Lovely Bastards (BxB) (MxM)

Chapter 15 - Call of the Wolves

A shiver passed through Charles's body when he realized that had been the best sex he'd ever had.

"Aaaaahhhh!!!"

He flung out his arms and threw his head back, shouting out into the open air like a lunatic.

What is happening to me?

Charles was standing on the sidewalk not one block from Amos's flat. He had woken up in the morning after one of the best (and longest, boy did that bar owner have stamina, Charles blushed to remember half of what they'd done) nights of his life and panicked.

There was no other word for it. 

Slowly waking, curled up as the little spoon, warm, happy, satisfied... Then Amos had kissed the top of his spine softly and got out of bed as if to avoid waking the other man, and Charles had heard him turn on the shower, coming out of his sleepy cocoon.

It had hit him...the fear. The anxiousness. The God now it's over and what will I say and how will I look at him and won't it be much easier to - 

So Charles had done what he always did and thrown on yesterday's clothes in a haste, rushing for the door.

He thought he'd heard Amos calling something after him as he dashed away like a coward.

Dropping his arms, embarrassed, Charles started walking back, rubbing his face with one hand. 

That was... What was that? 

It had been...electric. Like the buzz of his third drink, like nothing bad could happen, like he was alive and safe and the focus of something so intense... Amos's dark eyes boring into his, in complete control in a way that made him - 

Charles wanted more already. Damn, damn, damn.

He had to get home. Take a shower - and forget about this. It was just a one-time thing. Just a fluke. The other man hadn't even really wanted him, he had just indulged him. 

Forget it.

Forget how Amos had looked at him, the way his hands had touched him, his voice and the way he had asked and listened and made him feel -

Forget it.

It took him several tries to get his key in the lock. 

Once inside, Charles paused, listening. He cast his eyes about, tensing, an old habit from when he was young. 

Remembering that it was just him and Kit there, his shoulders relaxed and he could breathe again.

Charles wasn't sure what he'd expected from living with a teenager. Loud music, maybe? Friends over? Leaving empty candy wrappers everywhere, perhaps? 

Or was that something younger children did?

So far, Kit had done none of those things. He kept to his room, only coming out to say scathing things and do kind things.

Except for that one time when Charles had found him passed out, Kit had done what he'd said he would and looked after his guardian. He bought groceries, chaperoned him at the bar, made him hangover remedies, and made sure he got off to work on time before he himself left for school.

It occurred to Charles that he didn't hate coming home to Kit. Or talking to him. Or hanging out with him.

Catching a granola bar that Kit tossed him for breakfast in the mornings, passing him on the way to the bathroom with a toothbrush and towel, being offered a grilled sandwich for dinner...

It was almost cosy.

Growing up with his mother had put Charles firmly off the idea of cohabitation. He craved closeness and affection, but the mere thought of having someone around, always watching him for mistakes, ready to judge, scold, maybe strike - make him feel anxious and full of dread.