To You and Back

Chapter 7: Evening the Score

Charlie's apartment was on the top floor of the brownstone, open and airy, with potted plants by the windows and plush beige carpeting throughout. White cushioned and overstuffed chairs and couches surrounded weathered wood tables, creating a warm, cozy feel. White wainscotting was topped by checkered wallpaper of various shades of green and yellow, looking very country chic. Fresh flowers sat on the living room table, scenting the air with their floral perfume.

Peter noticed none of it, not because the lights were off, but because he was more focused on the man who owned it. The two men fell to the bed together, Peter on his back, Charlie straddling his waist as he stripped off his jacket. They kissed, hungrily, urgently, Peter's hands pulling Charlie's shirt out of his waistband and sliding his hands underneath, up the firm back, grazing his spine. Charlie's fingers deftly undid Peter's shirt buttons and pushed the fabric away, exposing a toned chest. He broke their kiss to lick and bite his way down the man's body, his hands sliding down with him to graze in the soft black trail of hair leading below his belt, before gripping Peter tightly through his trousers. Peter gave a loud moan.

"Keep it down," Charlie said. "Or I'll have to gag you."

"I could use something to keep my mouth company." Peter looked down to see the other man grin.

Charlie sat up to pull his shirt off, revealing his own less defined but toned and athletic torso. Peter sat up, too, and reaching forward put a hand behind Charlie's head and pulled him forwards into a kiss. Charlie moved on top to straddle him once more, and Peter wrapped an arm around the narrow waist and rolled, bringing Charlie to the bed under him and pressing him into the mattress with a deep kiss.

"You don't have to hold back," Peter said wetly against his lips. "We're in your own bed. Let me hear your voice."

Charlie looked up at him, his blue eyes glittering in the light from the bedside table. "Oh," he breathed, "don't worry, you'll hear it."

The rest of their clothes came off quickly, shirts shrugged off shoulder, shoes thudding to the carpet, belts and zippers undone. "Who was your date tonight?" Peter asked, gripping the waistband of Charlie's pants and underwear together.

Lifting his hips off the bed to let Peter slid his pants off over his thighs and legs, Charlie said, "Why the hell are you asking that now?"

"Curiosity." Peter tossed the pants aside. "I assume you were prepared for a favorable outcome?"

Charlie turned towards the bedside table. Seconds later, Peter caught a red plastic tube tossed at him. He examined it.

"Hm, a full tube," he said. "It's either very new, or very sad."

"Doesn't that mouth have something better to do than talk at me?"

Peter grinned. He flipped the cap on the tube with a plastic click and squeezed a generous amount of lubricant onto his hand and fingers with a wet squelch. He tossed the tube onto the bed beside Charlie. "Open wide," he said, pushing Charlie's thigh up.

"Funny," Charlie said, shifting lower on the bed and spreading his knees. "I was about to say the same thing to you."

Peter could not help but laugh. There was no preamble in his technique; he gripped Charlie's hardened length with his left hand while his right hand sought backwards, circling the opening twice before probing into it. With his tongue he moistened Charlie from root to tip, then took him into his mouth. Arching his back and closing his eyes, Charlie moaned at the hot, wet mouth around him and the fingers slipping in and out of him. One hand curled into the pillow beneath his head, while the other reached down to tangle in soft mahogany hair. The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, moaning, gasps, squishing, and suction.