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Leaving Charlie in my bed this morning is definitely going in my top ten moments. Curled into the duvet, curls splayed across the pillow—and best of all, the sleepy little peck he gave me when my alarm went off.
I’d half expected it to be a bit awkward in the morning. For him to wake up and shuffle about, not quite sure where to put himself.
But no.
He stayed asleep. Comfortable. Like it was his bed too.
That’s a big deal, right?
It feels… official. It feels very boyfriend.
Is it too soon to think like that? My brain says absolutely not—you’ve got a connection, don’t overthink it.
My heart, on the other hand, tells me to jog on and stop getting ahead of myself.
Don’t even get me started on how I would actually ask him. It’d be Christmas 2029 and I’d still be trying to stutter the words out through my very real fear of rejection.
These are the thoughts that have kept my mind occupied all day. Thank God it was the last day of school, and the only brain cells I needed were the ones required to wrangle my over-excited Year Threes through assembly—and then to limit the damage from the very slapdash Christmas party we held in my classroom.
‘Hey, Char,’ I call down the hall when I finally get home.
It’s nice—coming back to the heating already on, the Christmas tree lights glowing through the lounge door. I haven’t even seen him yet and I can already feel his presence here.
‘Hey, my honey’s home,’ he calls back, and butterflies immediately take up residence in my stomach.
Coming home to a person. Not an empty house.
To Charlie.
Unmatched.
‘You didn’t have to get M&S biscuits, you know,’ Charlie says as we sit on the sofa, his legs draped over my thighs while he tucks himself into the corner by the arm.
Tea and biscuits in hand, obviously.
‘I did,’ I reply, affronted, ‘because somebody complained about my previous selection.’
He rolls his eyes and gives his calf a little shake, like he’s about to kick me.
‘I meant, like… a Bourbon. Or maybe a chocolate digestive, if you were feeling wild,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Just not the manky Rich Tea you had.’
He wrinkles his nose. ‘You know people usually eat those when they’re ill, right?’
‘They’re not that bad,’ I say, half-hearted, already losing the argument.
Charlie just smiles and shifts closer, tucking his feet under my leg like it’s instinct now. ‘Mm,’ he hums, unconvinced.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling—just the clink of mugs and the soft glow of the tree.
I take a sip of my tea and think, yeah. I could get used to this.
‘But I’m not pretty enough to be a princess,’ I say, pouting—half joking, half not.
The calendar said, Tonight, it’s your turn to be cherished, and I’d assumed that meant I’d get to do the cherishing.
Apparently, Charlie has other plans.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor. Charlie stands in front of me, clearly amused with my sass and cups my face. He then slips neatly into my lap, straddling me, his arms sliding around my neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
‘Yes, you are,’ he whispers. ‘You’re such a pretty princess when you pout.’
He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my lips, and my lashes flutter shut, heat rushing to my cheeks at the words.
‘I’ve never been called pretty before,’ I admit before I can stop myself.
‘Well, you are,’ he says simply, kissing down along my neck. I tip my head back without thinking, instinctively giving him space.
His grip firms around my shoulders as he shifts on my lap, and my cock responds immediately—warmth pooling low in my groin.
‘Do you like being called a princess, Nick?’ he asks. There’s a firmness to his voice.
‘Yeah,’ I admit far too quickly. Because I do. I really do.
‘Good,’ he murmurs. ‘Because princesses get royal treatment. And tonight, that means I’m taking care of you.’
Oh.
My god.
‘Okay, Charlie,’ I manage, swallowing hard, completely flustered.
I’m not sure if it’s the tenderness in his voice, or the way I’m already so horny that my usual inhibitions have quietly slipped away—but I start to feel light, fluttery.
Small.
Like I can just… let myself be cared for. So instead of fighting it, I let myself sink into it.
‘I’m going to take my time with you,’ he says, low and rough, his hand coming back up to cup my face. He’s so close I can feel his breath.
‘Didn’t you take enough time with me last night?’ I try to joke, forcing out a laugh.
He doesn’t rise to it.
Instead, he holds my gaze for a beat—steady, knowing—before leaning in again.
We’re kissing before I can think about it, mouths moving fast and eager, the air between us heating almost instantly as I thrust up into him, caught up in the rush.
‘Someone’s a little eager,’ he murmurs against my mouth, amused—and I just try to kiss him again.
‘Tell me what you want, sweetheart,’ he says softly—and my mind goes completely blank.
I’m nowhere near brave enough to say it out loud.
I shake my head instead and lean in, trying to kiss him again.
He pulls back.
Fuck.
‘Charlie,’ I huff, wrapping my arms around him, tugging him closer like that might fix it.
He resists, gently but firmly, creating space between us.
Of course he does.
‘I want you to tell me, darling,’ he says, and the endearment does exactly what it’s meant to.
Embarrassment mixes with a sharp, restless urgency, sparking through me all at once.
‘I—I want you to have sex with me,’ I manage quietly, the words barely making it past my lips.
His smile is slow and knowing.
‘Well done,’ he says, and there’s pride in his voice—which I like. God, I like that.
’Whatever my princess wants, he gets.’
His princess.
I’m his—the thought settles immediately in my chest.
His hands are warm and sure as they slide beneath my T-shirt, lifting it away slowly, like he’s in charge.
I’m rock hard now, as Charlie presses his warm palm to my chest.
His eyes are sparkling as he guides me back against the mattress, every movement unhurried and intentional—like he knows exactly what he wants to do to me.
He takes his time after that, easing me out of my clothes piece by piece while I just lie there and let it happen, pliant and warm and entirely focused on him.
Then he’s moving me to get access to the place he needs.
I’m gone. Completely. Lost in the feeling of being handled so tenderly.
Treated with nothing but care. With an attention that makes thinking feel unnecessary.
He kneels on the floor and settles himself between my splayed legs, bum pulled to the edge of the mattress. I don’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed. My head is swimming, my thoughts slow and fuzzy, all of my focus narrowed down to him and the way he’s watching me. Waiting.
‘Would you like me to get you ready, princess?’ he asks softly.
There’s no point pretending otherwise. Whatever this is has me completely undone.
‘Y-yes, please,’ I manage.
‘Hey,’ he says gently, grounding me with a reassuring touch along my thigh. ‘You don’t need to be nervous. I’ll be careful.’
He tells me to relax, to breathe, and I do—melting back into the mattress, trusting him completely as he breaches me gently with a lubed up finger.
Charlie takes his time with me—achingly slow, unhurried. Every touch is gentle, every word soft and reassuring.
The whole thing is threaded with affection, with care, and—I know I’m imagining it—love.
I come undone, mewling and moaning at his voice more than anything else.
At every “I’ve got you.”
Every “you’re doing perfectly.”
Every murmured “that’s it, darling.”
By the time he adds in a third finger, and starts fucking me slowly with careful precision, I’m trembling.
He’s so attentive, he gives me time to adjust, he sucks gently on my balls which quite frankly sends me to another planet every time. It’s just perfect, overwhelming, amazing.
I’m so far gone it barely feels possible to hold myself together. Like I might come apart from the care alone, long before anything else even happens.
When he says ‘That’s my pretty boy.’ like I’’m something he owns, something precious, I’m nearly coming.
‘Char,’ I rasp. ‘Please.’
‘I’m ready’
He pushes his fingers in deeper a few more times before he removes them and kisses up down down my thigh.
I melt. My body feels loose and open, all intention stripped away. Waiting for Charlie to have me however he wants me.
He guides me further up the bed and crawls between my legs. He kisses me all over, then enters me as slowly and carefully as you would expect. When the sting has gone and I’ve adjusted, he takes a moment and we just stare at one another.
I’m a smiling, fuzzy mess. I could babble, actually. He kisses my nose, strokes my cheekbone, then slowly starts moving, and I’m blissed out.
Taking him. All of him. I can’t think of anything else but Charlie—being inside me, Charlie moving into me slowly, calling me a pet names, looking after me.
‘You’re doing so well, darling,’ he says it with conviction and I believe him.
Every deep thrust followed with:
‘I love having you like this, your dainty hole taking me so well.’
‘So stretched for me.’
‘Such a good boy.’
My stomach tightens, and I can feel the familiar coil of heat in my groin, but this time it feels softer—like Charlie’s words have had an effect on me.
Like I don’t need to be this stoic, put-together man. I can just be me—soft, fluffy Nick, who wears his emotions on his sleeve.
And fuck.
It feels good to let go.
I’m no longer chasing release, but waiting for Charlie to get me to the edge and tip me over.
He’s panting above me, still talking me through it. It’s tender, intentional, and I feel overwhelmed with emotion.
It washes through me, lapping at the edges, spilling over.
I’ve never felt so cherished before. So desired. Like someone is taking care of me from the inside out.
Like everything they’re doing is about me. For me.
I can feel my throat constrict, and then my eyes start to water.
A single tear slips down my cheek, and Charlie wipes it away with his thumb.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart.’
Then Charlie’s kissing me, and the tears spill. When he wraps a hand around me between us and starts to work me—his rhythm in sync with his thrusts—I let out a throaty sob.
But he doesn’t stop. He kisses me through it, my face wet, dampening our kisses, and he doesn’t care. And I don’t feel embarrassed.
I feel free, just for a moment. Free of the man I’m supposed to be. The one I’m expected to be.
Right now, I’m just Charlie’s. Charlie’s to cherish and care for.
We’re kissing hotly now, grabbing at each other, the need between us returning with vengeance. Then my legs are shaking, my whole body clenching, and with one more brush of my prostate, that tips me over, I’m coming.
He’s pushing into me, less rhythmic but deeper, teeth catching at my lip. He’s coming too.
We’re moaning and panting into each other’s mouths before we finally collapse, spent and tangled.
I normally make some internal comment about it being the best orgasm of my life—something I’ve apparently decided after every time we’ve had sex so far.
But this time, as I lie here, it’s different.
I realise I’ve never felt so unburdened. Like a softer version of myself that has always existed under the surface has finally been set free.
Charlie disposes of the condom and cleans me up. It takes me a little longer to come back to myself.
‘Are you okay, Nick?’ Charlie asks as he lies beside me. There’s a hint of hesitation in his voice.
‘Perfect,’ I manage, with as much conviction as I can muster.
He pulls me in close, and I just soak up this dazed feeling, loving the warmth of him pressed against me.
‘I’m just going to run us a bath.’ He says as he kisses my cheek and then he’s gone.
I wonder if I heard him right. A bath. For us?
A bath for us indeed.
The hot water pinks my skin almost instantly, and I sigh as I sink lower, eager to be fully enveloped by the heat. My body feels loose and heavy all at once, every muscle finally unclenching.
I’m spent. Depleted.
But in the best possible way—like I’ve poured everything out and been filled back up with something lighter.
I sink back against Charlie, fitting easily between his legs like it’s where I’m meant to be. His arms rest loose around my middle.
I’m a ball of happiness right now. How did I get this lucky? It takes real effort not to cry again—happy tears of course.
He presses a kiss just behind my ear, more of a nuzzle really, and I melt into it, my shoulders finally dropping.
We start talking properly then. About everything. And it’s met with nothing but patience and understanding—because it’s Charlie so of course it is.
‘I just love looking after you,’ he says quietly, like he’s worried I might think it’s strange.
‘I’ve just never been treated so…’ I trail off, searching for the right word, my head still swimming.
‘I just—’ I try again. ‘I really love the way you treat me. I don’t feel like I have to pretend. Or be so… manly. So in control.’
‘In control?’
I turn slightly so he can see me roll my eyes.
‘Not that kind of control,’ I say, huffing a quiet laugh. ‘Just… like I always have to be the steady one. The responsible one. The one who’s fine.’
His arms tighten around me, just a little.
‘I’ve told you before,’ he says simply. ‘You don’t have to be any of that with me.’
‘I know.’ I reply.
And this time, I’m starting to believe it.