Page 85 of These Old Lies

Charlie shifted until he was sitting in Ned’s lap, their faces nearly touching. “We’ve been at it like bunnies these past months, and you’ve come what, a third of the time? A quarter? Have you been fucking me out of pity? Is the truth that I’m awful on my knees?”

“God no!” Ned spoke almost too loudly. “You’re incredible, ecstasy inducing. The best I ever had.”

“The best, eh?” Charlie's face split into a broad grin. “Always good to hear, but that wasn’t my point. Your body works the way it works. I can tell exactly when it gets to be too much and you won’t come. Doesn’t mean sometimes I don’t wish you would. I love to watch you fall apart, but as long as you’re in my arms, enjoying yourself, I’m happy. I was having a good time last night, and I was hoping to have a good time tonight.”

“I want to be enough for you.” At Ned’s shame, the words came out as a whisper.

“For a brilliant man, sometimes you can be awfully thick-headed.” Charlie’s eyes darted around, and before Ned had a chance to work out what Charlie was looking for, he pulled Ned up from the chair. “Do you still remember how to be quiet?”

Ned shouldn’t find those words as erotic as he did. “You can’t be proposing what I think you are?”

“The servants have all gone to bed,” Charlie repeated. “So do you remember?” he mouthed the words against Ned’s neck.

“Yes,” Ned answered breathily. What Charlie was proposing was wrong, dangerous, and Ned wanted it so badly.

Charlie stepped off his lap and backed up against the sturdy wood bookcases that lined that wall. “Get over here, Pinsent.”

Ned stood up as if he were a puppet on a string and found himself yanked into a harsh, unrelenting kiss. A moan escaped him, and Charlie pulled back. “I said be quiet.”

Chastised, and even harder for it, Ned apologised with his lips, worshipping not just Charlie’s soft mouth, but his jaw, neck. Charlie had given himself a close shave in advance of the dinner party, and the soft skin was soft, addictive.

Charlie’s hands slipped down from Ned’s arms to their trousers, flicking the buttons open with the brutal efficiency that normally indicated that Ned was about to get it. A shiver ran down Ned’s spine in anticipation.

Except, with his dancer’s grace, Charlie pulled back from Ned’s kiss, grinned at him, and flipped around so that he was now facing the bookcases, arms braced against the wooden shelves, arse bare with his trousers and drawers around his ankles. He looked over his shoulder with a sly look. “Going to get me ready, then?”

Oh fuck.

Whatever intellectual capacity Ned had remaining after the evening’s proceedings was burned up at the raw sight of his lover presenting himself like this to Ned, blue eyes flashing with mischief, legs spread.

Charlie sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to instruct you then.”

Ned’s fist gripped his cock tighter. “Yes,” he managed to shudder out.

“Give me your fingers.” At Charlie’s instructions, Ned brought his left hand to Charlie’s mouth, which Charlie took finger by finger, sucking and swirling.

“Now make me feel good.” Ned set about doing exactly that, using every trick he’d acquired as well as some he had just fantasied about to make his lover fall apart. Caressing Charlie’s cock, balls, every inch of skin and nerves Ned could find. He was enthralled by every shudder and hitched breath.

Charlie might be the one bare-arsed, but he was in total control of Ned.

A small tin container was pressed into Ned’s hand, “You’re very good with your hands. Might want to use some of this.” Charlie had brought Vaseline? It had been sitting in his pocket since dinner? That level of planning made Ned groan. “Make me forget who I am.”

God, Ned hoped he could. Not just because he wanted to bring Charlie pleasure, but because the vulnerability of being taken like this wasn’t one that Charlie afforded himself often.

Slicking up his fingers, Ned breeched Charlie, gently but with no hesitation. He had his orders. Ned knew what he was looking for, and it tookhardly any strokes until Charlie was gasping. Ned wrapped his arm around Charlie’s chest to provide him with extra support.

“Whatever you need, whatever you want, you take from me,” Ned said, setting a slow rhythm, wanting to give Charlie the opportunity to savour the sensations. “Use me, fuck yourself on me.”

Charlie did just that, adjusting and shifting his hips, controlling and driving the movement. This was exactly what Ned liked, a bit at Charlie’s mercy, a bit wanton, and a bit out of control. Ned thrust back against Charlie’s thigh, because how could he not?

“I love you.” Charlie words were breathy, on the cusp of tears.

“God yes. Love you too. With everything I have,” Ned gasped, Charlie’s words completing parts of Ned's soul.

Charlie reached around and gripped Ned’s cock, tightly and fast. It was an awkward angle, but it was enough. Ned was done. He wasn’t trying to be the perfect son, the saviour of his friends, the moral compass of his country. He was pure need, laid bare for Charlie’s use and pleasure.

Normally, it was Charlie who spoke in bed, but the words couldn’t stop tumbling out of Ned, whispering gently about how beautiful he was, how loved he was. Charlie came, shuddering, shaking, tears streaming down his face.

Careful not to rush the moment, Ned withdrew his fingers, kissed the sweat-streaked temple of Charlie’s face, and then kneeled to gently pull up Charlie’s drawers and trousers, carefully re-doing the buttons and belt.