Chapter Text
“I want a TV,” Charley tells Jerry a couple days later.
Jerry snorts. “That’s not how this works. You don’t make demands.”
Charley hesitates, but then steps right up in Jerry’s space and grasps his shirt with one hand. “I’m making a deal,” he says, trying for flirtatious, and no doubt failing miserably.
Jerry raises his eyebrows, looking slightly surprised but intrigued, and then says, “What’s it worth to you?”
“What do you want?” Charley asks, biting his lip.
“No, I want to know what you think will interest me.” And just like that Jerry has the upper hand again.
Floundering, Charley tries to think of something Jerry can’t just take. He was only planning on having to agree to something, not make the opening offer. “I won’t fight you,” he says finally, and then, stumbling over it, “Next time you fuck me.”
Jerry appears to ponder this for a moment, and then tangles a hand in Charley’s hair and pulls his head back to look him in the eye. “Not enough - you’ll want it.”
Charley’s honestly not sure if he can do it, but he thinks about how Jerry’s gone for long stretches of time, how he’s only got those books for entertainment, and how he can only try so many combinations before the alarm goes off, and figures he doesn’t have much to lose besides pride here. “Okay,” he mumbles unhappily.
“Get on your knees,” Jerry says, smiling.
“Right now?” Charley squeaks.
Jerry smirks and flattens his palm on the top of Charley’s head to push him down. Charley goes to the floor. There’s no point in trying to stand against Jerry’s supernatural strength.
“We're going to try something new, and I think you're going to like it,” Jerry tells him, making what that something is pretty clear as he cups Charley’s cheek with one hand, running his thumb along the seam of Charley’s mouth, as he undoes his belt and opens his jeans with the other. “Or at least you'd better convince me you like it.”
Charley knows he's not off to a good start as his lip curls, but Jerry just chuckles softly before instructing, “Take it out.” Charley very gingerly pulls Jerry’s pants down a little and curls his fingers around his mostly soft cock. He pauses for a few seconds, uncertain, but then decides he should go ahead and try, and leans in take Jerry in his mouth, but he’s halted with another hair pull.
“Not so fast,” Jerry smarms. “Give it a kiss hello.”
Something curdles in Charley's stomach, a stab of humiliation, but he still does it, presses a quick kiss to the crown of Jerry’s cock. Jerry’s holding him with both hands now, his dick right in Charley’s face. “Lick it a little,” Jerry says. “Show it some appreciation.” He rocks his hips, dragging his stiffening erection along Charley’s cheek and mouth. Charley sticks his tongue out, flicking at the head, unintentionally dipping slightly into the slit and tasting precum.
“That’s it, fucking worship that dick.” Jerry’s voice is rough, and it’s like cringe-worthy porn. Absurdly, the thought reminds Charley that Jerry doesn’t show up on film, which lets him escape in his head briefly, thinking about how weird this would look if they were being recorded. Jerry, however, tires of his teasing quickly when Charley stops reacting. He tweaks Charley’s ear to get his attention, and then tells him, “Now say please.”
“Please,” Charley repeats woodenly.
Jerry’s thumbs dig into his cheeks hard enough to pry his top and bottom teeth apart. “Try not to gag,” he says offhandedly, before sliding his cock into Charley’s mouth. Charley’s choking before he gets very far. Jerry pulls back and sighs, disappointed, before immediately thrusting back in. Again, Charley chokes, and again he’s allowed a rushed, panicked breath, followed by Jerry’s dick pushing between his lips. Charley quickly loses count of how many time this repeats.
“If you can’t do it, I can make it so you don’t need to breathe,” Jerry threatens coolly.
“I can,” Charly protests, but he’s practically gargling spit as he does. Jerry cocks his head slightly, and then pushes Charley’s chin up. The angle opens Charley’s throat a little more, and he manages to suppress his gag reflex longer this time. Saliva builds up in his mouth, and when he tries to swallow it just lodges Jerry that much deeper.
“Good boy,” Jerry smirks. “See how daddy’s teaching you?”
Charley glares up at him murderously. Jerry laughs, twists his hand in Charley’s hair and drags him farther down on his cock, then holds him there until Charley is convulsing, instinctively trying to buck free.
When Jerry lets go, Charley collapses forward, catching himself on his palms and hacking up some bile. Jerry prods him in the stomach with the toe of his boot. “We have a deal, Charley,” Jerry says. He grasps Charley’ head again and massages Charley’s temples, but there’s nothing nice or comforting in his tone. “You gonna hold up your end?”
“I'm trying,” Charley whimpers. The truth is he can barely remember the deal. He just wants this to be over.
“Ask daddy to help,” Jerry says, and maybe Charley was wrong, maybe there is something comforting about how calm Jerry sounds.
“Daddy,” Charley says, hating how tiny and shaky it comes out.
“Fuck,” Jerry groans, all drawn-out and smug. He cups the back of Charley’s head and guides him onto his cock again, but this time he’s got his other hand wrapped around the base of it, stopping before he goes too deep. It’s almost easy now. All Charley has to do is let go and keep his mouth slack while Jerry does the work. And while maybe it feels a little like his brain is getting knocked around in his skull as he’s yanked back and forth, it's still so much better than before that a traitorous part of Charley genuinely feels grateful.
“Keep your mouth open. Open wider. Stick out your tongue a little. Yeah, like that.” Charley follows Jerry’s instructions like he’s on autopilot, and then Jerry is jerking himself off, quick and furious, the tip of his cock thrumming against Charley’s obediently proffered tongue. His hand keeps hitting Charley’s lower face with enough force that Jerry has to grab his hair to keep Charley in place. And there’s that horrible, lying voice in his head again, whispering that Jerry is doing him a favor - helping it be over, helping Charley not fail.
He also helps Charley not spill any when he finally comes, tipping Charley’s chin up again as Jerry’s release pools in his mouth. “Swallow,” Jerry growls. Charley forces it down, throat bobbing desperately against his instinctive distaste.
“Say thank you,” Jerry says after Charley’s choked it down, adding insult to injury, as always. Charley drags his gaze up to Jerry’s face, and Jerry’s dark eyes reel him in.
“Thank you,” he says softly, not as fake as he’d like.
“Yeah,” Jerry says, and his satisfaction doesn't soften him at all; his voice drips with sadistic delight. “Little slut, you can have a TV.”