Work Text:
“I think you’re being tremendously stupid,” Charlie says as we walk through the park. Peanut is at his side and Teddy is at mine. Teddy’s service vest has been adorned with new patches, gifted by Chloe and sewn on by myself. Charlie looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, watching with minor disapproval as I shrug my shoulders dismissively, trying to ignore his stare.
I know he’s right. He’s nearly always right. Not that I’m complaining or not. It’s nice to have someone who is good at identifying when I need to take a step back and look at the whole picture rather than just the details. I just wish that sometimes he was wrong and that I wasn’t being ‘stupidly pigheaded’. It’s my life, after all. If I want to live it in a dead-end job at a gas station, working with as little effort as I can manage while retaining said job, and spend the rest of my time either with Charlie or rotting in our now shared apartment, then that should be my own damn choice. He’s the one who wants me to ‘explore my options’ and ‘apply myself’. Ridiculous. There wasn’t anything to apply. I’d cruised my way through life on a manipulative power, lost said power, and then gained it back in a moment of pure terror and danger. I hadn’t trusted myself to purposefully use it and it had been months since it had come back.
“What would I go to school for, Charlie? I don’t know if you recall, but I didn’t finish high school and before you even suggest a GED, I doubt I’d pass,” I say quickly, cutting off his suggestion before he could say it. It’s sweet that he thinks I could, but I dropped out of school in the 10th grade. I hadn’t applied myself since elementary school. “I know I’m smart, please don’t say that. I just... There’s no use trying. That’s all.”
Charlie presses his lips into a thin line, and I feel a wave of guilt wash over me. He’s not an empath but damn if he can’t influence my feelings like one. I know what he’s saying without saying it. I’m being self-deprecating and everyone including myself has agreed I need to stop doing that. Admittedly I have been trying to, though old habits are hard to break. Charlie can’t always be the one to pick up my broken pieces. I need to do that for myself some days. And, according to my therapist, I can start by not being a mopey and self-loathing prick.
Some of those words are my own.
“Look, maybe I’ll bring it up in therapy, okay? I just...” I pause, frowning as I think of the right words. Words that won’t sound hateful towards myself. Words that might soothe Charlie’s worries that I’m going to succeed at offing myself one day. “I just don’t see the potential in me that you do. And, yeah, I’m supposed to be working on that, I know. And I love you for holding me accountable to that goal—oh don’t look so smug, jackass.”
A grin has spread across Charlie’s face, and I playfully shove his shoulder, making him stumble a little and a laugh erupt from him. Music to my ears.
“Well, Teddy doesn’t manage that and he’s your service--” he sighs as I toss a not-so-gentle glare his way. “Your companion. Better? He’s meant to be a friend and keep you, y’know, happy and all that.”
I don’t like admitting that Teddy’s a service dog. It makes me feel... I dunno. Weak? I prefer saying emotional support, but with the way that term has been twisted and abused, I can’t always. He’d been given to me through the AM after Charlie had encouraged me to seek out their services. The second I’d shown up in Doctor B’s and Sam’s office, they’d reluctantly agreed to help me. An attempt at an apology for the captivity and experimentation on me. Even if it had been done under old management. Charlie had been on standby if they hadn’t agreed to doing anything to help.
“He’s for DPT and emotional support,” I correct Charlie. And to sense when I’m overloaded. According to Sam, Teddy has also been trained to recognize if I’m unintentionally using my ability. I don’t know how he does it, but it helps that it doesn’t work on animals. Even as broken and uncontrollable as it is, I know Teddy’s actions are his and his alone. Really, he’s been an invaluable asset. He’s helped me through some depressive periods and with my PTSD.
Both from the AM and from Mark, though they weren’t aware of that part. I still didn’t know how to tell Sam, and there was no way in hell I was ready to break that news to Doctor B. The mere thought of doing so was enough to have me anxious.
My fingers curl tightly around the leash, biting into the fabric instead of my palm like I want it to. As if on cue, Teddy noses at my calf, snuffling my jeans as he ascertains me. I take a deep breath as he nudges my calf once more. I’m fine, I tell myself. There’s nothing Teddy needs to do. I don’t need to sit like he’s insisting I do with a harder press of his snout against me. I can feel Charlie staring at me; I know he sees what Teddy’s doing. But I’m not going to obey. I don’t want to ruin our walk with a fucking freak out. Charlie’s used to it and I hate it. I hate feeling like I’m ruining our time together by being this fucking broken.
“Yeah, well, when I say it you get all pissy,” Charlie says pointedly before hurrying on so I can’t interrupt him or argue back. “Anyways, you have Teddy. You could do all the work to get a GED. They have the classes and… I dunno. I can see you working at—okay, don’t get mad?—but I can see you helping out at the AM.”
Deep breaths. In and out, in and out. I hate talking about the AM with Charlie. It’s just such a fucking sore spot for both of us for similar but different reasons. I don’t necessarily fault him for working for such a terrible organization, but I’m not exactly fond of the thought that he was apparently cool with working for them when he saw what was happening to Atypicals. When he saw the extent of the experimentation and did nothing to stop them or just quit.
“Doing what?” I reply tightly, holding back any emotion. I want him to stop this discussion so much, but that would just be prolonging the inevitable. He’d just bring it up again in a few months, and then it would turn into a big fight.
Charlie opens his mouth a few times and then looks down at Peanut who was snuffling at the flowers we were passing by. Her tail swishes behind her, brushing against Charlie’s leg and occasionally bumping into Teddy’s. Perhaps he hadn’t thought as far into this as he’d implied.
We’re exiting the park when he finally seems to decide what to say.
“I think you’d do good with helping rehabilitate Atypicals. Like, ones that would have been considered Class E under Wadsworth’s management,” Charlie says finally, quietly. The park is empty, but you never know who’s listening. Government workers. People who aren’t freaks. People keeping tabs on me. “I mean, you’re, y’know, you’re you. There’s no one out there who has an ability like you do. I think Class E’s are, well, basically the same way. Maybe not as in ‘only one in the world’, but like ‘super, overpowered, one of a kind in this type of ability’ way.”
I grit my teeth.
Don’t fuck this up. He’s just trying to help. Just being the same sweet and encouraging boyfriend he thinks you deserve. He’s supportive and loves you and wants what’s best for you. Don’t snap at him. He doesn’t deserve that.
“Right. Work for the sister and the wife of the man who abused the shit out of me and didn’t want to let me go,” I reply shortly, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Brilliant suggestion, Charlie.”
Charlie huffs. Sure, he’s used to me being short and gruff, especially and understandably when Mark comes up, but it’s rare that I snark back at him in anything other than jest.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and grumble under my breath. I’m extremely grateful that we’ll be back at our apartment soon so then we can each busy ourselves with something and let the conversation fall to the wayside.
“Okay, sorry. That was… uncalled for. Can we just, look, can we just drop this? We’re just going to go in circles and fight,” I ask, gathering up all my energy and hold back my Want. He’ll know and then he’ll be upset. “I just don’t know what you want out of me. Do you want me to bring it up in therapy? Agree with you and get into a bunch of classes I hate and a job that makes me want to kill myself?”
“Doesn’t the gas station already do that?” Charlie tries to joke, and I smile grimly. “That’s what I thought. So, why not actually get a job that you get paid more and can maybe stop someone from becoming Damien 2.0.”
I should get mad at that. I should but I don’t. I’ve brought it up in therapy before. If there’s someone like me out there, isolated by their ability and unable to relate to someone, I know exactly what the desperation to find someone like them would do. Now, would they go so far as to kidnap someone, beat someone over the head with a lamp, and then grovel pitifully for forgiveness? Probably not, but the only way to stop something like that from happening would be to talk to someone who had been through it all.
“I don’t want to be a therapist, Charlie,” I say in exasperation. So, no, we were still going to have this discussion. “I’m fucked up enough, I don’t need someone else’s problems.”
It’s rude to say it like that but it’s true. Who would want me for a therapist anyways?
“Right, okay. So, don’t be a therapist. Be a… God, what’s the word…” Charlie snaps his fingers a couple times as he thinks, “Accountability buddy, maybe? Be something like that for them. Be someone who they can lean on when things get rough. Not a friend, maybe, but let them know you can relate to them. You know what it’s like.”
The idea is, and I hate to admit it, good. It's something Kristie has floated to me before. Community outreach, basically. Now that Class E had been done away with, rehabilitation efforts had been underway. As a former Class E, it was suggested that I'd be a perfect candidate on an example of someone who could function in the world without issue and with control. I just didn't see it as a viable one. I was an outlier. The only reason I was able to exist was because my ability had been broken and then pieced together again. It wasn't like I was able to really use my ability to the extent I had been before. I was functionally a mess past anything else that was more than influencing someone to come near or give me something. I couldn't push someone into giving me their car or their house now. Just something simple, like a book or a free coffee. I doubt that's what they want to use as someone for the former Class E's to model themselves after. There was nothing I could really pass on as knowledge or tips for everyday life. The mere thought of being a role model or someone to go to for advice has my heart racing and I hate it. I hate that I can't seem to function as a normal person and yet everyone thinks I am.
I step to the side to let a jogger go by and Teddy takes the opportunity to nose me closer to a garden wall. I close eyes and then reluctantly allow him to do what he's been trained to do. I sink down onto the ground and he clambers into my lap, resting his head against my stomach and putting his full weight on me. Great. Another freak out, another walk ruined. All because I am so fucking messed up that even the idea of doing something with my life can send me into a panic. I've never planned anything for my life. Everything had just happened and there wasn't anything that needed to be thought out or examined.
Charlie steps against the wall as well and crouches down, resting his free hand on my shoulder. Peanut wags her tail happily and settles next to me, her head resting on my hip. She's picked up on some of Teddy's cues and likes to copy her little brother.
"I know I should try. I just don't think there's anyone who could look up to me. Or should. You know what I've done. And I'm trying to forgive myself. Kristie's given me exercises and medications and everything that I could possibly use. But I've... Between Neon and Isaiah, and then everything with Doctor B? Do you know how hard that is to forgive?" I ask tightly, my fingers finding Teddy's ear where I rub at the soft fur slowly. I'm trying to even out my breathing so I don't hyperventilate. So I don't make more of a fool of myself than I already am.
Still, I know that he knows what it's like. No one escapes the AM unscathed, after all.
"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. I know. I'm sorry, you know that. Everything you've went through. And I know how hard it is. Do you think I like forgiving myself for my complacency with the AM? For what I did to help them?" he asks quietly and I shake my head no. "You know as well as I do that I had to, though. I can't dwell on the bad parts of my life or I'll spoil the good parts I have to look forward to."
I lean my head back and it thumps against the hard stone brick of the garden wall. I've envisioned good things in the future. Things like Charlie and I getting old together. Maybe getting married. Traveling together. As long as I'm with him, I can see myself as being happy and content with life. But I know I can't rely on just him for happiness. That would drain him. It would be unfair. He has a life outside of me and our relationship. I can't smother him. Even if I want to. Even if I want so badly to be the singular point of his attention and love.
So, yeah, none of my future plans involve just me or other people or things. And I need to fix that. I need to talk to Kristie about it and figure out a game plan. I already know what she'd say, anyways: Charlie won't always be here. Life is unpredictable. He could die suddenly or break up with me. We could get old and then he'd pass before me. I'd be alone again, no matter what tore us apart.
"I'm being self-centered again, aren't I?" I ask with a weak laugh. We both know the answer. After a second I gently nudge Teddy who looks up at me and then stands up once he senses that I am, indeed, feeling better and not nearly as stressed as I had been. Charlie stands up and then offers me his hand to pull me up as well. "Sorry. I know I'm a lot to handle. I'll talk about it at my next session, okay? You're right, anyways."
"Am I ever wrong?" Charlie asks with a teasing grin. He brings one hand up and cups the back of my head so he can pull me in and press a kiss to my forehead. "You got this. I know you do."
We breathe a sigh of relief as the storm of my emotions passes. Our trek back home is thankfully calmer. We make idle chitchat about our weekend plans. He mentions that Chloe is in town once again with Frank in tow and suggests we all four hang out.
I unlock the door to the apartment and unclip Teddy's leash from his vest and let him inside while Charlie does the same with Peanut. The two dogs hurry inside where Peanut darts to her water bowl and Teddy waits patiently in the entryway for me to take his vest off. He's been a good addition to our little family. Charlie thought it when I'd finally had been approved through the AM for a dog, even if I'd been reluctant from the start. I toss the keys into the little dish on the counter and then sink down onto the living room floor. Charlie's niece had called it floor time when we had babysat her a month previous and damn if it didn't feel good to just lay on the carpet and do nothing. It was a good way to regulate after the stress of our walk.
My eyes close and I lay there, quiet and at ease. I don't know how long I lay there, barely shifting when Teddy settles next to me and rests his dumb head on my chest. The only thing that moves is my hand as I rest it on his back. Charlie's foot gently nudging my side is what brings me back to the present, and I crack one eye open to look up at him. The afternoon sun has set into a pleasant evening sunset.
"Nn?" I mumble, sitting up a little so Teddy has time to shift away and sleepily grumble as he settled on the floor.
"Chloe's coming over. Frank's staying with an old army buddy, so it's just her swinging by. She wanted to know if you were up to hanging out. I... might have let slip about earlier," Charlie explains sheepishly. He knows that, even if I've been relatively open about my mental health with Chloe, I'm still uncomfortable with having it aired out for others to know. "She understands if the answer is no, by the way. So, don't feel forced."
I sigh and roll onto my side, looking at the time on the little clock Charlie had set up on the tv stand. Early in the evening, so we'd likely be having dinner. Maybe a movie. I consider how I'm feeling, not wanting to overextend myself this late when I have an opening shift the next day, but I relent after a moment. Chloe's been traveling again so it's nice to see her. She's about the only friend I have outside of Charlie's buddies, and even then they really just regard me as Charlie's boyfriend. It's something I need, I think, and who knows when she's going to head out again?
"Pizza and shitty Netflix," I say with a yawn. Maybe I'd fallen asleep. "Seems like a decent way to spend the night. When's she gonna stop by?"
Charlie's sheepish look furthers and he clears his throat awkwardly. "She's, uhm, she's downstairs? I didn't want to buzz her in if you weren't feeling up to it."
I know it's not Charlie's doing. I know that she likely was already on her way when one of them called the other. There's nothing about this situation that could be changed, I remind myself. Things are sometimes just out of your control and that's life. That's how it is. You can't control anyone else but yourself. Every word is repeated nearly verbatim from Kristie. Every word nearly the exact mantra she's instilled in me. Much like Doctor B. had instilled the fact that my ability was not mind control. Even still, though, I feel the little stab of annoyance that I didn't control this situation. If she was already here, I'd feel guilt sending her away and I'd feel exhaustion at the lack of time to prepare. And after this afternoon, I feel I owe Charlie some time to hang out with someone, well, not me.
With another soft grumble, I sit up fully and rake my fingers through my hair, idly noting that it's getting too long and I need a haircut. Things happen and sometimes they'll make me uncomfortable. That's okay. That's life.
"Yeah, sure. Let her up. I'm, uh, I'm gonna get changed though, okay? I don't really feel like looking presentable."
I stand up after a second and Teddy opens one eye to watch me before he lets out one of those long dog sighs and settles back into his light slumber. One of the only good things the AM has really done for me is Teddy which makes my stomach curdle every time I think about it. With all the AM did to me and other Atypicals, it's almost a slap in the fact that they're doing these kinds of things for us as attempts at apologies. I know there are other Atypicals who were Class E's that endured worse. Years of imprisonment and years of torture and experimentation. Isolation causing loss of any sort of semblance of sanity. I got off lucky and I know that. I know that I'm one of their lighter cases to amend. And I'm grateful that I have Teddy. I'll always be grateful for the dog. He makes me feel normal most days. He makes me function and I know that I've gotten better since he entered my life.
Even still, there are days I have difficulty accepting I need him. I have difficulty knowing that the only reason I have him is the AM.
I take a few extra minutes after changing into my sleep pants and a well worn t-shirt to gather myself and mentally move about my energy for the upcoming work week. I can manage a few extra hours of socialization today. I can. People deal with this every day of their life. Things aren't in my control.
"--doing better. You know just how hard fixing yourself up is. Anyways, cheese, pepperoni? What do you want on yours?" Charlie is saying as I return to the living room. Chloe's perched on our countertop, her legs kicking a little and occasionally banging against the cupboard below. Some part of me wonders if the topic changes because I came out. Sometimes I appreciate it, other times I don't. I know he updates everyone on how I'm doing. And I know he does it in good faith. Today, though, after this afternoon's little freak out, it makes me grit my teeth in annoyance, but I say nothing.
I pull myself up onto the countertop as well, leaning over to see where Charlie's placing an order to. Distract myself. I know they're just trying to help and that's important. I have to let people help me, and I have to return the favor.
"Hey Damien! I won't keep you up too late, don't worry. Frank and I have a few things planned tomorrow, so I want to get some sleep as well," Chloe says after she's leant in to peck me on the cheek in greeting. I've gotten used to her gentleness. If it weren't for the fact that I know she has a partner, I'd think she was flirting with me. She's described me as a platonic boyfriend as a joke, but some days I wonder if subconsciously she thinks it. "But I'm only in town for a few days and then I'm back on the road. So, I figured I'd say hey."
"Mm. It's okay. I don't mind," I lie and I know it's obvious. I can't bring myself to care. No one calls me out anyways. I don't offer my choice for toppings. I'll eat anything. Food is just sustenance and that's a stance I don't think I'll ever change. "Besides, it's good to see you."
That's not a lie. I like when Chloe's in town. I like seeing her.
Chloe snatches the phone from Charlie and starts putting in her order, chattering about the most recent trip where she'd gone up to Canada and visited a few Atypicals there who were also Mind Readers. I pay only a little bit of attention. It's nice having someone else fill the air with talk. Takes the pressure off of me. Charlie rests his hand on my knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It says 'you can end this whenever you want' even though we both know that I won't. I'm doing this for Charlie.
"What movie do you want to watch?" Charlie asks when we've settled in the living room, two pizzas set on the center table. I'm sitting on the floor, legs crossed and body leaning against Charlie's legs. Chloe's taken my spot on the sofa, knees pulled up to her chest and remote in hand while we scroll through various streaming services. "Pleeeease nothing horror. I still have nightmares from last time we had a movie night."
I huff a guilty laugh and Charlie playfully flicks the back of my head. I'm relaxing and he knows it. "Oh, c'mon. It wasn't that bad. You just didn't like the frogs," I say and feel his body shudder at the mention.
"You and your b horror movies," Charlie mutters without malice, making me laugh again.
"No, god no. Damien, you do not get to pick this time," Chloe agrees as she pulls up Amazon and scrolls through our library, a tad judgmental at the amount of documentaries we own. Charlie likes them and it's rubbed off on me. "You guys need to get lives. Really? I've been scrolling for a solid minute and all I see is educational movies."
We settle on some shitty action movie. The night goes about as well as it can with me as drained as I am. Peanut begs for the crusts and Chloe tosses them to the coonhound who eats them gratefully. We'd hoped that with Teddy, she'd break the habit of begging for food but it hasn't happened. To keep things fair, I end up getting up and grabbing Teddy a couple treats. Charlie shifts on the sofa so there's room for me to squeeze in, cuddled up at his side, and after a moment I do. PDA, even around someone who's well used to ours, is awkward. It makes me feel like I'm being judged, even though I know I'm not.
Charlie drags his fingers slowly, back and forth, along my shoulders, his mind drifting away from the movie. Chloe bristles next to us and then I see her out of the corner of my eye shake her head lightly. Curiosity gets the better of me and I lightly extend my Ability, feeling out Charlie's mind. I'm just looking, I remind myself. I'm not pulling the strings. I'm just seeing what he wants, feeling it out, seeing what he's wanting that Chloe read in his mind, but I find nothing that's particularly of interest. He's tampered it down, apparently also noticing Chloe's reaction. Or because he knew what I was going to do. He's gotten good at suppressing his Wants incase I intentionally or accidentally poke inside. I try not to, of course, but every once in a while I push in and see. It's a point of contention between us, and we've agreed that I can't influence him to do what I want. Not intentionally, at least. But I do have to work on my control. So long as he knows I've been practicing, he doesn't get mad.
"Sorry," Charlie says with genuine apology and I wonder again what the hell Chloe had heard in his thoughts. What had Charlie embarrassed?
"It's fine. Nothing I haven't heard before," Chloe replies and they leave it at that.
My brow crinkles but I let the matter drop. I'm sure Charlie will tell me later and that's fine with me. His fingers still on my shoulder and he settles on wrapping his arm around me instead.
Slowly, my eyes drift shut and then I'm dozing quietly. The movie hadn't been holding my attention--I'm not that big into action movies and there's very little in the plot that I find interesting--and neither of them will mind. Chloe's fallen asleep while we had on a documentary so it's nothing that can reasonably be judged without hypocrisy. The credits are rolling when Charlie unintentionally jostles me as he pulls away. Chloe's pulling on her coat, shoes already on. Peanut and Teddy are at her feet, tails thumping in unison, trying to garner attention from her, and after she's finally done up her jacket, she's bent down and petting their heads.
"Every time I see these guys, I think that maybe I should get a dog," Chloe says with a laugh as Teddy licks her hand, cleaning it of pizza grease. I shouldn't, but I allow it. It's not going to hurt him, and he gets plenty of exercise. His training is also constantly reinforced, so it's not like one instance is going to ruin everything. "But it's not fair to keep them cooped up in a van. Ah well. Thanks for having me, you guys!"
We clean up the pizza and fill the dog bowls, setting about to our evening chores and routine. I can feel Charlie's eyes on me every so often, and it slowly dawns on me just what Chloe had probably read in his mind. My face flushes and I distract myself with doing the dishes. It's not that I don't want to or that I do want to. It just always makes me nervous when I remember that Charlie physically wants me. That he desires me, finds me attractive, and wants to make me feel good. There's no expectations, there's nothing that says I have to comply or he'll get pissed. There's just love and respect.
The damn cuddly bastard sidles up behind me, his hands resting on my hips and his lips against the nape of my neck. I can feel the subtle curve of a smile against my skin as he noses along until his lips are against the side of my throat, brushing against my earlobe. I let out a slow breath, feeling my heart hammer in my chest.
"Pretty boy," Charlie sighs against me, his arms wrapping around me and encasing me against his body. Somewhere I never want to leave. "You up for this tonight?"
Am I? We don't have sex often. I'm getting better at it, at accepting his attentions and enjoying myself and feeling wanted. I scrub the last of the grime off the dish I'm working on and rinse it, setting it into the drying rack after I've turned off the water. The entire time Charlie holds me, his hips gently rocking against me where I can feel his slowly hardening cock. I can't deny that it doesn't thrill me, knowing that despite the whole topsy-turvy day he still wants me. Wants to make me feel good and, god, I want to make him feel good as well. I close my eyes for a moment, weighing everything out, deciding what I want.
In answer, I turn in his hold and pull him into a kiss. Together we melt into each other's arms, slow and sensual. He's soft with his kisses, only increasing the desire when I moan softly. One of his hands drops down to grab my ass which makes my hips twitch against him. Our clothed cocks brush against each other and we both moan at the same time. My body's not quick to react, but I'm slowly getting hard. After a minute, Charlie breaks the kiss and our foreheads press together, our eyes closed as he ruts against me. I could take this, I think. This would be just fine, letting him grind against me and take what he wants. Seeing him in pleasure brings me my own pleasure. It wouldn't be the first time I've gotten off just from him rutting against my thigh or sucking him off. Seeing his eyes darken, feeling his movements become more erratic, his fingers gripping me tightly while he chases release... It's enough for me.
"Bedroom," I finally hiss out, and he moans in agreement. His hands take every possible moment to touch me, to grab my hips or squeeze my ass, and then when we collapse on the bed together, they're everywhere. Gripping my thighs, spreading them so he can settle between them. His jeans are rough compared to the soft fleece of my pajama bottoms, applying a firmer pressure against me as his hips grind against me. Charlie's pressing kisses to my neck, my throat, my lips. One hand slips up underneath my shirt, running over the soft flesh of my stomach and up to my chest. He settles his fingers against one of my nipples, tweaking it teasingly. Shit. He knows how sensitive I am there, how it's practically a direct wire to my cock, which I feel twitch and jump in response. A small chuckle escapes my boyfriend in delight.
"You're so easy to toy with," he teases as he pinches my nipple. I have to force my brain to think for a moment and realize he's not saying it cruelly. Just pure, innocent fun between the two of us.
Charlie shifts and sits up, his hands withdrawing from me suddenly. I don't have long to miss them, though, before they're back, pushing my shirt up so my full chest is exposed. And then he's bent over me, lips sucking small bruises into my skin, teeth biting and digging into me, like he's trying to devour me. I groan as he finally makes me shuck off my shirt so he has easy access to me. So he can make me feel desired.
"Charlie," I whine as he grinds against me again, teasing me. I don't know what I want out of this tonight. Whether we end up with him thrusting inside me or if I cum with his lips around my cock. All I know is that I want him to drive me crazy, make me find my release and in turn make him feel good. I tangle my fingers into his hair, tugging and pushing, unsure where I want his attention.
"Mm? You need to tell me what you want," he teases, knowing that it's a surefire way for me to squirm and gasp underneath him. He loves making me spill my desires to him. Loves hearing me say it rather than inflicting it upon his mind. I wonder if its some way of his to make me practice restraining my Ability and at making me actually tell the truth about what I want when we fuck. "I'm not a Mind Reader, you know."
That would have earned a laugh from me had he not decided that exact moment to latch his lips to my nipple and close his hand over my cock through my pants. Instead what comes out is a loud moan and my head thumping back into the mattress. Fucking tease.
"I want to make you feel good," I finally manage to work out. I know he also gets pleasure from giving me pleasure, but I want to take some modicum of control right now. I want to give him just as good as he gives me.
Charlie pauses, contemplating my request, and then finally sits up and slides his body away from me. Despite it being my request, I still groan in disappointment at the absence of the press of his body against mine.
I have to take a deep breath, steadying myself and letting the ramped up feeling in me to calm enough that I'm not ready to cum on the spot. With one hand, I push him so he's sitting on the bed and then I push myself up. He lets me undo his jeans, lifting his hips so I can pull them down around his ankles and then toss them to the side in the general direction of our hamper. I swallow as I eye the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. Confined and aching for my touch. I wet my lips, deciding in the moment just exactly what I want. I want to feel him deep in my throat, feel my muscles spasm as I work him down, squeezing the flesh and milking him for all he's worth. I don't even bother pulling his boxers down. I work his cock out and listen to him moan as I stroke him slowly, running my thumb over the head of his cock and smearing the precum around.
"Poor Chloe. Having to hear you think about what you wanted to do after she left," I tease back, my hand sliding up and down on his cock. I keep my movements slow, not wanting to end this before I've had a chance to have my real fun. I want to... I want to have the focus on him this time. I want him to feel the amount of pleasure he makes me feel when he focuses on me. When he puts aside his own pleasure to work me up. "I can only imagine what sort of thoughts had been running through that distracted mind of yours."
His answer is a long groan, head tipped back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down on his moan. The air is thick with arousal and it drapes over us, amping up the energy. His desperation to feel me on him is so strong that even without pushing into his mind, I can feel the tendrils. I finally decide to spare the poor man and lean forward, shuffling my knees against the floor until I'm pressed flush against the bed, one hand bracing myself against his knees and the other still stroking his cock. I waste no time in taking him between my lips, keeping my eyes locked on his face, watching it twist and contort into an expression of pure ecstasy as I roll my tongue over the hot skin. Once, this was where I felt like I belonged. At my knees, servicing someone who was above me in every sense of the word. I haven't had that specific thought in a while. I know I'm Charlie's equal, even if I don't always agree with it or find solace in the fact. But right now, working Charlie's length deeper into the cavern of my mouth, I believe it. I know that he'd have me any way I agreed to. I know that he'd never do anything to intentionally harm me. I've done my best to do so as well, amending the hurt I've caused him.
This is what I love to do, though. I love to feel his hips jerk forward, driving his cock deeper into me until it bumps the back of my throat and I have to force myself to relax. Let my body accept the way the head finally breaches my throat. My moan of satisfaction is long and deep, and I'm pleased when Charlie echoes his own noise, hands fisting into the comforter beneath him, resisting the urge to grip my hair. He knows I'd love it, but he holds back, worried that he'll do something wrong. I let my hand fall away from the base of his cock and reach out, fingers scrambling against the bedding until they find Charlie's. Instantly our fingers intertwine, squeezing together in communication. I want him to hold my head. I want him to thrust upwards, gentle and needing, until he finds release. I Want--
I don't intend on it but latches onto Charlie. I hear him inhale sharply, feel his fingers twitch in my own. Finally, raggedly, he groans and arches his hips against me, rocking into my throat tentatively.
"Yeah, Damien? You want it that bad?" he murmurs above me, letting his other hand finally slide down and brush against my cheeks. It then dips downwards, fingers seeking out my throat and the slight bulge of his cock he can feel through the layers of flesh and muscle. I hear him curse and I rub my thighs together, feeling the wet patch of precrum that's almost leaking through the front of my briefs. "Shit. You're such a good boy, y'know that? Just want to make someone feel good and I'm so fucking lucky."
Even in passion, he's so careful with his words, even when I want him to tell me I'm worthless, a vessel for pleasure to be used and thrown away. He'd never do that, I know that, I know he wouldn't. But there's still that unease, some days, that I'll find myself back in the same situation I used to be in. That I'll be hurt. I know he won't. He'd never do that to me. He'd never let me suffer or hurt me. His hands are always so gentle when he grips my head and rocks his hips forward, holding me still as he uses my mouth and throat.
"That's it. That's it. You're such a good boy. I love you," he moans, letting himself loose, letting the words fall without a thought. "Always so good for me. Always know just how to work me. Fuck. You're so good, Damien. Always have been."
Fuck, I think, my thighs squeezing my cock tightly between them, staving off my own release. I'm going to cum from this. I know I am. I know that the second he spills down my throat that I'll cum on the spot. Trained to do so by a previous owner. Something that I don't mind, oddly enough. There's never an expectation for Charlie to return the favor, and I don't think I'd ever want him to. I like this, I have to remind myself. I like being in this position. I like having my attention solely fixed on him. There is, some days, no where else I'd rather be.
I'm sure this is something I should work on--it's not exactly ideal wanting to serve someone to the extent I want to--but I can't bare to bring it up in therapy. I can't know whether this is something I naturally want or if it was instilled buy Mark.
He's muttering sweet nothings while rutting into my mouth, his fingers firm but gentle against the back of my head. He's moaning my name and arching upwards. If I try to draw back for air or to take a short break, he lets me. Lets me stroke him in the interim while I work my jaw and swallow down gulps of air. I've started rutting forwards, grinding my hips against the side of the bed, desperate for release. I want him to cum first, though. I'll cum on the spot when he does. I know I will.
When my lips close once more around the head, he moans louder and I feel the muscles in his thighs tense. He doesn't need to warn me that he's close. I know already. I know he's nearly there. A few seconds of practiced and perfected suction will be just enough to drive him over the edge. Enough to make him spill down my waiting throat as reward for my actions. I look up at him, watching the way he writhes under my attention, drinking in the sight of his beautiful face and feeling the pride that I did that. I made him feel this kind of pleasure and that he loves me regardless of whether we have sex or not. He treats me so well, so fucking well, and I can only hope that he feels I treat him back just the same.
His groan brings me out of my thoughts and I double my efforts. His hips are bucking faster, his fingers gripping my hair tighter and pulling me into his thrusts. I swallow him down once more, delight thrilling through me as he curses again.
"Damien, oh fuck, I'm so close, so fucking close," Charlie moans, long and low. He has his head pushed far back into the mattress, a sheen of sweat visible on his throat. I watch him swallow again, and then his head lifts at the same time to look at me as his hand pulls me flush against his hips. He jerks once, twice, and then a third time before he cums, spilling down my throat and groaning my name almost lovingly.
His chest is heaving when his hips finally still and his body slumps back down. Charlie lets his eyes close as he lays there, and I slowly lap his cock clean. I'm still hard in my sleep pants, aching and ready to cum. Just the right amount of pressure would tip me over. I don't need it, just staring at Charlie's spent body is enough to have me coming, but I force myself to hold back, restrain myself so I don't cum like a teenager. Charlie waves one hand lazily and I clamber back up onto the bed, slotting his thigh between my own. We both like this some days, letting me rut into his body and find my release like he's a toy for me. I don't like thinking about it like that, but it's the closest we have to a description. Softly, he murmurs encouragement, almost cooing as I use his body for pleasure. I whimper into the side of his neck, giving one final thrust, and then I'm coming, feeling my cock twitch and spurt.
"That's it, good boy. So good. Love making you feel just as good as you make me," Charlie murmurs into my ears. I'm grateful I'm already flush from finding my release because I know I would be blushing if he'd said that in any other circumstance.
My body relaxes against his own after a moment, exhaustion seeping deep into my bones.
"You're still dressed," I mumble into his chest, laughing a little as I realize the fact. Aside from his jeans, he's still wearing his button up from earlier.
"Mmf. Not fully dressed," he corrects me, petting his fingers through my hair lovingly.
We're quiet for a couple minutes, and I think he may very well have fallen asleep with how light and even his breathing is. Sometimes this is the only way I'm able to tell him how I truly feel. How he makes my heart ache in the best of ways. How I can't envision a life without him in it and how pathetic that makes me feel.
Today, though, all I can really say is how grateful I am for his patience with me today.
"I'm so lucky to have you. You're so good to me," I mumble into his skin. I'm not sure, but I think I feel him hum in response, but he's quiet once more, breathing soft and not moving beneath me. Maybe he has fallen asleep. "As long as I've got you, the world makes sense. It's not as... as terrifying as it used to be."