The Art of Yearning

Assistance

His arms wrapping around you woke you up. The first good mornings being spoken at the same time, hearing his morning voice hoarse and deep. Playing with each other's fingers, which enveloped yours more, you both got out of bed and brushed your teeth together, followed by a minty morning kiss. Making breakfast together, you became accustomed to his space, watching him open drawers that felt like he did this every day, not a thought about the next step he had to take. Handing you a cup of coffee, he knew how you liked it, not a question about what you wanted in it emulating small conversations about the little things, having his arms rest on either side of you as you sat on the kitchen counter, watching his mouth curve with a smile as he talked.

Taking a shower together, he held you, his fingers trailing every inch of your skin, tracing the marks he left on your body the night previously. Lips meeting each other, opening your mouth to allow his to enter yours. You felt his erection on your thigh, already becoming slick. He picked you up, feeling the water trail down your spine, slowly thrusting into your entrance, stretching you wide. Getting acclimated with his size that sent pleasure and pain throughout your body. Hearing his quiet moans, his pants hitting your chest with every movement of his hips, it made you have a sense of self-assurance that the satisfaction he was feeling was from you, hoping he felt the same for you. Grabbing the back of his neck, you rested your cheek on his, whispers of appraisal escaping your lips. Climaxing together, you both eyed each other, regaining your breaths together, and your favorite laughing together.

The both of you finishing your shower, he wrapped you in a warm towel before wrapping his around his hips, leading you to his room. He handed you your clothes straight from the dryer. "So I see, you did not sleep in, and instead washed my clothes." You spoke, sitting on his bed, eying him put on his underwear.

"I did wake up in the middle of the night and decided to work a little bit, so I could have more free time, and I don't think you want to share my clothes with me." He joked, looking at you, seeing the dark shadow under his eyes gone, his skin flushed. He looked well-rested and well fucked too.

"I wouldn't argue if I have to. Your style is unique. Thank you for washing my clothes." Standing up to place your panties, you watched as many questions raised in his mind, his eyebrows quickly furrowing. "Unique in a good way, not in a bad way. Like if you were miles away, I would be able to notice you."

"Oh good, I thought my tallness would give that away."

"Aw, more jokes from Charlie himself," You added, clasping your bra behind your back, "So what are we doing today?"

"We? Don't you have to work?" He questioned, sliding his collared shirt on. You did have to work, but what had happened with Parker made you want to take a step back and reflect on why you felt sympathy for him. Shouldn't you be angry with him, want him to take the first plane ticket back? You didn't want to mention to Charlie what had happened, wanting him to enjoy every moment, not knowing how he would react. Knowing that what you could say could negatively change his mood made you suppress it.

"No, that is why I am mentioning it. Wouldn't it be fun if I was your assistant for the day? You didn't think I would let you be all stressed, do you?" Seeing his lips purse from consideration, you walked to him, grabbing his ironed shirt and helping him close it. "I promise not to distract you." You sang, patting on his chest when you finished buttoning his shirt.

"Okay, fine, you can help me today, and I hope you keep your promise," Charlie added, making you smile wide, "But who said it would be fun?" Putting on your clothes, you realized your shirt has shrunk.

"You do it for a living, and you're like well-known for having the best plays." Stretching your shirt, he grabbed your face, kissing the top of your head.