Chapter Text
It was t-minus 30 hours to The Reunification when I got the text that put me into a tailspin for two weeks. Fucking rugby team.
Nick and I have this whole plan worked out, and it has been keeping us afloat during his first semester at uni, which is almost over already. Every four weeks, he takes the train home from Leeds and spends a weekend— sometimes even a three day weekend— visiting me, his mum, his dogs, his friends… but mostly me. And every four weeks, I get to do the same, as long as I’m in my mum’s good graces. Needless to say, I’ve never been more on top of my school work. I’m a model student these days. I even help out a little extra around the house when I’m due to go see Nick so that my parents have absolutely no reason to make me stay home. Plus, they know my mental health is basically dependent on getting to see Nick on a regular basis, so there’s that.
With our schedule, we get to see each other every other weekend, which isn’t exactly ideal but it’s at least often enough that neither of us is going completely crazy… at least not yet. We FaceTime pretty much every night and we text each other constantly, but if I’m being completely honest, when it’s not a Nick weekend I’m just counting down the days until the next time we’re together.
We knew that Nick playing for the uni rugby team might eventually throw a wrench in our schedule, but we decided we’d cross that bridge if we came to it. Leeds’ rugby matches are on Wednesdays, so we didn’t anticipate having too many issues with our weekend visiting schedule anyway. That is… until Nick decided he had to be all GOOD at rugby and get invited to some stupid special weekend fixture.
Apparently it’s rare for freshers to get asked to play this particular match, but one of Nick’s stupid fucking teammates had to go and tear his ACL, which led to the coach asking Nick last minute if he could fill in. Like… less than two days before Nick was due to come home.
I tried to be excited and supportive when he told me his coach had passed up quite a few eligible second years and asked him to play the match instead. Of course, he’d asked me if it was okay if he missed our weekend just this once for this super important game that of course isn’t as important as me but could be a determining factor for the future of his rugby career. I could tell he felt absolutely horrible even asking, but I also know how important rugby is to Nick and how much getting tapped for this fixture as a first year means. He’s good. Like… really, really good. I’m dating a university athlete with the potential to become a pro athlete, no big deal. Holy shit.
Fast forward two more weeks of absolute torture. It’s been almost an entire month since I’ve seen Nick in person, and I’m pretty sure my vision has started to turn black around the edges. I’ve been working really hard on my mental health, but I would be lying through my teeth if I said that this hasn’t been the hardest month of my life, or at least the hardest month since I had to spend some time inpatient a couple of years ago— that’s a story for a different day.
I wish I was stronger than that, but at least I can admit to myself that I’m struggling. And, honestly? It’s with good reason. I’m in love with Nick. I’m stupidly, sickly, nauseatingly in love with Nicholas Nelson. His absence is like a tangible thing in my life, like a dull blade that presses deeper and deeper into my chest the longer I go without seeing him. After an entire month without him, I’m actually shocked that I’m getting my ass out of bed every morning, let alone going to class. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe anymore and it’s getting worse every day. It’s completely pathetic.
Of course, I have my own life. I have great friends, a meaningful hobby. I have a job and I’m even head boy at school. But even with all of those things filling my life, Nick’s absence still chafes badly every time I think of him… which is all the time.
It’s Wednesday morning, which means there are two more days until I get to see him again, not even counting today. I’m sure I can muster up the life force to make it through two days, though, right? Then I’ll be on a train to Leeds and I’ll have 48 hours with Nick. After this long, though? 48 hours does not seem like nearly enough. I’m already dreading Sunday and it’s only Wednesday.
Nick has a match tonight, and the team usually goes out afterwards, so it’s the one night each week where our FaceTime gets cut short, if we have time for it at all. Luckily tonight is a home game, so we might actually get thirty minutes or so to check in. Sometimes he tries to skip the celebration with his teammates to “hang out” with me instead, but I refuse to be that guy. He needs to have a healthy social life and not resent me for keeping him home, shackled to his laptop when he should be doing shots or dancing or… whatever it is that rugby lads do at bars after games. I chuckle to myself at the mental image of Nick trying to dance with his teammates (something he only does in when he’s absolutely plastered).
Yeah, I’m not sure I’m going to make it through today.
I drag my sorry ass downstairs, where mum is sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looks at me expectantly, then inclines her head towards the toaster, where she’s set out a loaf of bread and some butter. That’s… a little weird. She hasn’t paid attention to my breakfast habits in well over a year. I’m nearly eighteen, after all. Again, pathetic.
I walk over to the counter, untwisting the bread bag and popping two slices into the toaster. I pour myself a cup of coffee, then impatiently push up the lever, not caring enough to wait for it to toast properly. I grab the bread and drop it unceremoniously on a breakfast plate, which mum has also left out on the counter. I roll my eyes. Yeah, it’s definitely having to open the cabinet to pull out a plate that’s been stopping me from eating and not the giant gaping hole in my chest. Thanks, mum.
I sit at the table across from her, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my feed, continuing to sip my coffee, since this caffeine is my only hope at being half awake in class this morning. With the amount of fucks I have left to give…
By the time my coffee is half gone, I’ve noticed mum is just staring at me. She’s got an odd look on her face.
“Umm… what’s up, mum?” I ask, desperately trying to control the irritation in my voice because it’s almost Nick-weekend and I refuse to get grounded for my attitude.
“Charlie, when is the last time you ate a proper meal?”
I look up from my phone at her tone, which is oddly serious for this early in the morning. Then I look down at my plate and notice that I’ve just been idly scratching the harder toasted bits of the bread with my thumb nail, creating a pile of crumbs on the plate.
Honestly? I’m not sure what the answer is to that question. I definitely had a few bites of cold pizza after school yesterday, right? Like I said, things haven’t been great lately.
“…why do you ask?”
“Charlie.” She’s already getting mad, and it’s 7:16 in the morning. Wonderful.
“I… I will eat lunch at school, I promise.” I mumble into my mug, not even convincing myself.
“Honey, I know you’ve been feeling a bit down about…” she trails off, as if she’s worried that actually vocalizing my pain will make it real.
“I’m fine,” I huff, getting up to refill my mug. When I get back to the table, mum’s concern has morphed into something more akin to panic. Her eyes are glued to my hand as I set my mug down on the table. It rattles against the wood a few times before settling there, my hands already starting to shake a bit from the caffeine. Shit, I probably should try to eat something today. Maybe I do need to call my therapist, just to have a check in…
“Charlie…” mum starts again. I close my eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m really not ready to listen to her chastise me yet again about not eating, even though I know it’s probably deserved this time.
Then she shocks me to my absolute core.
“I talked to dad and we think you might need… a little break… from things.” She sighs, setting her phone down on the table and shifting a bit in her seat. What the fuck?
“We know how tough it’s been for you to go this long without seeing him. What if you were to take the train up to Leeds today and spend today through Sunday there? Do you… do you think that might help with…” she trails off again, looking pointedly at the pile of crumbs on my plate.
I just gape at her, trying to comprehend what she is saying to me.
“Wait… like… you’re saying I could miss, like, three days of school…? To go visit Nick?” I must have misheard her. Or I’ve passed out from lack of sustenance and I’m dreaming. Probably that.
“Well, yes. Do you think that might help you feel better? We’re starting to worry that you’re… that you may need to… that you’ll miss more school if…” mum literally cannot finish her sentences, but it’s pretty clear what she’s thinking. She’s worried I’m going to have a mental breakdown and have to be inpatient again if I don’t get to see Nick like today. It would be funny if it wasn’t so incredibly pitiful.
I push up from the table, throwing my arms around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“OHMYGODTHANKYOUSOMUCHOHMYGOOOOOOD!!!!!” I’m squealing like a little kid and actually hopping around, but I don’t even care. I get to see Nick. I get to see Nick TODAY! I get to be with Nick for five days in a row!!!
Mum looks relieved. I guess I have been a little bit low-energy recently. I’ll have to work on that.
“I’m going to go pack!” I turn on my heel, then stop and look back at mum. “Mum? Could you make me some eggs while I do that?” I ask. I’ll even make an effort to eat them to show her how much I appreciate this and how much I’m going to try. Like, really really try.
She beams at me, hopping up and pulling an unnecessary amount of ingredients out of the fridge. “Of course, darling. I’m so pleased. Off you go! I’ll have these ready in just a couple of minutes.” She really does look pleased, joyfully pulling out an onion and a block of cheese.
I sprint up the stairs, already pulling up Nick’s contact on my phone.
“Unnngghghhh hey. ‘s everything okay?” Nick mumbles into his phone, bleary-eyed. Oh, shit. I didn’t realize it was still so early. Whatever, he’s going to be just as excited as me. I can’t wait to see his reaction!! Five whole days. He’s going to lose his shit. And me getting to see his match? He is about to freak the hell out.
That is… unless…
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just miss you so much and I needed to see your face so I could make it through this shitty day at school. I’m… I’m really struggling right now and I just needed… to see you.” With some remarkable acting skills, if I do say so myself, I make my voice sound the way it would have about fifteen minutes ago.
Nick goes from half-asleep to wide awake in the span of five seconds. It’s incredible, actually.
“Babe, are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? I miss you too… it’s only two more days now, but it feels like forever.” He looks concerned as hell. He called me babe— swoon. I love him so much.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s been really hard this week, honestly. Mum is worried about my eating again. She just gave me a talking to about it.”
Nick’s looking at me like he’s about to jump through the phone and wrap his arms around me. I wish that was a thing.
“Char…”
I cut him off, not wanting to get too far into it when it’s a moot point now.
“I’ll give Geoff a call later. I promise. I just need to take it one day at a time. Anyways, I’ve got to get going or I’m going to be late for school. Thanks so much for talking to me. Seeing you and hearing your voice always makes me feel so much better.”
He looks so concerned. Poor Nick. I make a mental note to call Geoff to schedule an appointment while I’m on the train.
“I love you,” he says. “Please… please check in with me later. Let me know how it’s going with the food thing? You know I’m going to be worried about it all day…”
“I will. I promise. I love you so much. I can’t wait until Friday.” I smile sadly, secretly bursting with joy.
“Me too,” he says, quirking one side of his mouth up in a smile that makes me want to kiss my phone.
“Bye,” I say, then end the call, already furiously shoving clothes into my duffle bag.
—-
I make it to Leeds with just enough time to store my duffel in a public locker near the pitch. I buy a ticket and find a seat near the top of the bleachers, deciding not to sit too close. I don’t want to throw Nick off his game, so I’ll watch him play and then surprise him at the end.
Of course, he’s a sight to behold. I’ve seen him play rugby a million times, but seeing him play so well on a uni team makes me swell with pride. Plus he looks fit as hell in the green Leeds jersey. Nick looks so good in green.
It almost kills me to stay in my seat and not shove everyone out of the way and go to him right there on the field, but I sit impatiently through the game, ducking down a few times when I think he might look in my direction. I pass time by taking about ten zillion photos of him.
The gaggle of girls in front of me chat loudly throughout the game, commenting on the different players, even going as far as to rate them all, 1-10.
“What about number 3? He’s pretty fit.”
“Oh my god, YESSS! I think he’s in my lit class. That man is FINE! Definitely at least an 8.”
“Okay… how about number 13?”
I perk up at this— that’s Nick’s number. I kind of wish I could tune this out, but I lean forward a tiny bit, listening intently.
“Oh my god. That’s Nick Nelson, right? He’s a fresher, but I’ve heard he’s probably going to be captain of the rugby team one day. He’s like insanely good. And obviously the hottest guy on the team.”
“Ugh, I bet he could throw me around like a rag doll,” one of the girls says, and the others giggle and continue ogling him.
“Yeah, he’s an easy 10/10. That face on that body? Ugh, so unfair. Think he’ll be at the rugby mixer tonight?”
“You should go for it!! You’d look SO good together,” one of the girls says.
“Not if I get to him first,” another says teasingly.
I bristle a little bit, then go back to scrolling through pictures of Nick on my phone. A great one of us at the beach last summer pops up, him holding me like a baby, grinning maniacally while I screech and grab onto his neck. As if he’d ever drop me.
Yep, he can throw me around like a rag doll. I smile to myself and will time to move faster.
When the game finally ends (with a Leeds victory!), I select one of the best photos I took of him today, then with shaking hands, I type out two sentences.
Charlie: You look fit as fuck in that jersey. Wanna make out?
I hit send, then wait. I’m literally trembling from head to toe, beaming like an idiot.
I watch him and his team mates happily chatting and patting each other on the back. They make their way over to the sideline where they slowly start grabbing their phones and water bottles.
The girls in front of me take their time clearing out, still drooling over the rugby lads. I wish they would move. I climb one row higher on the bleachers so I have an unobstructed view of the pitch.
I watch Nick like a hawk, almost vibrating out of my skin at this point. I think I might actually die of anticipation.
He grabs his phone and water bottle, taking a long swig and then making some comment to the guy on his left, who laughs and claps him on the back. He smiles, then grabs his phone and starts walking toward the changing rooms, in the opposite direction from where I’m sitting. SERIOUSLY, Nick?! Without even looking at it?! I start to worry that he’s truly not even going to check it when I see him stop dead in his tracks.
He stares at his phone for a few seconds, seemingly reading and rereading. Then I see him slowly turn, scanning the bleachers hesitantly, as if there’s no way. When his eyes meet mine, it feels like time stops.
My face actually hurts from smiling so hard. Nick isn’t smiling. He looks completely shocked, and then his mouth wobbles a bit and his shoulders shake as he lets out a small sob. Then he’s running, bolting over to me faster than I’ve ever seen him move.
“Oh my goood! Is he coming over here?!” one of the girls asks.
I’m not sure when I started crying, but I can feel both of our chests hitch as we clutch each other. He has his face buried in my neck, and I can feel his lips trembling against my chest. I’m on the step just above him, but that doesn’t stop him from lifting me up off my feet, his arms crushing me against his body like a vice.
I run my fingers through his hair, pulling away to plant kiss after kiss on his head, his hair, his forehead.
“Nick,” I say, and he finally pulls his head back to look at me.
“How… why… you’re here…” he says, trying to get control of his voice.
“Surprise!” I say, smiling hard enough to hurt again. I can’t help it.
His eyes cut to my dimples, then to my mouth, and back to my eyes.
“There’s a lot of people here…” I start, giving him an out in case he’s not comfortable kissing me so publicly.
In my periphery, I can see the gaggle of girls blatantly staring at us, their mouths hanging open.
Then his lips are on mine, his arms still wrapped around me, crushing me to him. I smile into it, almost unable to believe it’s really him. He moves one hand to cradle the back of my head, deepening the kiss. Okay, no out needed. He’s kissing me like we’re the only two people here. I hear a loud wolf whistle coming from the pitch, presumably one of his new friends razzing him. Nick takes one hand off me to hold up his middle finger in that general direction, then turns his full attention to kissing me again.
I beam, pulling back to look at him. He leans his forehead into mine, finally smiling back at me.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I reply, looking down at him through my lashes.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“It was my mum’s idea, actually.”
“Did she hit her head?”
I laugh, resting my hands on his shoulders and then sliding them down his arms. Jesus, he has he gotten even bigger since last time I saw him. He leans back, looking me over as if he’s evaluating for any changes since the last time we were together. Four weeks has felt like four years. When he’s convinced I haven’t lost any limbs or anything, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the locker rooms. I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be in there, but he won’t hear my protests. He’s not going to be letting go any time soon. As we pass by some teammates that I’ve met over the past couple of visits, they clap me on the back, calling out words of welcome.
“Charlie!!”
“You alright, mate?!”
“Good to see you, man!”
“Oooooh Nick’s about to have a fun night, eh lads?!”
There’s a chorus of whoops and hollers, and I have that stupid smile on my face again. Honestly, I love that I feel so welcome here. Nick’s teammates give us a hard time for being handsy in exactly the same way they do for anyone else on the team who openly shows affection for their partner. I kind of love that.
Nick makes a beeline for his locker, ignoring his mates and unceremoniously shoving his stuff into his bag, not even bothering to change out of his jersey and little rugby shorts. I’m not complaining. As he quickly switches his shoes, a tall dark haired guy who I think might be called Mark asks, “You guys going to be at the mixer tonight? You better not miss it!!”
Nick mumbles something unintelligible while throwing his bag over his shoulder, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the exit. I call out over my shoulder, “Yeah— we’ll see you guys tonight!” Mark gives me a wink, a wolfish grin on his face.
We stop to grab my bag from the locker, which Nick slings over his shoulder along with his own bag, and then we head towards Nick’s flat. After how much he just ran for the game, I’m impressed at the pace he sets, nearly jogging the whole way there. We’re clearly both eager to be alone— we barely even talk for the five or so minutes it takes to get there, which is weird for us. Nick rushes along, dead set on getting back to his place as quickly as possible. He keeps glancing at me, though, running his eyes up and down my body, lingering on my hair, my lips. When I think he’s not looking, I do the same. He’s definitely managed to put on more muscle since I’ve last seen him. I know he’s been putting in a ton of hours at the gym and at practice, but holy fuck. He catches me staring at his pecs, breaking into a big smile and then doubling down on the pace.
For whatever reason, my stomach does a little flip. Why would I be nervous? It’s just Nick. We’ve been together for three years, for fuck’s sake. For whatever reason, though, this feels new. Being apart for so long, the way his body has subtly changed in that time… the way he’s looking at me. I feel like I’m going to combust. Adrenaline is coursing through me, and it feels like my chest is going to spontaneously burst any second now.
By the time we make it to Nick’s place, I think I might actually be dying. He fumbles for his keys, wrenching the door open and dragging me inside. He pulls me past the kitchen and common area to his room, where he drops our bags next to the bed while I shut the door behind me, shamelessly turning the lock.
For a moment, we just stare at each other from across the room. It doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent an entire month wishing I was with Nick, and it’s finally here and I’m completely overwhelmed.
He walks over to me slowly, tentatively, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. I close the rest of the distance between us, and when I feel his hand brush against mine, I swear I can feel sparks shoot all the way up my arm, burying themselves in my belly where they continue to pop and fizz.
“Do you want to get ready for the team mixer?” I ask casually, desperately hoping he has zero interest in the mixer right now. “You played so well. I have like a few hundred thousand photos of the match. It’s still completely surreal that you’re playing for…”
He cuts me off mid sentence, pressing his lips softly against mine. He slides his arms around me, grabbing my hips and walking me backwards until I’m pressed up against his bedroom door.
My world narrows to his lips on mine. The kiss is soft at first, sweet and loving, reverent. He moves one hand up to cradle my face, softly running his thumb along my cheek. I wrap my arms around his back, fisting his jersey in my hands as I kiss him, trying to pour a month’s worth of emotion into it. I need him to know how much I love him, how much of an absolute mess I am without him. A groan slips out of me, somehow sounding simultaneously content and desperate.
He chuckles as he pulls away, and I grasp him tighter, trying to get his body closer to mine. He shakes his head back and forth, stroking soothing lines up and down my back.
“I need to hop in the shower, Char. Rugby match, remember? I’ll be really quick, promise.”
I grasp him tighter, burying my head in his neck and inhaling the scent of him. “No. I’m not letting you go. You can’t make me.” I wrap one of my legs around the back of his to make my point, and he barks out a laugh. He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms firmly around me. I should have anticipated his next move. He hefts me up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It seems unnervingly effortless for him.
I let out a little screech of indignation while he laughs good-naturedly, carrying me to the tiny attached bathroom and turning on the water.
The shower stall is absurdly small. I wonder to myself if Nick even really fits in that thing, then sulk internally when I realize there’s no chance we’re both going to fit. He kicks the lid of the toilet down with one foot and then slowly lowers me, my body dragging against his as he sets me down on it.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll be right here, and I’ll be super quick.”
“Fine,” I say in a mock-pout. “But I’m staying here for the show.” I glance up at him, a coy smile on my face.
“Good,” he says, as he grabs the bottom of his jersey and slowly pulls it up over his head. He drops the shirt on the floor and looks back down at me. I’m just unabashedly staring at the absolute god that is Nick Nelson. Holy fucking fuck. I can tell my eyes are glazed and I’m probably actually drooling, but there’s just nothing I can do about it now. I let out a little laugh, still unable to believe he’s mine even after all this time.
“What?” he asks, a knowing look on his face. He is well aware of why I’m looking at him like a starving man looks at an all you can eat buffet. He owns a mirror.
I don’t even look at him when I respond. I’m too busy running my eyes along the ridged lines of his abdomen. I reach out a hand and trace one of those lines, raising goosebumps on his skin. “Stop getting hotter every time I see you. It’s hurting my feelings.”
He laughs in earnest again. “You’re so funny,” he says, as if I’m joking. I’m not.
He tucks his finger under my chin and tilts my head up, kissing me slowly, lazily. I reach one hand up to skim it along the smooth panes of his side, the ridges of his stomach. I feel the soft brush of his tongue just before he pulls away again, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pulling them off in one swift motion. One side of his mouth quirks up again, and then he quickly spins away and steps into the shower, leaving me feeling dizzy and completely flustered.
I take a few steadying deep breaths so I don’t fully pass out on his bathroom floor. With the steam from the shower fogging the glass, all I can see is a blurry outline, but it’s the most glorious blur I’ve seen in my life.
“Wait, is she letting you stay like… until Sunday??” Nick suddenly exclaims as he works shampoo through his hair. I see his head pop around the side of the glass to get a clear view of me. I giggle at the little pile of bubbles on top of his head.
“Yeah!!” I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. It might be permanently stuck there now.
“Oh my god!!” he yells, dipping his head back into the stream. “I can’t believe it. That’s like four more days together!” It’s really fun watching him have the same realizations I got to have this morning. He squirts soap onto a washcloth, filling the room with the smell of his body wash. The scent is incredibly comforting, and I feel myself relax a little bit as he runs the cloth over his body, scrubbing off the sweat and dirt from today’s match. I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object.
He quickly rinses himself, then turns the water off, reaching around the glass to grab a towel. He runs it over his hair and dries his body off before wrapping the towel low around his hips. He smiles at me, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. “I’m so excited! I’m so glad you’re here. I have been thinking about you all day. I could barely concentrate at the match... You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah…” I say, even though I do have an idea. There’s no way he’s missed me the way I’ve missed him. It feels very surreal that he’s actually right in front of me… in a towel. He steps out of the tiny shower stall and I swallow hard.
I can feel my anxiety creeping up, starting to wrap its claws around me again. I have to touch him. If I’m not holding him, it feels like he might be gone again. I need to be closer to him, right the fuck now.
I stand up and crush myself to him, reveling in the familiar scent of his body soap, the comforting tickle of his chest hair against my cheek. I place my hands on either side of his face, pulling him into another kiss... except this time, there’s nothing soft and sweet about it. I allow the last month of missing him, the weeks of absolute desperation, come crushing down on me. My hands twine through his hair, gently tugging the wet strands, using them as leverage to get closer to him. I feel his fingers grasping at the bottom of my shirt, and he hitches it up my torso, not even trying to take it off, just desperately trying to find more places our skin can connect. I wrench the shirt up over my head and let it fall, landing in a pile on top of his.
He grabs my hips and spins me around, pressing the bare skin of his chest and belly against my back. It feels so incredible, so completely right. Nick feels like home.
He wraps both arms around me, hands roaming along my torso as he presses kisses to my back and shoulder. I arch my neck, leaning back against him to give him better access. I watch in the bathroom mirror, completely transfixed, as he kisses and licks the sensitive skin under my ear and along my neck. When he starts gently sucking the skin there, I think I lose my mind entirely. I hear a moan escape from my mouth at the same time that my hips jerk forward, then backwards against him, desperate to be closer, to feel more of him.
He grabs at the button on my jeans, slowly unclasping it and working the zipper down. I’m not making this process any easier, but I can’t seem to control my hips, which keep rolling back and forth against him, making his breath come faster against my neck. I close my eyes, letting the intensity of the sensation take over. I feel him grab my waistband and pull my jeans and boxers down my legs. I kick out of them while Nick drags a hand across my belly, along my chest and neck, and then up along my jaw, turning my head toward his to he can fit our mouths together again.
When I feel his tongue against mine, I groan, turning around to face him. I desperately grab at his towel, the last bit of fabric between us, and I pull it away, letting it drop onto the pile of our clothes on the floor.
He inhales sharply when I press the full length of my body against his, the feeling so intense that I have to stop kissing him for a moment. He can’t seem to move his mouth either, too caught up in the sensation of our bodies connecting after so long, so we just stand there, mouths open, our lips just barely touching. This is what I’ve been craving, what I need— to have absolutely nothing in between us. We stand there for a moment, gasping for air, seeming to almost breathe each other in.
“Come on,” he whispers to me, pushing off the wall but still keeping our bodies connected. I wrap my arms around his neck, stepping backward as he guides us forward, trusting him to walk us to the bed (or the floor or the desk or wherever we end up). He kisses me senseless, making it extremely hard to focus on moving my feet. Suddenly, he has his hands wrapped around my thighs, and he’s lifting me up onto the bed like I am completely weightless.
I land on my back, him on top of me. He braces his weight on his knees and forearms— he’s always extremely careful with me. He looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the entire world, then smooths a curl on my forehead.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, and for whatever reason, I can tell he really means it. He looks at me with the same stupid, doughy expression I have when I look at him. He runs one hand down the full length of my body, and my skin burns and fizzles along the trail his hand leaves behind.
“How much time do we have before the…” I start.
“Fuck the mixer. I have plans,” he growls. I smile, burying my hands in his hair as he kisses my shoulder, then trails kisses down the length of my body, following the same path his hand just traced. When he gets to the crease where my leg meets my hip, I grab his head and pull it back up to mine. I press my lips against his, then shift my hips and push at his shoulders, trying to roll him over. I’m not strong enough to actually move him, but he realizes what I’m doing and immediately flips over, leaning back against his pillows, his gorgeous, long legs stretched out.
Then I’m kissing him again, climbing onto his lap and crushing our bodies together. He groans as he feels my length press against his. We’re both desperate for more friction, to get closer, but I don’t want this to end, not yet. Slowly, gently, I pull my hips back, dragging myself against him, then rocking forward.
“Fuck, Charlie,” he exhales against my mouth.
I continue with this painfully slow pace as I bring my mouth to his neck, skimming my lips slowly along his skin in time with my hips. I take his ear lobe between my teeth, gently nipping and sucking. He whimpers, digging the tips of his fingers into the flesh of my thighs, my ass. I continue licking and sucking every inch of skin I can reach, satisfied when I see little red marks blooming in the places I’ve paid the most attention. That’ll give his teammates some real ammunition. This has absolutely nothing to do with marking my territory so those girls from the pitch know he’s mine... nothing at all.
“Charlie…” he pants again, his voice edged with urgency this time.
I bring my mouth back to his, failing to keep the kisses slow and sensual. I sense both of us growing more frantic. He licks into my mouth, and my core completely melts as his tongue slides against mine.
He reaches down between us, taking both of us in his hand. I writhe at the feel, the pressure of his hand gripping me, rubbing me against his own erection. We’re both painfully hard at this point, and I buck up into his grip. He runs his thumb over my tip, and I’m mesmerized by how fucking hot my precum looks as he smooths it along his own length, the added slickness making us slide against each other in a way that nearly brings me to the edge.
Wow, I really needed to get laid. I’m so embarrassing.
He leans over and opens the drawer in his bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube with a giant goofy smile on his face.
“What?” I ask, recognizing that face. I wonder what joke he’s just made in his head.
“I hope you’re ready for the best thirty seconds of your life,” he laughs, and I can’t help but laugh right along with him.
“Oh god, same,” I say. “I was literally just thinking that. It’s cool, though. This is just a warmup round, anyway. We have four whole days.” He kisses me, a smile still on his face, and I shake my head at how easy it is for us to be together, to joke, to laugh. I’m so in love with him it hurts.
He braces me with one arm and pushes himself up onto his knees, lying me gently on my back. I let my knees fall open to each side of him as I run my hands up and down his thighs. I feel so comfortable with him, so incredibly safe. He softly kisses one knee, then the other, then trails his hands down my legs, and finally reaches between them. As usual, he’s endlessly patient, despite his own pressing needs, easing me into the sensation rather than forcing anything.
He pulls his hand away for a moment, then I feel his fingers pressing against me, slick this time. He circles his fingers slowly, then pushes one finger inside of me. I bite down hard to stay quiet, knowing his flatmates are probably home by now. He works his finger slowly in and out, and though it feels incredible, I already know I’m not going to be patient enough for this. Nick always wants to take his time with me, making sure I’m comfortable. And usually I’m fine with taking our time, but I’ve had enough waiting. My desperation for him has started to take on a very sharp edge.
“Nick…” I say, but I can’t bring myself to actually voice what I want. It feels way too pathetic to say, out loud, that I need to feel him inside me right this second or I’m going to actually lose it.
He immediately slows his hand, assuming he’s going too fast, not too slow. I hear a near feral sound come out of my mouth, and then I’m grabbing his shoulders, pulling him down on top of me. I reach down and wrap one hand around him, guiding him forward as I push his hips towards me with my legs.
“Whoa! Charlie—hang on! I don’t want to hurt you!” He is the sweetest human in the entire world. I push him harder with my legs, feeling him pressing against me now.
“No. Now, Nick. Please… please.” I bury my head in his shoulder again. “Please.” I’m one hundred percent sure I’ve never begged him like this before. I’m a pitiful mess and I don’t even care.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me with so much love and tenderness, I feel tears prick my eyes. Then he pushes forward, and I feel a sharp burn and stretch until he pushes far enough into me, followed quickly by relief and the incredible sensation of fullness I’ve missed so much.
“You okay?”
“Mmm,” I reply, nodding my head and pushing my hips up to show him I want more. I still can’t seem to form coherent words, but I cling to him, meeting each soft roll of his hips, encouraging him to move faster, harder.
He adjusts our position slightly, pulling one of my legs up for a deeper angle, and I see stars. I would probably be embarrassed by the soft keening sounds that are coming out of me against my will, but I’m not sure I’m entirely conscious anymore. I’m just a nameless whirlwind of sensation and emotion. He covers my lips with his, whispering, “shhh” against my mouth.
“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to gain control of myself and failing miserably.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers, then kisses me until I can’t remember my own name.
To his credit, he lasts way longer than thirty seconds. Me, on the other hand? I’m so wound up that I can feel the pressure building as soon as he starts moving in earnest.
He watches me come undone underneath him, eyes glazing a bit as my release shoots up across my stomach and chest. He leans down, licking a bit of cum off my chest, lingering there for a while with his tongue, licking and sucking one nipple, then the other. I swear I watch this from above, because there’s no way I’m not having an out of body experience right now. Holy fuck is he hot. Holy FUCK.
He adjusts our hips again, getting into a position that makes it easier for him to drive into me more quickly, then he doubles down, moving his hips fast and hard. In this moment, I feel like I could die happy, having gotten everything I truly wanted out of life. I watch Nick slam himself in and out of me, the muscles of his stomach and legs all contracting. He’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. His mouth falls open slightly, and I can tell he’s getting close because he can’t seem to look away from where our bodies join. He braces one hand on my hip, using it to pull me towards him as he pushes himself into me, snapping his hips forward again and again. I hear his breath hitch, and I snap my eyes shut so I can focus entirely on the incredible feeling of him finishing inside me, each wave pulsing like lightning through every nerve in my body.
He exhales shakily, and then collapses onto me, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck. We lay there for a while, waiting for our breathing to slow and for our souls to come back into our bodies.
I might have fallen asleep for a bit, but when I finally wake up, I exhale, kissing the top of his head. We really do need to get up. “Nick? I’m gonna hop in the shower. I can’t exactly go to the bar all covered in…” I try to wriggle out from under him, but he clamps his arms down around me.
“Like hell you are.”
“Niiiiick! I told your friend— uh, Mark is it?— that we’d be meeting everyone there! We have to go! I love you… and after tonight I might even love your body more than I love you.” He playfully jabs me in the ribs. “That being said, you know I didn’t come here just for sex. I need to experience your life here. I want to meet your friends. I want to figure out what it is exactly that rugby lads even do at the bar. Do you dance? I need to see you awkwardly dancing with the rugby lads.” This time, Nick gives me a good shove, but I lose my balance and topple right off the side of the bed, but not before I grab hold of his arm and pull him down with me. He squawks loudly, taken off guard, and before we know it, we’re both laughing so hard our sides hurt.
“Ugh, fine! But I am not to be held liable if I end up dragging you into one of the dirty bathroom stalls to have my way with you again,” he warns.
I roll my eyes. “If you just can’t resist my incredible beauty anymore, give me like a five minute warning and I’ll bring you home instead, mmkay?”
“You think I’m joking. You just watch. Dirty bathroom stall, Charlie. Dirty bathroom stall.” He kisses my nose. “And stop talking about your appearance sarcastically. You’re literally the hottest person I’ve ever seen. Like ever.” He proceeds to kiss each of my dimples, then my lips. He pulls me close again, his hand tangling in the curls at the base of my neck.
“Mmmmnoooo!” I groan, pushing him away with Herculean effort. “Stop that! I know your dirty little tricks!” I clap my hand over my eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “If I can’t see you, I won’t be tempted to kiss you.” I manage to disentangle myself from him, then I stand up and immediately trip on our shoes, which we must have kicked off and left in the middle of the floor at some point. I hear him laugh and shoot a look back at him, narrowing my eyes. He’s smiling, head cocked to the side, stark naked and leaning against the side of his bed. His hair is a wreck. He’s what I imagine angels must look like. I grab my phone from his desk and snap a photo of him before he can protest, then I escape to the bathroom before I change my mind about going tonight.