grin—because he’s so fucking cute.
Before I can even calibrate my thoughts, he’s already wedged the door open with his finger and fished out the first of two components—a tiny piece of paper, rolled and tied with a pink bow to match the calendar’s theme.
He impatiently tugs the bow loose, eyes darting up to me every couple of seconds like he’s checking I’m paying attention.
And I am. Of course I am.
But the nerves and belly flips are getting harder to hide, let alone control.
Charlie smooths the paper out, lips parting slightly as he reads. His expression flickers—surprise, amusement, then something softer, something dangerous.
‘Day One – To see or be seen.’ He reads it aloud, his voice trailing off like his imagination is already running wild.
Me, on the other hand? I’m sitting here wondering what the hell that could even mean. I wouldn’t say I’m exactly inexperienced in the bedroom, but I’ve never really delved into anything kinky before—not properly. Definitely nothing that comes with instructions printed on fancy little cards.
He sets the stack of printed cards on the bed—and when I say stack, I mean four or five at most. Each one has a suggestive Christmas-themed image on the back and an explanation or suggestion on the front. I’m dying to know what they say, but Charlie’s clearly taking the lead here, so I sit still and wait for instructions.
He reads the rest of the embossed message from the small sheet of paper in his hand.
‘Tonight, let your gaze wander.’ He looks up at me through his lashes, eyes glinting with mischief—mischief laced with something else.
Something that makes my cock twitch. Something that makes me want to crawl across the bed and wait, obedient and ready, for whatever comes next.
The embarrassment heats my whole body, a prickling warmth under my skin that sinks low—pooling in my groin, twisting into a need so sharp it makes my cock ache.
‘You’re doing so well, Nick,’ Charlie reassures, like he can sense I’m nervous and uncomfortable… and that I want this more than anything.
‘And people do this for enjoyment?’ I ask. I’m being playful, but I’m also entirely serious. Charlie said he’d find it hot, but I can’t understand how not touching each other is something I’d be into.
He’d given me orders to strip and lie on the bed. He told me he’d guide me through it, and that’s why—without a single question—I peeled off each piece of clothing, hesitant but willing, and laid exactly where Charlie told me to.
I’m thankful for the fairy lights strung above my bed, hopeful the soft glow hides the blush burning across my cheeks.
He’s beside me now, head braced on his palm, looking right at me. He’s trouserless—just boxers and a T-shirt tightly fitted to his body—and every time I glance down, I catch a teasing sliver of hip that does far more to me than it should.
Charlie notices the twitch of my cock and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
‘I’m getting the impression you’re enjoying it already. So yes, people enjoy this.’
I huff playfully—because he’s right—and tip my head back into the pillow. I’ve never felt such a mind fuck of emotions in my life.
How the hell am I supposed to focus on getting myself off with Charlie staring at me like that?
I feel so vulnerable, so far out of my comfort zone, but the way his eyes rake slowly over my naked body overrides everything—every thought, every feeling—and now I’m left in a haze of wanting nothing but to please.
‘What should I do?’ I ask, my voice cracking.
Charlie’s playful nonchalance shifts in an instant—his expression softens, almost proud, like he’s pleased I asked, pleased I’m taking the initiative.
‘Touch yourself, Nick,’ he says, voice low as he shuffles a little closer.
We’d talked about all of this beforehand—limits, boundaries, everything—and I agreed. So even as vulnerability coils tight and hot in my belly, I let out a shaky breath and let my hand drift down my sternum, trying to steady myself under the weight of his attention.
‘Like this?’ I ask, skimming my hand down my chest and over my stomach. I flinch when it tickles and smile without meaning to, and Charlie licks his bottom lip. His eyes follow every movement, intent and hungry, and as silly as I feel… am I actually starting to understand the appeal?
Maybe I could get into it—put on a bit of a show.
‘C-could you tell me what to do?’ I ask, my gaze flicking between his lips and his crystal-blue eyes.
He sucks in a breath and nods. The air is charged and—fuck—this is actually hot.
‘Keep going,’ he instructs, and God, I love being told what to do.
His gaze is tangled with mine, steady and sure. It doesn’t waver once, like he’s genuinely enjoying watching every flicker of emotion cross my face. Like he can see the internal battle—the part of me that wants to pull back and the part that’s so turned on and desperate to please.
My hand drifts to my cock, and our attention zeroes in on each other. He doesn’t falter—just nods once, firm and approving, when I take myself in hand.
The desperation is starting to prickle under my skin.
‘That’s it,’ he murmurs, voice seeping confidence, so cool and collected it almost undoes me. ‘Show me how you like it.’
I slowly tease the tip of my cock, sliding the small amount of precome around before dragging it down my shaft.
My movements are slow and uncertain, my breathing shallow. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.
‘You look so fucking hot, Nick,’ Charlie breathes, his lips close enough that I feel the warmth ghost across my cheek.
I keep going, even though every fibre of my body is begging me to stop—to shut this down before I embarrass myself, before I ruin whatever this thing is with Charlie. I look away, hoping he can’t see the panic poisoning my thoughts.
But before I can spiral too far, he turns my face back to him with a gentle hand, his expression impossibly soft.
The way his palm cups my cheek—steady, certain—reminds me this is meant to be fun. Exciting. Something just for us.
Us. God. I let out a breathy laugh at that, my mind running away with things as per usual.
Charlie made it clear what the expectations were—sex. Simple. Casual. And I really need to switch off the part of my brain that’s itching to melt into a hopeless, heart-eyed puddle every time he so much as looks at me.
‘Don’t hide,’ he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. ‘I want to see you.’
My hand instinctively tightens around my cock and—
Yeah. We’re back in business.
‘God, you’re beautiful,’ Charlie says, his fingers pressing more firmly into my cheek, keeping my gaze pinned to his.
A reminder of the control he has over me. And the control I want so badly to give him.
I’m working myself now, the tension bleeding out of my body as pleasure begins to take over. Charlie lets go of my face, and his hand drifts down to my chest. I don’t know if this breaks any rules, but I don’t care—because his touch is warm and grounding, and the heat of his palm sends a fresh pulse of need straight through me.
‘Fuck,’ I huff out.
I can’t help myself; my body leans toward him like it’s magnetised. I roll slightly onto my side so I can soak him in—his face, his eyes roaming slowly up and down my body, the way he’s hard against my thigh now that I’ve shifted closer.
It feels more intimate like this. Too intimate. But I can’t dissect that right now.
My hand moves faster, harder—instinctive and desperate. My balls are tightening, that delicious tingle building in my fingertips and toes.
‘Fuck, Nick… you look s-so fucking good.’ He stutters, and fuck, that’s almost enough to finish me on the spot. How did I ever doubt this?
‘Keep going. Oh my God—you are so fucking good for me.’
Praise. Oh fuck.
He smirks, not smug, but like he was testing a theory and is very, very pleased it paid off.
‘C–Charlie… fuck,’ I manage, panting now. Sweat beading on my forehead, and it takes every shred of willpower not to abandon my own cock and get my hands on him instead.
I need him. Now.
But when I look up, he’s just as undone—pushing subtly against my thigh, seeking friction, his breath catching every time my hand moves. And suddenly my whole brain is just white noise and want.
Then I see it—indecision flickering over his face. He shifts like he’s about to pull back, hesitates, and I let out a whine.
A whine.
I’m too far gone to even be embarrassed.
And then—like a dam finally breaking—the decision settles over him, he leans in, crashing his mouth to mine.
We kiss like we’re starving, hungry and frantic for more.
His fingertips dig into my chest, sharp enough that I feel the bite of his nails, and for a moment I feel owned. Completely, utterly his.
‘I’m—I’m gonna—’ I grunt, breath catching.
Then the wave hits me.
It slams through every nerve ending, dragging me under. My vision blanks. My whole body seizes, and I’m squeezing myself tight as pleasure overtakes me.
‘I’m coming—’ I huff out, the words breaking apart, ‘Oh my God, Charlie—’
They’re the last coherent things that escape me before a raw, throaty groan tears its way out of my chest.
My free hand grabs his hip, dragging him harder into my thigh as I come in desperate pulses over my fist.
Fuck.
When I come down from another intense orgasm, I’m honestly stunned and confused at how I’ve never made myself come like that before.
But before I can let my mind wander, Charlie is breathing hard against my neck, warm and shaky.
Something like confidence floods through me—this urgent need to touch him, to make him come as intensely as I just did.
Fuck the rules. There’s no way I can just lie here and watch him get himself off. I’d never survive it.
So without a second thought, I’m pushing him onto his back, tugging at his T-shirt with my clean hand. He doesn’t waste a second—hoists it up and over his head—and fuck, his body in this low light is unreal.
The definition of his collarbone; I want to flick my tongue into the dip there and trail kisses all the way down his body. His hips catch the light, his boxers slung low, his erection straining against the fabric.
He just looks at me, hands drifting slowly to his waistband, teasing the edge. My eyes don’t know where to land—fuck, it’s a dilemma.
His face is flushed, pupils blown, and he looks ravenous as he waits for my gaze to settle. He’s waiting for a decision he knows is impossible.
His lips quirk at the corners—knowing exactly what he’s doing to me.
Turns out I don’t need to decide. I lean in and kiss him, murmuring my thanks against his lips for everything he’s done for me so far, before trailing kisses down his neck. He’s practically purring beneath me as he pushes his boxers down.
It’s a bit awkward and takes some manoeuvring, but I grab his discarded T-shirt and wipe myself off quickly—we can deal with that after—because I want to make the absolute most of having Charlie spread out on his back for me.
As I settle between his legs and begin to kiss down his body, he seems to understand where this is going. He runs his fingers through my hair and I get lost in the feel of his muscles flinching under my lips with each kiss.
‘Isn’t this cheating—’ his voice is uneven, which just spurs me on.
He stays quiet for a moment before continuing, ‘The calendar—oh God—we’re meant to be…’
He trails off as I reach his groin, and I linger there longer than necessary, nipping and nuzzling into the warm crease where it meets his thigh.
‘Oh, fuck,’ he huffs. ‘Nick—’ His grip tightens.
‘Open your eyes,’ I say sharply, before I keep going. I’m just as wrecked as he is. ‘See? Now tilt your head. Keep your eyes on me.’
‘But—’
I love how his words drag, like he’s using every scrap of concentration just to speak.
Then he pushes himself up onto his hands, eyes locked on mine, and I glance up at him.
And thank fuck—his breath stutters, any protest is lost the second I take him into my mouth.