Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charlie notices him right away.

The man is sitting in one of the front pews, along with the teachers and directors, but he doesn’t look like a teacher. There’s no way, Charlie thinks.

He’s wearing pressed dress pants, and a white buttoned down shirt that seems to cling to his arms. Charlie stares at his wide, strong shoulders because it’s all he can really see from this position, until the man turns his head to ask someone a question.

The view takes Charlie’s breath away. His jawline is strong, and he seems to have freckles dusted over the tops of his cheeks. His lips are so pink, and his hair is the prettiest shade Charlie has ever seen. Maybe strawberry blonde, reddish. Light and dark at the same time, perfectly styled so it doesn’t fall over his eyes.

Charlie is absolutely staring. It feels like Mass has been going on for hours, and this view is saving him from so much boredom. Charlie wonders who this is, if he’s just visiting. Maybe he’s a very young father who wants to enroll his child into this nightmare of a boarding school. Poor kid.

The thought of this man being a father makes Charlie squirm in the uncomfortable pew he’s sitting on. There are hundreds of teenagers sitting around him, every single one of them staring off into space like they’d rather be absolutely anywhere else. Everyone is wearing the same thing, blue blazers over sad-looking buttoned downs, with matching pants. Except the girls, who get to wear skirts instead. Lucky them. 

The priest asks everyone to rise, and Charlie does, because he doesn’t have a choice. His eyes trail down the man’s back, down to his waist and firm-looking ass.

Jesus Christ, Charlie thinks. Which is sacrilegious. The thought makes him smile.

His smile slowly fades as the man starts to walk towards the altar, and Charlie realizes he should probably be listening to what the priest is saying. He couldn’t give less of a shit about the word of the Lord, or whatever, but he’s suddenly incredibly interested.

“To conclude today’s service, I’d like to introduce you all to your new mentor and teacher-in-training. Mr. Nelson will be joining you on campus this semester, and has an open door policy for any and all concerns you may have. Would you like to say a few words, Mr. Nelson?”

Charlie is staring so hard and he knows he’s not the only one. It’s like all the students are holding their breath, the silence in the room is deafening. 

Nick reaches the elderly priest and takes the stand with a kind smile. He says, “Hello everyone. I’m Mr. Nelson, as I’m sure you’ve just heard. I’m excited to join you all for the next few months. Please come see me if you’d like to talk about anything and everything, regarding the campus or otherwise.”

He’s so well spoken and so, so tragically handsome. Charlie is not sitting very close to the altar, but it’s like he can feel the calm and warmth radiating from this man. Charlie is determined to stop by his office as soon as humanly possible. He wonders if the man will be sleeping on campus. Everyone else does.

He doesn’t realize that Mass is over until the students sitting around him start to exit the pews.

-

Charlie visits Mr. Nelson in his office the next day. He just wants to make a good impression, is all.

The door is open just as he’d promised it would be. Charlie knocks on it gently as he steps inside.

Mr. Nelson looks up at Charlie from his desk with a smile. Charlie is nearly stunned from having this man’s eyes on him. They’re so warm, brown like melted chocolate, which Charlie truly didn’t expect. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, showing off his thick forearms and Charlie has to fight himself not to stare.

“Hi there,” the man says, closing his laptop to give the student his full attention, “What brings you in today?”

“Good morning, Mr. Nelson,” Charlie says softly, stopping by the front of his desk. He looks right into Mr. Nelson’s eyes, even though everything in him is screaming to look away. He wants to leave an impression more than anything.

“I just stopped by to introduce myself, in case you’ve been lonely for a bit,” he continues, fingers playing absently with the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, “I’m Charlie Spring.”

The man’s smile is so sweet, Charlie is positive he’s about to melt on the spot. His eyes glance down to the name plaque placed on Mr. Nelson’s desk; it reads Nicholas L. Nelson.

“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. How’d you guess that I’ve been feeling lonely?” he asks. 

He has a boyish charm - Charlie can’t imagine Nick being much older than him. But he carries himself with so much grace and looks so grown. Charlie wonders if he’s here for some sort of college experience. Maybe his dad is on the school board. Nepotism always wins.

“It’s easy to get lonely around here,” Charlie replies, looking around the room. The walls are still bare from personality, just some older posters with bible verses on them. Charlie, unfortunately, can quote most of them by heart.

Mr. Nelson raises an eyebrow at him, like that surprises him. “Even with hundreds of students around all the time?”

Charlie doesn’t know how to reply without sounding like a huge downer. How does he look at this man and tell him he barely has any friends? That all the boys stay far away from him because being gay is, apparently, contagious? The boys are seldom allowed to be near the girls, even though that’s probably where Charlie feels the safest. 

He shrugs his shoulder instead and says, “It’s easy to get lost in the crowd, I guess.”

Nick hums quietly, like he’s contemplating something. “What grade are you in?”

“Just started senior year,” Charlie says softly, “I’m supposed to graduate in the summer.”

It’s odd, but he wants to tell Nick everything. How he’s been here practically all his life, that the summers back home are miserable and feel even more like prison. That his family placed him here to essentially hide him away and hope that he outgrows the never-ending phase of being a queer. Amen.

Instead, he asks, “Are you in college? Usually our mentors are geriatric.”

He’s genuinely surprised when Nick laughs. Usually his mouth just gets him into trouble.

“I am,” Nick replies, smiling at him, “It’s part of a teaching program. I think it’s their first year accepting someone a bit younger.”

Decades younger, Charlie thinks.

He makes a face. “You want to be a teacher?”

Nick makes a sound like he’s biting back another laugh, but it sounds a little sadder this time. He shrugs one shoulder and says, “Maybe? Or some sort of counselor, probably.”

He shrugs again and looks right into Charlie’s eyes, asking, “Do you know what you want to be for the rest of your life?”

Charlie wasn’t expecting the question and it makes him pause. He starts to blush a little, playing with the strap of his backpack again. Shit, all Charlie wants in this life is to be free, but that’s not an answer that makes sense.

“No,” he replies quietly, “I just know I want to get out of here.”

Nick nods at him, his gaze softening. “Yeah. I can understand that,” he says and it kind of sounds like, The feeling is mutual.

Charlie wants to ask so many questions. Where do you want to get out of? This brand new job, this brand new campus you just arrived to? Do you want to be free, too?

Instead, he smiles politely and says, “Yeah, well. Anyway.. We don’t have to get into it, um. It was nice to meet you,” not wanting to be a burden from the moment they first meet, taking a few steps back from the desk. 

He watches as Nick’s brow furrows a bit.

“That’s what I’m here for, though. You do know that, right?” Nick asks, soft but concerned. “If you ever need someone to talk to, or just. Someone to be around.”

Charlie swallows hard, swallowing back so many emotions that he can’t put a finger on. He just nods, trying to smile again so Nick doesn’t worry.

“Yeah. I appreciate that, Mr. Nelson,” he says softly.

Nick nods back at him, even though he still looks a bit concerned. 

“My door is always open for you, Mr. Spring,” he says and it sounds so formal, so grown. Something about it makes butterflies form and heat crawl down Charlie’s tummy.

Charlie doesn’t know much about anything. But he knows what want feels like, and this is absolutely it.

-

A few days later, Charlie gets in a fight on campus. 

He doesn’t normally give a shit what people say about him. If he did, he’d probably be in juvenile detention or prison by now.

But when a few boys from his year started taunting him outside, one of them got close enough to tug hard on his backpack, ripping it open and pulling Charlie onto the ground with it. It was raining, the wet grass around them just starting to get muddy, and most of Charlie’s schoolwork and supplies were on the ground. 

Charlie saw red immediately. He got up the moment he realized what was going on and went chest to chest with the main bully. The kid shoved him, his friends laughing in Charlie’s face when it made him nearly lose his balance, and Charlie doesn’t really remember much else except thinking, Don’t fucking touch me.

The pain in his right hand tells a story, though, the skin of his knuckles raw and ripped up. If he tries to focus, he can vaguely remember spitting, “Fuck you!” before getting decked in the face. 

That’s how he finds himself, alone, sitting in front of Mr. Nelson’s desk. His ribs ache, his backpack basically useless at his feet and he holds a wadded up tissue against his nose to stop the bleeding. 

The pain is something he can live with. He’s used to that. But he’s livid, because he knows that everyone in the staff is going to blame him for throwing the first punch. It’s happened before and Charlie was put on a point system for it. He usually gets sent to a Dean’s office, though, not the mentor’s.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but it can’t be good since they didn’t even allow him to see the campus nurse first. All he knows is, he’s supposed to graduate soon and he wants to leave. He won’t be able to do that if he gets suspended, or expelled. 

The anger vibrates through him, at the unfairness, the injustice of it all. The office door opens and closes and Charlie watches as Mr. Nelson sits on his chair behind the desk, staring right back at him with a stern look on his face. Charlie looks down immediately.

“What happened?” Mr. Nelson asks him and Charlie clenches his jaw, not wanting to talk about it.

He shrugs, and asks, “What does it look like?” still staring at the floor.

There is a bit of silence, and Charlie starts to feel a little bad. He really wanted to make a good impression on Mr. Nelson; blame it on his crush and severe daddy issues. So much for that. 

“Well, it looks like the Headmaster wants you suspended,” Nick replies calmly, but his voice is firm. Darker than before, like there’s an undercurrent of anger rushing through his veins, too.

Charlie looks up at him, seething. “Then why don’t you get it over with already?” he nearly spits out, so fucking done with this entire campus, this entire life.

Nick’s jaw clenches and he says, low and infuriated, “You’re lucky you’re even sitting here at all, able to talk about this with me instead of the entire board. It’s possible Lucas has a concussion, and his parents have been contacted. This is serious, Mr. Spring.”

Do they know their son is a little bitch? is what Charlie wants to ask, but instead he scoffs, “Yeah, lucky me.”

Charlie didn’t think Nick could look any angrier, but he was wrong. The man doesn’t raise his voice, just gets quieter, which is somehow so much worse.

“Do you want to be expelled?” Nick asks, leaning forward in his seat, “Because from what I remember the other day, you said pretty explicitly that you wanted to graduate and get out of here.”

Charlie can feel his eyes start to warm up, and he squeezes them shut to will the tears to go away. 

“Is that what you want?” Nick asks, trying to chisel at the foot thick, stone wall Charlie is building around himself, “To leave here with barely four months until graduation to go?”

“No,” Charlie says, his voice shaking from the unshed tears, “It’s not what I want.”

He can’t see Nick since his eyes are closed, but he opens them once he hears Nick’s voice become softer.

“Then let me help you,” Nick says, still firm but becoming more gentle, like he’s talking to a scared woodland creature instead of a bleeding, broken boy.

You can’t help me. Nobody can help this, Charlie thinks and he shakes his head slightly, barely noticeable, wiping at his eyes.

Nick tries another approach. “Can you tell me where it began? Did he.. do something to you?” he asks, trying so hard to catch Charlie’s gaze.

Charlie kicks at his torn up backpack on the floor. 

Nick looks down at it, his brow furrowing. “He ripped up your bag?”

“He pulled me to the ground with it,” Charlie finally says, voice rough from trying to swallow back the tears. His entire back is covered in mud and dirt, still aching from the impact of the rough terrain on his skin.

Nick watches him for a bit, assessing. Then he asks, “Why would he do that?”

Charlie isn’t sure if it’s all the anger bubbling up to the surface, or maybe it’s just the way he keeps thinking this is unfair, this is so fucking unfair on a continuous loop, but he spits out, “It’s because I’m a faggot, Mr. Nelson. Ever heard of one?”

This seems to stun the mentor. He’s quiet for a long time and Charlie closes his eyes again, not wanting to see the inevitable negative reaction on his face. Disgust, outrage, who knows. He’s seen it all.

The silence goes on for so long that Charlie is worried about his own time perception. Maybe I got hit harder than I thought.

Then, so quietly, with that same soft voice from before, Nick says, “I’m gonna let you off with a warning.”

Charlie opens his eyes, bewildered. “A warning?”

Nick nods, typing away at his laptop. Like he’s done with the conversation.

Charlie is completely dumbfounded. “What about Lucas’ parents?” he asks, shaking his head in confusion, “And the Headmaster? And the point system I’m under?”

This would have been it, Charlie is sure. With so many reprimands over the years, this incident would have tipped him into suspension territory, easily. Especially with how much the Headmaster doesn’t care for him, or people like him.

Nick looks back at him, with a calm, confident look on his face. He replies, “That is for me to deal with. They allowed me the decision, and that’s what I’ve decided. It’s done.”

Charlie stares at him for a long time, even though Nick goes back to his computer. Probably typing up an email to the Headmaster, saying God knows what.

“Why are you helping me?” Charlie asks. He can’t help himself. No one has ever given him even a slight bit of a break. Especially not about his violent tendencies towards other students, whether they deserved it or not.

He notices Nick’s fingers falter over the keyboard, then come to a stop. The man looks down to his hands, like he’s contemplating how he’s going to reply.

Then, he looks into Charlie’s eyes and says, “People like us have to stick together, and be there for each other. No matter what.”

Charlie is completely stunned, nearly frozen in his seat. He knows his eyes must be the size of sauce pans. People like us?

Nick doesn’t give him more time to think about it. He firmly says, “Go get yourself checked out at the nurse’s office, Mr. Spring. Make sure you don’t have a concussion as well.”

Charlie gets up on shaky legs, gathering his mess of a backpack, all his supplies still dirty and nearly tumbling out. It kind of makes him want to cry all over again, the injustice of the situation hitting him right in the gut. He’s going to have to use duct tape to hold it all together, because he’d rather die than reach out to his father for any favor. 

Nick watches him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he says, softer than before, “Take the rest of the day, too. Get some rest, if you can. I’ll email your teachers.”

Charlie swallows hard, not knowing what to say except, “Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

He starts to walk out of the room, limping a bit due to the pain in his back. Before he exits, he turns and says, “I owe you one.”

Nick almost smiles at that, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me a thing, Charlie,” he says but Charlie simply doesn’t believe him.

-

Barely a day later, Charlie opens his dorm door and finds a box sitting in front of it. It says Mr. Spring on it in loopy cursive. 

He opens it right then and there, in case it’s a prank and has something disgusting inside of it.

But it doesn’t. Inside the box is a backpack. It’s weather-proof, so much nicer than his own ever was. His mouth falls open in surprise, and he quickly brings the box inside, setting it on his bed.

Charlie pulls out the backpack and finds supplies inside, basic things like pencils, pens and book covers, plus a few spiral notebooks.

He feels heat prickle behind his eyes, the tears welling up without any of his say as he smiles. There’s a small rainbow flag pin attached to the bag, and Charlie runs his thumb over it as the tears slowly begin to fall. 

-

Charlie spends all night trying to think of how to thank Mr. Nelson. His mind starts to wander as he thinks about what the man told him.

People like us have to stick together.

He plays with the rainbow pin in his hands as he lays in bed, like it’s a lucky token in his possession. 

Suddenly, he knows exactly what to gift Mr. Nelson.

-

Charlie is at Mr. Nelson’s office again the next day, holding a small, velvet box in his hands. He knocks on the open door gently.

Nick looks up from his computer and Charlie is positive that the mentor starts to blush. The view completely takes Charlie’s breath away.

“Good morning, Mr. Spring,” Nick says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, “What brings you back in today?”

Charlie slowly walks inside, and without thinking too much about it, he closes the door behind him. He swears he can see Nick tense up just the slightest bit, but he doesn’t regret it.

“Good morning, Mr. Nelson,” he says, starting to get timid. He approaches the desk and stares into Nick’s eyes, before he lets the shyness win and looks down at the floor.

“Um, I really wanted to say thank you, and show my appreciation for what you’ve done for me,” Charlie says softly, and his cheeks start to burn from the intensity of his own blush. 

Nick shakes his head, but his cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink as he glances down at the box in Charlie’s hands.

“I told you, Charlie, there’s really no need to thank me. You don’t owe me anything,” Nick says, and his voice is so warm and sweet. Charlie wants to drown in it, wants to wash away all his sins in its currents. 

“I know, but. I have something for you that I don’t need, and you might find it useful,” he says quietly. He opens the box and sets it on the desk, pushing it towards Nick.

Inside is a rosary. The beads are a black onyx shade, with the details and cross a precious, silver tone. It’s absolutely beautiful. 

Nick lets out a quiet gasp, looking up at Charlie with his big, brown eyes and says, “Charlie. You didn’t buy this for me, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

No, but I would’ve, he wants to say.

“No, no,” Charlie reassures him, taking a seat, “It was gifted to me by my father, when he sent me here. He said it was supposed to be a lucky charm, but.” 

He shakes his head, trying to stay positive, “But it’s never really brought me any luck, and I don’t use it.” He looks up at Nick, blinking slowly and biting at his lip.

“But I know you need one, if you’re going to stick around for Mass and all that,” Charlie says softly, all but wringing his hands together on his lap, “Maybe it could be your good luck charm instead. Like the flag pin will be mine.”

Nick looks completely stunned. He stares in awe at the piece of jewelry, his fingers brushing over the onyx beads. 

“Charlie, I can’t accept this,” he says softly, looking at Charlie with what can only be described as wonder. It makes Charlie squirm in his seat.

“Sure you can, it’s already yours,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m never going to use it, and I’m sure that the priest has already asked you to run the prayer this weekend.”

Nick’s blush gets deeper, running down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. Charlie feels feral with how much he wants to see more of that pretty, freckled skin. 

“I don’t know how I could repay you for this,” Nick says finally, “It’s just. It’s so beautiful, Charlie.”

Charlie smiles at him and says, “This is me paying you back, so now we’re even.”

Then he thinks about it for a second and adds, “You can pay me back by actually using it. It just gathers dust in my room at this point.”

Nick still looks stunned as he pulls the rosary from the box. Charlie thinks it looks even more beautiful in his hands. 

“Of course I’ll use it,” Nick says, giving him a warm smile, “This is so thoughtful. I’ll cherish it with my life.”

-

That Sunday during Mass, Charlie can see Mr. Nelson holding the rosary at the altar. It’s wrapped around his fingers as he uses it, draping down to his wrist at some points. The dark onyx looks gorgeous against his skin. Charlie feels an intense pride when Nick looks out into the audience and locks eyes with him, giving him a smile. It blooms inside of Charlie, a severe longing he’s never felt before. Like something that is already his but so, so out of his reach.

Charlie finds himself daydreaming about being held by Nick instead. Thinks about how Nick’s big, veined hands would fit perfectly around his throat. How, if Nick wanted him to, he’d drop to his knees and beg to be saved from perdition. 

Charlie would open his mouth to accept anything that Nick is willing to give him, his fingers, his spit, his cock. He’d choke on it with fervor and thank him afterwards, throat raw and split open, holy and blessed. He thinks about how Adam allowed God to reach inside his body and pull out a piece of him, how he’d allow it, too. Nick can have any part of him he needs, as long as he stays. 

Charlie wants Nick to spill all over his body and baptize him with his waters, drown him in his currents. He wants Nick to tell him, You’re saved, you’re saved, I’m right here and you’re saved.

Later that night, when Charlie’s alone in his bed, he touches himself and imagines it’s Nick’s hand around his cock instead. He hisses through his teeth at the thought, mouth falling open as precome drips down over his fingers, making his entire body shiver.

He thinks about Nick’s massive hands, those bright pink lips swollen from kisses, the way his hair would get all messy from Charlie’s hands. He whimpers, wondering if Nick would give it to him all at once or make him beg.

“Please,” Charlie whispers out loud, back arching off the bed, his free hand curling into the pillow under his head. He holds onto the base of his cock, like he thinks Nick would, holding himself back from pleasure even as his thighs start shiver.

“Mr. Nelson,” he breathes, voice breaking as he starts to fuck his fist again. He watches the precome bead on the tip of his cock, pictures Nick sucking it clean, calling him his best, filthy boy.

“God,” Charlie chokes out, letting the pleasure rush through his body, getting himself off with quick and messy strokes. He starts to pant, running his fingers over his sensitive nipples, using his nails the way Nick would use his teeth.

He knows Nick would give it to him so good. Give him exactly what he needs.

He pictures Nick towering over his kneeling body, nothing but a hand around Charlie’s throat, shushing him softly as Charlie gets himself off.

“Everyone’s gonna hear you, making a mess for me,” Nick murmurs, smiling breathlessly at Charlie’s resounding whine.

“What would they think, hm? You on your knees like this, begging for it. Gagging for me. What do you want, Mr. Spring?”

“I wanna come,” Charlie whispers into the quiet of his room, licking his lips, so close that it aches, “God, please, please let me come.”

He’ll repent for all his sins. He’ll be on his knees in the confession booth all day and night, mouth open, praying for it.

Please, touch me. Touch me, touch me, touch me.

In his mind, Nick laughs at him, a little cruel and painfully sweet. Like he can’t believe Charlie’s melting in his hands like this. 

The rosary hangs off Nick’s wrist as he finally touches Charlie, the beautiful chain wrapping so gently around his swollen, aching cock. His precome is pearly white, dripping over the onyx beads. Nick’s grip is so firm, hot and all encompassing compared to the soft brush of the beads, and the contrast in Charlie’s mind throws him right over the edge. 

“Fuck,” Charlie gasps, his back arching off the bed as he comes all over his fingers, mouth open and panting. The release is so intense, leaving him shivering and sensitive, nothing in his mind but Nick’s knowing, proud smile, calling Charlie his filthy boy.

Charlie drifts off to sleep thinking about Nick feeding him his communion, the man’s thumb brushing over his bottom lip as he pulls Charlie’s mouth open, dripping the wine inside.

“Swallow it all up,” Nick murmurs in his mind and Charlie knows, one day, he will.

Chapter Text

After the rosary, Charlie starts to be a bit more forward. If it can even be called that.

He visits Nick’s office nearly every day, bringing the mentor a snack or two and finding out which ones are his favorites. Then Charlie has a seat and they talk about life. He tries not to overstay his welcome, but Nick always insists that he stay longer and longer. And who is he to disobey?

Charlie finds out that Nick adores music of all types. The man loves to sing and the hymns are his favorite part of Mass. He has an older brother he doesn’t speak to, and only his mom is around anymore. 

Charlie desperately wants to hear Nick sing, but doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry about Nick’s family, either. But he does let Nick know that his father is a nightmare.

Charlie might as well be an orphan, if not for the fact that his father is absolutely still in his life, like a fucking disease he can’t seem to heal from. Every time he thinks he’s free, there’s another Summer at home, another family Christmas party, another berating text message. Just thinking about going home after graduation makes him want to throw up, but at least this time he’ll be an adult. 

He can go to any college he’d like, since money is all his father is good for, and the thought brings butterflies to his stomach.

Nick asks him what he’d like to go to school for, and that’s always a tricky question. Especially when he remembers Nick asking him the day they first met, Do you know what you want to be for the rest of your life? He considers lying, maybe as a defense tactic, but he decides to be honest. 

“I want to write films, or maybe direct them,” Charlie says, cheeks burning hot, “I think that would be incredible.”

Nick looks so charmed by this, smiling at him and saying, “Ooh, a filmmaker. What kind of films would you like to make?”

A part of Charlie considers keeping Nick at arm’s length, not telling him about every detail of his life. But one look at those eyes and he’s done for.

“I don’t know, movies like Moonlight or Tangerine,” he replies softly, playing with his fingers, “It’d be nice to see myself on screen in some way.”

Nick nods, his eyes softening like melted chocolate, “Representation is important. I’d like to see more of that, too.”

Charlie wants to ask him so many questions. About being queer, about why he’s involved with the church. But he doesn’t want to push it too far.

He’s done this before, where he had the privilege of holding something so beautiful and fragile, and instead of nurturing it, he crushed it with his bare hands, watched as it fell through his fingers and turned to dust.

The restraint is difficult, when all he can think about is Nick. His voice, his hands, the way he holds himself with so much confidence as he walks through the halls. All the students love him, and Charlie fights the jealousy tooth and nail every time he sees someone else make Nick laugh.

Charlie hopes he’s Nick’s favorite, though. He can feel every time Nick glances in his direction, the way his eyes linger just a bit longer than they’re supposed to. The way Nick smiles at him when their gazes lock from across the room, across the hall. It fills Charlie with pride, and gets him so hard so fast that he feels dizzy with it. 

But Charlie is trying very, very hard not to ruin this. He wants to keep this, whatever this is, safe and secure. It’s sacred.

He thinks he’s doing quite a good job of it, until the closet incident. 

-

That day had started out okay, then slowly turned to shit. It was incredibly hot outside, an intense heat wave during Spring that everyone was feeling and annoyed by, so he was even snappier than usual. 

Not for the first time, he felt horribly jealous of the girls on campus, because they got to wear skirts every day. Even his shorts were stifling, not to mention the long sleeve buttoned down and blazer he was forced to wear. 

Charlie got used to visiting Mr. Nelson’s office when he needed a pick-me-up, but he couldn’t find the mentor anywhere, which just made him even more frustrated.

So after lunch, he goes out of his way to an entirely different building on campus, so he can try to find Elle again.

They met about a month before by complete chance. He had been about to spit on some kid for calling him a slur outside, a pretty typical occurrence, and Elle was walking by at that moment. She swooped in and pulled Charlie away, telling the kid to fuck off. 

Charlie had been so angry, shaking from the nerves and Elle had taken him by the hand towards one of the campus buildings reserved for the girls’ extracurricular activities.

Charlie didn’t ask where he was being taken, didn’t really care, but was surprised when he realized it was one of the bathrooms on the last floor. He was even more surprised when Elle grabbed a sign from inside an abandoned locker, that she definitely left there beforehand. The sign said Out of Service, and he gaped as she taped it to the outside of the door and pulled him inside.

There, in the silence of the bathroom, Elle handed him a lit cigarette and they talked for a long time about their lives. Charlie didn't normally open up about himself, but he felt drawn towards Elle in a way that he didn’t completely understand. 

She came out to him as soon as he explained why he was about to fight someone, and everything suddenly made sense. Being the only two queer kids on campus, as far as they knew, created an intense bond between them. Charlie likened it to penguins in the freezing cold; finding mates that were like them and huddling together for warmth where they could find it. That’s what Elle felt like. Belonging and warmth.

They had to go their separate ways quickly once they heard footsteps outside, and Charlie never got to say goodbye or get her phone number. But she let him keep half of the cigarette, which he slowly smoked out of his dorm window that night, feeling relaxed and secure for the first time in a while.

So, with nowhere else to turn on this horrible day, he tries to find her again in the same place. The bathroom door has the Out of Service sign taped to it, so he takes a deep breath and hopes for the best.

By some stroke of luck, probably the rainbow pin strapped to his bag, he actually succeeds. 

Elle jumps when the bathroom door swings open, throwing her freshly lit cigarette into the sink. They both laugh when they realize everything is alright, and Elle runs to give him a hug like they’re old friends. Charlie allows it, even though it’s so disgustingly hot, and that brings his attention to what she’s wearing.

“I’m so mad you get to wear that skirt today,” he groans, slipping off his blazer for some relief. He rolls up his sleeves as Elle laughs, running to save their treasure from the sink. Neither of them care about the potential germs. If they die, they die.

“Oh yeah? You jealous?” she smiles, before lighting the cigarette in her mouth again and taking a puff, handing it over to Charlie once she’s done.

Charlie takes a deep, grateful drag and shivers from the rush of nicotine hitting his veins. He feels a bit lightheaded, and it feels so nice. He wonders what that says about him.

He blows the smoke out and, handing it back to her, he says, “One thousand percent jealous, actually.”

Elle giggles at him, and he’s struck by how beautiful she is. Inside and out. 

“What’s stopping you from wearing one?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she takes her own drag. 

Charlie walks over to the sink and splashes cold water on his hot face, sighing from the relief. He replies, honestly, “Access.”

Elle laughs again, slightly incredulous, “Oh, really? If you had a skirt, you’d wear it out?”

She passes him back the cigarette and he shrugs his shoulders, saying, “Yeah, I would.”

He takes another drag and smiles at the curious look she gives him. She doesn’t have to say anything for him to continue. 

“These idiots call me a faggot just for walking past them, in my regular uniform. Why would wearing a skirt make any difference?”

Charlie takes another drag for the admission, and passes it back to her when he starts to feel dizzy, “At least I wouldn’t be sweating my balls off in these shorts.”

That makes them both pause, then they burst out laughing. Elle tries to shush him so they don’t get caught, even though she’s probably laughing louder than he is.

“You’re a mess, Charlie Spring,” Elle teases him through giggles, grinning. 

Charlie is red in the face and he grins back at her, saying, “I think we have to be, to survive this shithole.”

She nods her head and takes another drag, saying, “Amen to that,” as she releases the smoke. She looks like a movie star like this, with the sun shining through the window and the smoke surrounding her like a shawl. Charlie suddenly wants to grab a camera and capture the moment. This beautiful, enticing girl in a Catholic school uniform, surrounded by forbidden smoke. 

Then, after a few seconds of silence she finally says, “I can get you a skirt.”

Charlie looks at her with his eyebrows raised. “Can you, really?”

Elle smiles at him, “Yeah, of course. Missing one won’t kill me.”

She tells him to stay put while she runs to her dorm, determined. Charlie is slightly infatuated with her.

It takes her about ten minutes and in that time, Charlie finishes the cigarette and looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t feel like the most handsome boy in the world, but he knows he’s attractive. He wonders if Nick sees that, too. If Nick thinks about him while he’s laying in bed at night, the way Charlie does. He wonders if Nick would even care that he wants to wear a skirt. 

The bathroom door swings open and Charlie jumps, then they’re both laughing again as Elle walks inside. She hands Charlie her folded up skirt, giggling at Charlie’s jaw being dropped from excitement.

“It should fit you just fine,” she says, then gets a bit serious, “Be careful though, okay? If anything happens, you come and find me.”

Elle pulls out her phone and they finally exchange phone numbers. Charlie feels giddy at the thought of having an actual friend on campus. Even if they’ll barely be given the opportunity to see each other.

He’s about to thank her and change into the skirt but a bell rings, and Elle looks at him with wide eyes and says, “Oh, we should go.”

They’re both giggling as they run out of the bathroom, Elle’s sacred Out of Service sign stashed into the random locker for next time. 

-

Charlie has the genius idea to change into the skirt right away. His dorm room is much too far away and, even though he doesn’t have class for a bit, he’s too lazy from the humid air to try to make it there and back on time.

He’s not sure if he’s going to keep the skirt on just yet, but he’s so curious about the fit, and how it will make him feel. He doesn’t want to walk out of a stall in the boy’s bathroom wearing one, either. Fuck knows who will be in the bathroom with him, and the last thing he wants to do is clean blood off his brand new skirt. 

Charlie arrives at his next class’ building with a bit of time to spare and makes the last minute decision to go inside one of the supply closets. There’s barely anything stored in it, and he’s never seen any teacher actually use it. He looks around to assess the possibility of someone barging inside and is satisfied when he sees very basic supplies, like ink cartridges for the old library printers.

Still, he locks the door as he steps inside. There’s barely any space but he doesn’t need much. Before he can make himself too nervous, he quickly undoes his belt and shorts, dropping them onto the floor.

Charlie sighs a bit in relief. It really is so fucking hot and he’s so tired of being stifled. He pulls the folded up skirt from his backpack and stares at it for a few seconds, a slow smile forming on his lips.

He’s wanted to wear one for so long. Every year, he watches the girls transition from their longer, flowy Winter skirts into these much shorter ones, and he’s always felt envious. There is something so freeing about them and as someone who’s pretty open about a lot of things, it’d be nice if clothing choices could be one of them.

He pulls the royal blue skirt up his legs and it’s a little loose on him, but not much. It stays on and the hem hits at about mid-thigh. He wonders if the girls pull them up even higher while they’re on break, smirking at the thought. The closet is a bit stifling, dark and moody the way most storage places are but Charlie feels a giddiness growing inside him that he can’t really describe. 

That is, until he hears the jingle of keys in the lock and the door swings open, nearly hitting him since there’s barely any space in the closet. It happens so fast that he can’t react properly, just turns around to face whoever it is with big, surprised eyes.

Mr. Nelson is standing there, hand still on the door knob and staring at him, his jaw dropped. 

It’s like time completely slows down to a halt. Charlie stares back at him, trying to think of something to say that isn’t, This room is occupied. But he can’t say that, because this isn’t one of his personal rooms, it’s a fucking closet that teachers and mentors have complete access to. 

And now he’s standing in it, not grabbing supplies and wearing a skirt, his shorts still in a heap by his feet on the floor. 

Charlie considers shoving Nick out of the way and bolting out of the closet. He’s so embarrassed.

What kind of explanation could he possibly give for this, that would make sense? He also realizes, belatedly, that the skirt very clearly belongs to another student and he’s not sure what the rules are regarding sharing uniforms. He knows that he shouldn’t have been even near the girls’ side of campus, that’s for damn sure. 

And it’s not like Nick hadn’t seen him. Obviously, he’s staring right at Charlie, and they would surely have to discuss this at some point, which could be even more embarrassing in Nick’s office. The dark corners of this closet feel safer, somehow.

A few seconds have passed and suddenly it’s like the entire world comes back to focus for both of them. They hear some sort of afternoon announcement over the speakers, and the sound of a group of teenagers starting to walk down the hallway, towards their lockers.

In a move that completely shocks Charlie to his core, instead of muttering some excuse under his breath and leaving, Nick steps closer into the closet and shuts the door behind him. 

Charlie forgets about the embarrassment immediately. All he can think about is how Nick is standing nearly chest to chest with him, his shoulders so broad from this distance. The look on Nick’s face is surprised, like he also shocked himself when he closed the door. 

Nick looks good. His white buttoned down is just starting to look damp from sweat, his hair is kind of a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. His pressed pants look tight as ever. The worst part is that Charlie can smell him for the first time. He’s wearing some sort of sweet, warm cologne, the heat making the scent stronger with his sweat. It makes Charlie’s stomach swoop, his mouth fill with saliva like he’s suddenly starving, animalistic.

Charlie wants to taste Mr. Nelson. He wants to lean forward and lick a stripe up Nick’s sweaty neck, taste the saltiness of his warm skin, wants to drop to his knees and nuzzle into the front of his pants. Wants to open his mouth and taste his cock through the fabric, musky and hot and filthy. 

His knees nearly buckle at the thought. He takes a shaky breath, then remembers that this is real and happening right now and he can’t let Nick have the first word when he’s technically in the wrong. 

Nick, with his cheeks dusted pink, sharp jawline clenching as his eyes run over Charlie’s body, down until they reach the skirt and back up. Charlie can see him swallow hard, throat bobbing and God, it must be a sin the way Charlie wants to bite, wants to mark him up, claim him so no one else can even get a look.

Instead of dropping to his knees, or biting Nick like he’s a piece of meat, Charlie comes to his senses and stutters out, “I’m - I was just. Looking for something?”

It comes out as a question, and he bites his lip, praying to fucking God Himself that Nick doesn’t call his bluff.

Nick takes his own shaky breath, no doubt noticing that Charlie isn’t holding a single thing. But instead of calling him out, he says, “Yeah, I. Me too. The printer, um.”

He shakes his head a bit, like he’s trying to clear it, and finally says, “I’m trying to print some new posters, at the library. Ink ran out.”

Charlie curses those old printers, but can’t help it when he quips, “Getting rid of those awful posters in your office?”

Nick actually laughs a little, and Charlie can feel the warm air of his breath hit his face. Minty and delicious. Charlie wants to devour him.

“Yeah, figured it’s about time,” he says and it gets awkward again, until Charlie says, “Oh, the ink is, um. Here it is.”

And he turns around without thinking twice, reaching to grab the ink off a top shelf. The box of ink cartridges is heavier than it looks, full to the brim, and he nearly tips the whole thing over until he feels Nick looming in close behind him. 

Charlie swallows a gasp as he feels Nick easily reach for the box above him. Their fingers brush together. The worst part is the attentive, sudden touch of Nick’s hand on Charlie’s waist as he wobbles for balance on his tiptoes. 

“Careful,” Nick breathes, nearly a whisper, and Charlie swears he can feel the man’s warm breath brush the back of his neck. A shudder runs through his body, and he fights the urge to lean his head back, rest it against Nick’s shoulder. Charlie wants to grab the back of his mentor’s neck and bring him in close, tell him, Kiss me. Bite me. Mark me up, please. He wants to press his hips back and grind against Nick’s cock, feel how big he is, if he’s just as affected as Charlie is. 

Charlie lets out a quiet, embarrassed laugh as he turns back around, giddy from their proximity and his nerves. Their bodies brush together as he faces Nick again.

Nick has the ink cartridge in his hand but their bodies are still so close. They’re both pink and breathless. Nick glances down at Charlie’s skirt again, like he can’t help himself.

Charlie gets even more red in the face, licking his lips and giving a shitty excuse, “Um, the skirt is. It’s nothing. I look stupid, I know. It’s just. It was a joke, and -”

“You don’t look stupid,” Nick says, interrupting his ramble. Charlie isn’t sure if it’s to save him from saying something even dumber, or another reason he can’t think of, but he can’t help what comes out of his mouth next. 

“What do I look like, then?” he asks, soft like it’s a secret. He doesn’t get the chance to react to his own stupidity because Nick replies instantly, like it flies out of him. 

“You look. It looks.. It’s very pretty,” his mentor says, swallowing hard. Charlie has to stop himself from gasping, but his mouth does fall open a bit.

Did Nick just. Did Mr. Nelson just call him pretty?

Charlie looks at him for a few seconds, watching as Nick’s face turns bright pink this time, mouth gaping like he’s trying to think of something else to say. To cover up what he just blurted out. 

But Charlie won’t let him. He’s always been the one to take risks, and this is the most tempting thing he’s ever wanted, in his entire life. 

“You think I’m pretty, Mr. Nelson?” he breathes, blinking slowly and tilting his head back a bit to look right into Nick’s eyes. They’re so close that Charlie can see each individual freckle on his nose, every speck of color in Nick’s eyes. Swears he can already taste his mouth, knows exactly how Nick would grab him for a kiss, if that hand on his waist earlier was any indication.

Touch me again. Please, please touch me.

Nick stares at him, glances down at Charlie’s pink, pouty lips and says, “I. You’re, um.”

It’s the complete opposite of how Charlie has ever seen Nick act. He’s usually stern, so confident, unyielding. For the first time, Charlie really considers the effect he might be having on his mentor. It makes heat travel down his body, settling low in his tummy. He’s already aching in his skirt.

Then, unexpectedly, Nick furrows his brow and asks, “Have you been smoking?”

Charlie gapes a little, his own cheeks going bright red again. It just hits him that if he can smell Nick’s breath, Nick can absolutely smell his, too.

He gives a soft laugh, going for incredulous, “What? Me? Where would I even get a cigarette on campus, Mr. Nelson?”

Nick narrows his eyes at him and nods his head knowingly. It looks like, Got you.

Then Nick licks his lips, slow like he knows Charlie is following his every move, and says quietly, “Don’t let me catch you smelling like one again.”

Or what? You’re gonna punish me? Make me confess to my sins at your office? The confessional? Charlie, once again, has to stop himself from dropping to his knees. 

Charlie bites his tongue, hard. But not hard enough to hold back the quiet, “Yes, sir,” he lets out.

He’s never called Nick that before even though, of course, he could. It just felt like too much, too close to what Charlie wants to call him in bed. It made all these confusing feelings actually seem real. But it’s too late to hold it back, now.

Nick stares at him again, his eyes going dark for a second before he seems to snap out of it. He nods at Charlie, his neck going pink, and clears his throat.

“Good,” he replies, and he fumbles for the door knob behind him. He licks his lips again and says, “I’ll leave, then you take a few minutes and leave after me. Okay?”

Charlie doesn’t understand at first, squinting at him. Then, it clicks. 

Nick doesn’t want anyone in the hallway to see him, the brand new, young mentor, walking out of a storage closet with a student in tow. Potentially his favorite student, who is blushing and wearing a school skirt. 

No wonder Nick closed the door behind him once he realized Charlie was inside. The implications were downright filthy. Sinful, even.

Charlie wants to tell him, We wouldn’t look this put together if I got the chance to do all the things I want to do to you. I can guarantee you that.

But he doesn’t. He holds the thought in his mind and just smiles at Nick, as innocently as possible.

“Yes, sir,” Charlie repeats, so softly. Blinks at him slowly, nearly batting his eyelashes.

See? I can behave. I can be so, so good, Mr. Nelson. The best you’ve ever had. 

Nick looks like he wants to say a million things. He glances down at Charlie’s mouth again, then nods to himself before he leaves the closet, shutting the door behind him.

Charlie takes a deep, shaky breath once he’s alone, realizing his legs are trembling from the nerves, the excitement. He leans against the wall and rests his eyes, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

Okay. So maybe, Charlie’s educated guess about being Nick’s favorite student hasn’t been completely wrong. 

Nick just caught Charlie red handed. He is somewhere he isn’t supposed to be, with no proper excuse. Wearing a skirt of all things, that absolutely belongs to another student. Reeking of cigarettes. 

But he’s not in trouble. If anything, Nick seemed to be flirting with him. He didn’t even seem to mind the smell of cigarettes. Was it intentional? Is this all just some big, sick joke?

Something tells Charlie that maybe, just maybe, Nick is struggling to keep his hands to himself, just like he is. The thought is alarming, overwhelming, intense. 

It takes Charlie’s entire breath away, the thought of Nick wanting him even a fraction of how much Charlie wants him.

He thinks about the rosary. Wonders if Nick got himself off that night, too, the rosary wrapped loosely around his fingers and his cock. 

Wonders if he thought about Charlie on his knees, the cross of the rosary upside down and resting on his stuck-out tongue. Waiting for Mr. Nelson to tap the thick head of his cock on it, sticky and sweet. 

Maybe he thought about Charlie underneath him, the boy begging to be saved, like Nick is God Himself. Begging to be touched, to be fucked, to be devoured whole like the body of Christ.

Charlie wonders if Nick sees him in the hallway or in his office and thinks, I’d ruin my entire life just for a taste of you. The way Charlie does, every single time.

There’s really only one way to find out. All Charlie needs is another cigarette.

Chapter Text

Charlie is still sweating, still mulling over everything that happened in the closet during his next class. The skirt is safe in his backpack for now; it’s precious and will have a very important job later. He texts Elle from under his desk;

hey it’s charlie x do you think i could bum a cig off you in a bit?

He considers his next text before thinking, Fuck it, and sends,

maybe some eye makeup too? :) 

Charlie isn’t sure if Elle will say yes, or if she’ll ask for more details, but it’s worth a shot. He can’t concentrate on a single thing in class; he’s so focused on coming up with a plan. His hands are shaking as he tries to take notes, leg bouncing under the table. He’s never felt jittery like this before. 

When Elle replies, he tries to hold back his relieved sigh, smiling at his phone.

oooh, yeah! wanna sneak into my dorm? i’ll meet you at the back of the building

Charlie has never snuck into the girls’ dorm, but the thought is exciting. How bad could it be?

okay! any tips?

Elle replies seconds later, and Charlie has to bite his lip so he doesn’t laugh out loud.

don’t get caught x

-

Charlie goes back to his dorm to shower before he heads over to the girls’ building. The weather is finally starting to cool off, and the wind feels so good on his clean skin. He’s wearing the regular uniform to not draw any unnecessary attention, but the skirt is still safely in his backpack. 

Charlie is surprised at how easy it is to sneak into Elle’s dorm. It’s on the first floor of the girls’ building, and there are tons of students around, but none of them even give him a second glance. He can’t tell if it’s because they genuinely don’t care, or because they’re intimidated by Elle, who’s practically dragging him by the hand into her room, but regardless, he’s grateful.

Elle’s dorm is very similar to his own, except for all the drawings and art on her walls. They look beautiful, so detailed and full of life. Charlie wants to ask if she’s an artist, if this is her own work, but Elle doesn’t let him get that far.

She turns to him as soon as he settles his bag on the floor and asks him, “Are you fucking someone?”

Charlie is so surprised that he’s completely speechless. He gapes at her for a few seconds, his cheeks burning before he replies, “What?”

Elle crosses her arms as she stares at him, a knowing smile on her face. “You’re fucking someone, aren’t you? Why else would you be asking me for a skirt and makeup at the same time?”

Charlie stutters, “That - That could just be my new style?” sounding like a dumbass, and Elle snorts.

“Yeah? Then why aren’t you wearing the skirt?” She asks, and Charlie’s face feels so hot he kind of wants to sit down. She got him there, and he’s not sure what to say because, technically, he’s not fucking anybody. Not yet, anyway.

His silence must speak volumes because she smirks. “You’re saving it for someone special, huh?”

Charlie groans, covering his face. “This is so embarrassing, oh my God.”

Elle laughs and gets closer, pulling him into a hug. “It’s not embarrassing! This is so exciting! Is it someone from the boys’ dorms?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows a bit. 

He leans into her hug, then groans again. He’s really not sure how to reply. This situation with Mr. Nelson is messy and intense, to say the least. He’s not sure how Elle would react if she knew the truth. Then there’s the whole dilemma of him not fucking anyone. Trying to seduce someone in particular, maybe.

“It is, but you can’t tell anyone,” he lies, pulling back from the hug to look Elle in her eyes. 

She squeals a little, jumping up and down. “I would never tell anyone! Okay, what makeup did you want to wear?” She asks, giddy like a little kid. Charlie kind of loves this side of her; she seems so excited and supportive. He’s not used to this kind of attention.

“Um, I was thinking maybe just some eyeliner?” He doesn’t want to overdo it. He just wants to seem more alluring. Maybe a bit older. Enticing.

They sit on her bed, and Elle nearly sits on Charlie’s lap –  carefully running the tip of her eye pencil over his water line, gently smudging it with her finger. She tells him about the first time she wore makeup – how she took it from her sister’s room and how she felt so much like herself when she looked in the mirror that it made her cry. 

Charlie nearly cries at the story, and she scolds him softly so he doesn’t ruin his makeup, even though she’s misty-eyed herself. Charlie hasn’t felt this safe with someone in so long. Maybe ever. 

Elle stares at him as she tries to decide if he needs more makeup. “You are so pretty, Charlie,” she smiles, tilting his head a little. “Your eyes are to die for. Whoever he is, he’s so lucky.”

Charlie wrings his hands a bit when she says the word pretty, thinking only of the way Nick said it earlier in the closet. So softly, like it was a secret that he just couldn’t keep to himself anymore. Charlie hopes he looks pretty enough for him, that this isn’t the dumbest idea he’s ever had.

“Well, you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, and I’m not just saying that,” Charlie tells Elle, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Don’t throw back compliments! Just accept them, Charlie,” she smiles. “You're a bad bitch and you deserve them.”

It’s so incredibly hard for Charlie to receive compliments, but he smiles after she says this, and blushing, he says a quiet, “Thank you.”

He watches as Elle opens her dorm window and lights a cigarette, watches as the smoke flies out into the evening sky from her pretty mouth. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, the coolest person Charlie has ever seen. He’s lucky to even know her. 

She passes him the cig, and he smiles, even though his hands are still shaking. As the plan comes together, he starts to become more and more anxious. He hopes the nicotine will help calm him down. 

Elle watches him for a bit as he smokes, taking the cigarette back from him. “You’re quieter than usual tonight,” she comments. “Are you nervous?”

Charlie smiles but shrugs, a bit frustrated that he’s such an open book. He hopes he’ll be able to keep it together later.

“A little,” he admits, craving the smell and taste of the cigarette already. He inhales deeply once he has it back in his fingers, shivering from the rush it gives him.

Elle is smiling as she watches him. Then, a mischievous look takes over her eyes.

“Do you need something else for your skirt?” she asks, and Charlie frowns at her, confused.

Then she says, “Let me guess. You’re wearing briefs with it?”

Charlie goes pink again and nods his head. “I mean, I don’t have anything else? And commando seems way too forward, even for me.”

Elle smirks at him, like this is the answer she was expecting. She takes a long drag of the cigarette and tells him, “Do you want some panties? My treat.”

Charlie gapes at her for the second time tonight, baffled as he takes the cigarette from her. “Panties?”

Elle laughs at his expression, getting up to open one of her drawers, “I mean, yeah! You’re already dressing up with the skirt and the eyeliner,” she raises an eyebrow at him, “Why not go all out?”

Charlie can barely react; his face feels so hot he might actually faint when she lifts a delicate little thing from her drawer. It’s not a thong, but it is smaller than his briefs by quite a bit. They’re black and lacy and Charlie is infatuated, at the same time that he’s incredulous. 

“I can’t take those from you,” he tries to argue, finishing the cigarette and standing up, “Those are so nice, Elle.”

Elle raises an eyebrow at him. “This is not nearly the nicest one in here, and I’m not gonna let you go to your sneaky link’s room wearing cotton panties.”

She lifts another pair, and this one is white and soft, made of cotton with a little pink bow at the top. Charlie has to sit back down this time, so many images of what he wants to do rushing through his head.

“Oh, but those are cute,” he says softly, biting at his lip. His legs are starting to bounce against the floor, the nerves starting to get to him again.

Elle rolls her eyes and says, “You have so much to learn, Charlie Spring.” But she walks over and hands them both to him, even though she’s shaking her head.

“Both? Elle, how can I..” he starts, and is surprised when he feels his throat start to ache, like he wants to cry. He’s never had a friendship like this before, and he doesn’t know how to repay her. Is this what friends do for each other?

Elle cups Charlie’s face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks a little. She presses a kiss on his forehead. 

“You don’t have to do anything. Just keep visiting me in the bathroom, and I want all the filthy details when you’re done.”

-

Charlie makes his way to Nick’s office with a new-found confidence, feeling more like himself than ever before. 

He knows Nick is in the office late tonight; he can see the lights on from under his closed door. The skirt feels perfect since Elle used a pin to secure it into place on his hips. She touched up his eyeliner before he walked out the door and called him a whore affectionately when he decided to slide on the lacy panties just before he left.

Charlie has never worn panties before, and now that he’s wearing a pair, he wonders why he hasn’t. It makes him feel powerful, like there’s nothing in the world that can stop him from getting what he wants. He feels completely irresistible, and that’s the confidence that helps him knock on Nick’s door without hesitation. 

He hears a soft, “Come in,” and braces himself before he turns the knob and lets himself in.

Charlie doesn’t notice any new posters on his walls, but he sees a stack of office supplies and posters strewn over Nick’s desk. His office is kind of a mess, which Charlie is surprised by. Nick has always seemed very clean and put together.

Charlie watches his mentor for a bit as he writes something down quickly and without looking up. Nick has clearly been in some sort of meeting because he’s wearing a tie for the first time. His shoulders look tense as he writes, and Charlie wants to massage them. He finds himself imagining being on the man’s lap, easing all his troubles and aches away.

Charlie shakes himself free from the thought. Stick to the plan, he tells himself and closes the door behind him. 

Nick glances up then, and the look on his face is nearly unrecognizable. He looks tired and stressed out, but underneath is a darkness that Charlie has only seen once, when Charlie had called him sir in the closet earlier that day.

That moment feels like years ago now. Charlie nearly flinches at the look until he remembers what he’s wearing. He’s struck by how unmoored Nick makes him feel, like he’s in a paddle boat floating out to sea. He craves that attachment to land, craves the security of an anchor to keep him stable. At the same time, he’s struck by how secure Nick has made him feel these past few weeks. It’s a dichotomy that overwhelms him.

Could Nick possibly be both? The roaring, severe ocean and the safe, serene strength of an anchor? Riling him up, then bringing him right back down again?

“Hi, Mr. Nelson,” Charlie says softly and makes sure Nick is watching when he locks the door. 

Nick is already standing, moving some things around on his desk without looking at them because his eyes are locked on Charlie. 

“Charlie,” he says, sounding serious. Then it’s like he makes a sudden decision, and nearly sighs, his tone changing. “What can I help you with tonight?”

Charlie swallows hard, his hands starting to shake again. He wants to stick to the plan but finds himself already losing track. 

“Is this a bad time?” Charlie asks quietly, and watches as Nick’s shoulders deflate a bit. Nick runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head slightly.

“No, it’s just,” the mentor starts, then sighs. “It’s late, and it’s been a long day.”

But it isn’t a dismissal. Nick starts to make his way over to Charlie, his eyes traveling down his body and back up again. Charlie squirms a little under the stare but takes a breath and stands firm, taking a few steps forward himself.

Charlie knows he looks good. He knows Nick wants him. Everything is set, and he’s going to succeed. He’s going to get what he wants. 

He licks his lips and asks, “Meetings today?” 

Nick smiles a little at that, touching his tie. He loosens it with a fist, and Charlie has to stop his jaw from dropping. This man is so absurdly hot it’s borderline insulting. The white button-down clings to his shoulders and his sleeves are pulled up like the first day Charlie met him. His forearms are strong, his hand thick as it wraps around the tie. Charlie wants to cry just looking at him. 

“Yeah. Long and boring and endless,” Nick replies, and Charlie wants to ask for more details but doesn’t. 

Instead, Charlie begins, “I wanted, um. To thank you for earlier. You left so fast, I didn’t get the chance.”

Nick looks at him, and Charlie wishes more than anything that he could read minds. He wonders if Nick is thinking about earlier in the day, how close their bodies were. Charlie takes a slow step forward. 

“Thank me for what?” Nick asks, and his voice has gone firm but quiet. 

Charlie takes another step forward, getting nearly as close as they were in the closet. He can smell Nick’s cologne again, faint after a long day of work, and it nearly makes him whimper out loud. Charlie tilts his head up to look into Nick’s eyes, trying to keep his breathing and shaky hands under control. He bats his eyelashes, knowing the eyeliner makes his eyes look dark, enticing.

“For calling me pretty,” Charlie murmurs. He can tell the moment that Nick smells the cigarette on his breath and shirt because the man’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. They’re both quiet for a few seconds, and Nick takes a step closer this time. The bottom of Charlie’s flared skirt brushes against Nick's dress pants.

Charlie’s instinct is to take a step back, but he doesn’t. He stands his ground.

“What are you trying to do, Charlie?” Nick asks so quietly it could be a whisper.  

Charlie bites his lip and asks, “What do you mean, Nick?”

The reaction is instant. Nick’s jaw clenches, his eyes going dark, brooding. Charlie has never called him by his first name before.

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” Nick says, low and rough like he’s berating a student and, well. Isn’t he?

It takes Charlie’s breath away. He licks his lips and says, “Does Father Nelson work?”

“Charlie,” Nick scolds, inching in closer, looming over his body. His face is starting to go pink from anger, his jaw sharp and tense, and Charlie doesn’t mean to, but he takes a step back, his breath coming out shaky. 

Nick looks so mad, right on the edge, and Charlie whispers, “How about daddy?”

Nick has him shoved against the wall within seconds. Charlie gasps, then moans when Nick grabs at his hips, pulling them away from the wall and back into it with a slam. 

“What the fuck are you trying to do, Charlie?” Nick demands, his voice just as quiet as before. His face is so close that Charlie swears he can already taste him. He digs his fingers into Charlie’s hips and stares at him, eyes unyielding – practically gritting his teeth.

Charlie wants to say so many things; he’s not sure if he’s pushed it way too far and if he should be asking for forgiveness, but he doesn’t want to apologize. He wants to beg.

“O-Oh,” he whispers, his fingers grabbing at Nick’s biceps and squeezing, leaning his head back to stare right back at Nick. “Please, please touch me.”

There are a few seconds where it feels like the world goes still, like it did back in the closet. All Charlie can see is Nick’s face, his hardened eyes melting into liquid chocolate, his jaw dropping a bit as it goes slack, his face the most delicious shade of pink. It’s like Charlie is watching his mentor’s carefully crafted control break down into pieces. 

Nick looks from Charlie’s eyes to his lips and back, like part of him is deciding what to do while another has already made the decision. 

Nick lets go of Charlie’s hips and quickly settles his hands on Charlie’s legs instead, sliding them up until they’re under the skirt. He kneads into the plump skin of his thighs, pulling their bodies close together.

Charlie lets out a noise that sounds like a sob, arching his back off the wall and trying to spread his legs, pressing up into the pressure of Nick’s body. 

Nick gasps a little like Charlie’s reaction is the sweetest, most sinful thing he’s ever seen. He squeezes at Charlie’s thighs and leans in, their lips seconds away from brushing together.

“Is this what you wanted?” Nick asks him, breathless and harsh, swallowing the moan Charlie releases. He pulls one of his hands away to grab Charlie’s chin and jaw, tilting the boy’s head back.

“Answer me,” Nick demands, rough and so quiet. His other hand keeps a firm grip on Charlie’s thigh, lifting it a bit as his fingers inch upwards towards his ass.

Charlie can’t help whimpering, trying to push his hips forward. His mind is going a mile a minute, and he tries to focus on Nick’s order, his legs starting to tremble.

“Yes,” he whispers, trying to lean his head forward for a kiss, but he can’t with Nick’s firm grip on his jaw. “Exactly this, please.”

Nick hums quietly, like he’s considering this answer until his fingers brush against lace. He stares into Charlie’s eyes, his own darkening and going wide as he runs his fingers over the fabric resting on his hip, the curve of his ass. Charlie goes as still as he can despite his panting, trying to see if Nick absolutely hates this or not.

Nick lets out a huff of air, incredulous, and presses Charlie’s head back against the wall, gently. He’s not gentle, though, when he pulls Charlie’s mouth open using the fingers pressed against his jaw. He murmurs, “You filthy little thing,” and finally, finally brushes their lips together.

Charlie moans, pulling tight at Nick’s dress shirt with both hands as they kiss. It quickly turns intense, long, and messy, and rough, Nick biting at his lips and humming around his tongue like he’s starving. Charlie keeps thinking, Is this really happening? Thank God, thank God, thank God.

“Please,” Charlie gasps once he’s given a chance to breathe, his nails digging into the muscles of Nick’s arms, “God, please.”

He isn’t sure what he’s begging for; he just knows that Nick understands because he dips his head to mouth at Charlie’s neck, teeth running over his soft, heated skin. He doesn’t bite or suck, and Charlie whimpers from the lack of pain; he wants to be branded like a lamb meant for slaughter. He runs his fingers into Nick’s hair and tugs. 

Nick groans, deep and guttural against the thin skin of Charlie’s throat, sensitive and divine. He hooks the fingers of his free hand into the neck of Charlie’s shirt and tugs sharply, the two top buttons of his uniform easily flying off, baring some of the boy’s chest. Nick’s tongue laves into the pretty dip of his collarbone, and he sighs as he takes a bite right underneath. 

Charlie instinctively bites at his own palm to muffle the cry he releases, but it’s still loud, trembling. Nick sucks at the bite until he’s satisfied, then licks a stripe up Charlie’s throat until he’s breathing hard against the boy’s mouth once more.

Nick grabs his jaw again and murmurs, “Stick out your tongue.” 

Charlie immediately obeys, flattening it against his chin. His eyes flutter back into his skull when Nick licks a stripe up his tongue, too. Filthy. 

Oh, I’m gonna come, Charlie thinks, his leg tightening around Nick’s thick thigh, grinding forward for some friction. Nick grips his thigh and ass closer, hard enough to hurt. Charlie is in Heaven.

“I’m gonna eat you up,” Nick murmurs against his still open mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, “Fucking devour you.”

“Fuck,” Charlie gasps, throwing his head back even as his lip is trapped between Nick’s teeth, and pleads, “Please, I’m all yours, eat me up.”

Charlie never thought he’d witness what happens next. 

Nick drops to his knees and, looking right into his eyes, nuzzles against the front of Charlie’s skirt, mouth open against the fabric. 

Charlie has to throw his head back against the wall again, shutting his eyes tight so he doesn’t come immediately. He sobs out a wanton moan; head tilted up at the ceiling as he chokes out a shaky, “Oh, my fucking God,” his legs nearly giving out.

Nick holds him up easily, hands firm on his hips, and he pulls away at that, blinking up at Charlie, breathless.

“Don’t use God’s name in vain,” he says, a slow smile taking over his swollen, red lips. 

Charlie actually laughs at that, a breathless, shaky thing, not believing this is his life. Butterflies flood his stomach, curling together with the heat of arousal as he remembers that this is Mr. Nelson on his knees for him. Holy shit.

He’s about to play along, say something like, Forgive me, Father, but then Nick’s mouthing at his skirt again, and he forgets how to speak in full sentences.

“O-Oh, I’m -” Charlie starts, fingers flying to land on Nick’s hair, but he stops himself short, not knowing if it’s allowed.

Nick blinks up at him again, slowly nodding his head before he lifts Charlie’s skirt. He moans, no doubt the view of Charlie’s swollen cock leaking through the lace a fucking sight to see. He allows the skirt to drop as he leans forward to mouth at him over the panties, the fabric covering his head.

Charlie chokes out a sob for real this time, one hand pulling the skirt up so he can watch, the other running into Nick’s soft hair. He’s panting within seconds, jaw dropping open at the sight.

Nick has his eyes closed and is lapping at the lace, moaning with his mouth full as he sucks on the head of Charlie’s pink, aching cock. There’s precome and saliva on his lips, so messy, and Charlie can feel his thighs start to tremble, the pleasure curling up his spine and making his back arch right off the wall. 

“Oh,” Charlie gasps, pulling hard on Nick’s hair as the familiar, tense longing for release starts to build and build and build, and he all but whines, “N-Nick, I’m - Sir, I’m not gonna last, I’m -”

Nick pulls off the lace with a filthy sound, licking his lips. Charlie whimpers at the loss, trying to buck his hips forward.

“Can you come for me more than once?” Nick asks like he’s asking about the weather, and a shudder runs through Charlie’s body. For the first time, he finds himself wondering, Holy fuck, what have I gotten myself into? Is firm, kind Mr. Nelson as insatiable as I am?

Charlie nods and babbles out, “Y-Yeah, I - Fuck, I’ll come as many times as you want if you keep talking like that.”

Nick gives him a smirk and says, “Noted,” before he leans forward to mouth at Charlie’s cock through the fabric again, sucking slowly, making soft kissing sounds. 

Barely five seconds pass before Charlie is gasping, pulling hard on Nick’s hair and whining a broken, “S-Sir,” as he comes. His back bows off the wall as he starts to shake, mouth open from the pleasure, moans spilling out of him. He watches in a daze as Nick hums, lapping up all the come that threatens to drip out of the lace. 

He looks so messy, so fucking hot, and then he’s pulling down the panties halfway, mouthing at Charlie’s happy trail.

Charlie’s cock hasn’t had the chance to soften, stirring inside the fabric from the feeling of Nick’s soft, hot mouth on his sensitive skin. Nick starts to suck around the base of Charlie’s cock, pulling the panties down so they’re resting mid-thigh. He seems to sigh when he realizes Charlie is still hard, sucking kisses up his shaft like he’s starving, eyes fluttering closed as he squeezes at his thighs.

Charlie thinks he might die. He’s still panting from his orgasm, hands shaking from the overstimulation. The view is absolutely the hottest thing Charlie will ever witness. His cock jumps at every slight touch Nick gives him, and he pulls on his mentor’s hair, moaning with his mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please?” Charlie whispers, shaky and yearning, watching Nick’s bright red mouth against his cock, his brown eyes dark from arousal. “I’m close, daddy, m’so close. Can I come?”

There isn’t an embarrassed bone in his body, not when Nick is humming and moaning against his flushed pink cock, looking like sin personified. Nick raises an eyebrow at him as if to say, Already? and sucks a kiss right under the head of his cock. 

“Please,” Charlie breathes, not wanting to come without permission, but he’s so sensitive, so close, his legs shivering. His tummy goes taut from trying to hold back.

Nick locks eyes with Charlie as he runs his lips over the head, catching a bead of precome on his tongue. He smiles a little as he murmurs, “So pretty,” and it hits Charlie like a truck. He lets go of Nick’s hair to bite at his hand as he comes again, practically untouched, whining a broken and muffled, “Oh my God, Nick.” 

The come lands right on his mentor’s lips, and Nick gasps softly in surprise but doesn’t hesitate to take Charlie’s cock into his mouth, humming like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, squeezing at his hips to keep him standing. Charlie is trembling all over, the sounds coming out of him muffled only by his hand, loud and desperate. He feels tears on his cheeks and realizes he’s never come this hard in his life. 

He’s still shivering when Nick slowly lets go of his cock, and gently slides the messed-up panties back into place. It makes Charlie groan, even just the thought of them being covered in his come and Mr. Nelson’s saliva making him want to go again. He feels like he’s floating, nothing but pleasure coursing through his veins.

It isn’t until Nick is standing and facing him again, his lips swollen and candy red, hair a mess, that Charlie comes back to his senses. He blinks at his mentor, licking his own lips, and Nick takes a hold of his chin again, gentler this time.

“Feeling okay?” Nick murmurs, checking in. Charlie goes breathless at the question, nodding his head.

“Y-Yeah, I’m - I’m okay. I wanna make you come, can I?” Charlie asks, not wanting to lose this opportunity. His hands land on Nick’s shirt, trailing down to his hips, starving for it as he begs, “Please, lemme touch you? Just once, I’ll be so good -”

“On your knees,” Nick says, so quietly, and Charlie drops to them instantly, his knees for sure getting bruised, but he doesn’t give a shit. He can’t feel the pain, can only focus on Nick staring down at him, big hands moving to undo his pants and zipper.

Charlie starts to salivate and leans forward to mouth at the fabric of his briefs, but a hand in his hair keeps him still. He whimpers at the restrain. 

“Please,” he whispers, licking his lips. Nick looks big even through the fabric and Charlie has never wanted to taste, to feel, to choke so badly in his life. 

“No,” Nick says firmly, tightening his grip on the boy’s hair. “You’ll take what I give you.”

A shudder runs through Charlie’s body again, moaning at the roughness of Nick’s voice. He wants to disobey, wants to take all he wants, but he’s going to be so good. He’s going to be the best that Nick has ever had, Amen.

Charlie nods up at him, trying to hold back from breathing harder, and sighs, “Yes, sir.”

Nick tugs hard on his hair just to watch him whimper, his eyes fluttering shut. The eyeliner has smudged a bit, and he looks a mess, on his knees with his skirt still pulled up, shirt ripped, and a blooming hickey under his collarbone.

Nick, on the other hand, is completely dressed. He pulls out his cock with one hand, groaning at the friction, and Charlie instinctively tries to lean forward again, mouth open. He was right, Nick is big and thick, and he knows it’ll make his lips and jaw ache, taking him down, but God, he wants it; he wants Nick’s cock down his throat, wants to know what he tastes like.

Nick pulls at his hair so hard that Charlie whines, being lifted higher on his knees. He shudders again when Nick murmurs, “What did I just say?”

Charlie gasps, licking his lips. He blinks up at Nick and breathes, “Fuck, you said. Mmm, you said I’ll take what you give me, please? Please let me still have it.”

His mentor hums, considering, and asks, “Are you going to behave?”

Charlie nods despite it hurting since Nick’s grip on his hair is unyielding. “I’ll be so good for you, please? Just wanna taste you so, so bad.”

It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks. I would die here for you, repenting for my sins forever. 

Nick starts to stroke his cock, a breathless moan slipping out of his mouth. The head is so thick, so pretty, Charlie can see precome beading right at the tip just from a few strokes. His mouth drops open, and he groans, fists curling into his skirt so he doesn’t touch.

Nick hums quietly, runs his thumb over the precome to spread it, sighing. He spits on his cock and groans as his movements become slick, the only sound in the room coming from his hand and Charlie’s desperate mouth.

This is torture. Charlie is sure of it. He whimpers with nearly every stroke, watching the veins in Nick’s hand and forearm, the way his cock starts to drip precome so easily, landing on the floor instead of his mouth. 

“Please let me have some, Mr. Nelson,” Charlie whispers again, breath catching at the desperation he feels. “Just a taste, I promise. I’ll be so good for you, please?” 

Nick moans quietly, so controlled, and murmurs, “Stick out your tongue,” just like earlier. 

Charlie sticks his tongue out immediately, blinking up at Nick slowly, trying to look as pretty as possible. He knows it must be a sight to see, looking so debauched and needy, praying for it on his knees. 

Nick groans again and taps the head of his cock on the flat of Charlie’s tongue, heavy and sticky. Charlie digs his nails into his palms so he doesn’t curl up his tongue, doesn’t even bring his tongue back into his mouth. Just moans, eyelashes fluttering.

“Fuck,” Nick swears and runs the tip of his cock over Charlie’s tongue like he’s cleaning the precome off using his mouth. “Just like this.”

Charlie can’t help but think about Communion. How droves of people line up in the aisles between the pews during every Mass to receive the blood and body of Christ. How much of a privilege it’s presented as, like they’re not just consuming a wafer and bad table wine, blessed by an old priest who probably isn’t fit to do the job, as impure if not worse than all the people lined up in front of him. 

This, is the true privilege. Being on his bruised knees, his prayers answered, as Nick drips pleasure all over his waiting, sinful tongue. 

Charlie is being so good despite his tongue aching to be brought back inside his mouth, saliva dripping off the tip of it. Nick groans, getting himself off at the sight.

He releases Charlie’s hair and grips his chin again, starting to pant.

“Swallow,” he instructs, and Charlie does, moaning at the taste, at the tension of this moment, his cock straining against the lace again. 

He sticks his tongue out again once he’s done, without being told, waiting patiently for more. Devout.

Nick groans low in his throat and whispers, “Charlie,” hushed like a prayer, coming all over the boy’s open mouth. He keeps moaning as he comes, murmuring, “Just like this, fuck. Good fucking boy.”

Charlie makes a broken, satisfied sound, not expecting it but so happy, panting like a puppy, tongue still stuck out as Nick paints his mouth. The sound of his name coming out of Nick like this, the sweet praise, desperate and so filled with pleasure, brings goosebumps to his arms. 

He licks his lips, swallowing every drop as best as he can, wanting to do the best possible job. He wants to change Nick’s entire life.

“Did I do good?” Charlie asks, still on his knees, eyes at half mast as he blinks up at Nick slowly, craving the praise.

Nick all but lifts him off the floor, pressing him against the wall again. Charlie whimpers at being manhandled, wanting Nick to lift him up like he’s a rag doll and have his entire way with him. 

Nick watches him closely, running his thumb over Charlie’s swollen bottom lip, sighing when Charlie licks over the pad of it. He hooks his thumb over the boy’s bottom teeth and murmurs, “So fucking good. Look at you.”

Charlie can’t look at himself, but it still makes him blush trying to imagine what he looks like. A fucking mess, no doubt, so desperate to please his mentor.

But Nick removes his thumb and kisses him, soft and sweet, and murmurs, “Perfect.”

Charlie’s knees nearly give out again. He clings to Nick’s arms so he doesn’t fall, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late. He’s falling, falling deep and hoping Nick will be there to catch him.

Nick helps put him back together again. He finds a safety pin on his desk and uses it to keep Charlie’s shirt together, hiding the blooming bruise on his chest, but not before he presses a soft kiss on it first. Charlie is shivering by the time Nick untucks his skirt, and uses his fingers to settle Charlie’s hair so he can be presentable again. 

Charlie is watching Nick in awe like he’s an actual angel standing in front of him. He’s never been treated like this before. He expected the roughness, the demands, the control. But he never expected this. How sweet, kind, and soft Nick would be to him afterwards. Charlie is rendered speechless.

Nick walks him to the door, the night sky dark and gloomy outside, signaling that Charlie should have been in his dorm at least an hour ago. Nick cups his face with one hand, brown eyes boring into his as he murmurs, “If you get caught, send them my way. I’ll handle it.”

Charlie nods, still struck by how this is ending, not wanting to say a thing in case it breaks the spell. He takes a moment to slide the panties off right before he leaves. Then he places them in Nick’s hand, closing his mentor’s fingers over it. 

The moment is so charged, so electric, that Charlie can practically feel the buzz. Nick stares at him like he wants to devour him all over again and slides the panties into his pocket for safekeeping.

Charlie swallows hard and finally whispers, “Good night, Mr. Nelson,” before he slips out of the room, not waiting to hear anything back or a kiss goodbye. He wants to savor the longing look Nick gives him, this feeling of need and want and more between them. 

When he gets back to his dorm, Charlie prays for the first time in years. He drops to his bruised knees at the foot of his bed, blinking up at the cross hanging on his wall, much like he was blinking up at Nick’s looming body a mere fifteen minutes ago.

He prays, Please, Lord, let me keep him. Please let me keep him, and I’ll forgive you for everything you’ve ever taken from me. Amen.

Later, when he’s in the shower, he comes again with Nick’s name in his mouth like a prayer, a hushed secret between him and God Himself.

Chapter Text

Charlie doesn't go back to Nick's office for the rest of the week. 

He knows how these situations end up when he’s too needy. He’s ruined so many parts of his life by being too much, and he’s determined to keep Nick at arm’s length until he gets a better grasp of their relationship. Thinking about how Nick must feel about him makes him anxious; it’s much easier to shut down. So he does.

He also feels safer from this distance, more guarded, more in control – like he has a birdseye view of the situation, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Because all he can think about is Nick.

It’s impossible not to. He finds himself dozing off in class, thinking about how big Nick's hands felt on his thighs, on his hips, on his jaw. How fucking good he smelled, all sweet from the cologne and warm from the sweat. Those eyes, dark chocolate staring up at him from his knees, and that candy-red mouth, smiling like he’s not completely ruining Charlie’s life. How Nick’s cock tasted, all heavy on Charlie’s tongue. The panties, stashed away in his pocket.

He wonders if Nick has touched himself since. If those panties have been wrapped around his cock, the rosary draped over the base. 

Needless to say, Charlie barely gets any work done all week. He finds himself touching that spot over his chest absentmindedly, where, in the heat of the moment, Nick had sucked a blooming hickey. It aches to the touch even days later and has faded into a light lavender color. Charlie finds himself hoping that Nick will show up to his dorm just to suck on the spot again, correct the fading, then disappear. Like Nick also can’t stand the thought of the mark going away.

He wants to be branded by Nick constantly. Claimed. Like he can’t possibly, ever belong to anyone else. The thought of the bruise fading is almost enough to make him visit Nick during the week, but he stops himself.

When Charlie sees Nick in the hallway or on campus, he tries to make himself small – ducks behind a wall or turns towards another direction, but he always catches a glimpse of him, sees how beautiful he looks. He’s always smiling, so polite to everyone he talks to, and Charlie wonders, not for the first time, if anyone else has spent time in Nick's office the way he has.

Did Mr. Nelson bring them to their knees, too? Made them beg for a taste that he barely indulged them with? Or worse, is Charlie the only one that had to beg? Is the rest of Nick being given freely to anyone who asks?

The thought makes jealousy curl deep in Charlie’s stomach, vile and acidic. He nearly throws up thinking about Nick touching somebody else when his own skin feels branded by his touch. He hates the visceral anger he feels towards this pretend person.

He wonders if Nick would feel the same way. If he saw Charlie with someone else, would he feel sick to his stomach, too? Would he want to damn that person to Hell and kiss Charlie until he’s breathless, say, You’re mine, mine, mine , against his mouth until Charlie believes it?

The thought makes Charlie’s legs go weak. He would give anything to be truly, wholly claimed. Truly wanted.

Charlie doesn’t visit Elle either, even though he’s desperately craving a cigarette and, if he’s being honest with himself, her company. She brings a comfort to him that he’s never really felt before, and something about it is overwhelming. Maybe even terrifying.

Charlie does text her, though. He tells her that the skirt worked perfectly and thanks her for the help. He doesn’t open her replies. He tells himself that he’s just feeling overwhelmed, is all. 

He spends the week dragging himself to class; dragging himself back to his dorm; questioning everything he’s ever done; contemplating life and how he’s gotten here. He spends too much time staring up at the cross hanging on his wall and asking Him questions that he knows will be ignored for all of eternity, like a bad phone call with shit connection. And just like that, it’s morning and time to do it all over again.

He ignores all the events on campus except for Mass. Everyone is required to attend, and he’s been in enough shit this year; he doesn’t want to deal with the Headmaster or a pompous Dean. He just wants it all to be over with.

Still, on the morning of, he sits on the edge of his bed, dressed up in his uniform until the moment he has to leave. He dreads it every single time. He knows every word the priest will say, every hymn, every harmony. The bible verses bounce around in his mind constantly, to the point where they don’t mean anything. Just a bunch of words some old fuck put together to organize people’s beliefs into a book. 

Sometimes, Charlie wishes he could believe – really, truly believe that there really is something out there willing to save him and wash away all of his sins. It would make the burden of living a little bit lighter on his shoulders if he could believe something was really out there – waiting to take him into Their arms and forgive him for being a disaster on two legs.

But he hasn’t forgiven this God, yet. He’s not sure he ever will. 

The only potentially exciting part about this Mass is the possibility of seeing Nick. Charlie has only seen glimpses of him during the week, but never enough to guess what he could be thinking. He has spent the past few days wondering himself to death about what locking eyes with his mentor again will feel like.

Charlie definitely did not prepare himself properly.

Seeing Nick again, really seeing him again, feels like getting punched in the gut or being thrown into a ravine with no warning. Charlie feels all the air escape him as he sits on the uncomfortable pew and finally catches sight of Nick. It’s alarming that everyone around him is just sitting still, bored, while his entire world is being rocked from just a glance.

Nick looks beautiful. No, he is beautiful. He’s so tall and his clothes are pressed perfectly, and he carries himself with so much confidence as he shakes people’s hands by the altar. It makes Charlie’s stomach hurt. There’s no way this man spent the past week thinking about him. Not the way Charlie has.

When Nick looks back towards the crowd, Charlie is staring right at him and catches his eye. Charlie’s first instinct is to look away, but he can’t. It’s like the room stops moving around them; everyone has gone still, the chatter has quieted, the band is no longer warming up their instruments.

Nick blinks at him slowly, and they’re too far away to catch any real details, but Charlie can nearly feel the mentor’s eyes pan down to his chest and back up. The only way he can describe the look Nick gives him is heavy. Heavy with what? Disappointment? Anger? Is it desire?

Just like that, the moment is gone. Someone else catches Nick’s attention, and he’s smiling at them, shaking their hand and talking as if nothing has even happened. Charlie’s legs start to shake from the adrenaline alone, and he fidgets with the missal in his hands, crinkling the pages with his sweaty fingers. He’s undoing the top button of his shirt to get some air when the idea hits him.

As a mentor, Nick has been sitting on the altar along with the other mentors and staff, studiously watching the practices of the church. Charlie has been staring at Nick during the service; there’s no doubt about that, but he refuses to make eye contact. He waits, like a good boy, until near the end of Mass.

When it’s one of the last chances they’ll get to look at each other, Charlie finally locks their gaze. It’s frightening, overwhelming, and intense – how the world seems to stop every time they even glance at each other. Like their pull is stronger than the force of nature itself.

Nick is staring at him from the altar, keeping a straight face since he’s in front of the entire faculty. But no one else is even glancing at Charlie, so he takes full advantage of that freedom. 

He slowly undoes one, two more buttons of his dress shirt, not looking away from his mentor for a second. He can see Nick’s jaw start to drop, and he catches himself just in time so no one will be concerned or try to catch what he’s looking at.

Charlie doesn’t undo his shirt all the way, though he wants to. Just enough so a hint of the hickey can be visible. He lets his mouth fall open a bit as he runs his fingers over the bruise, dipping them into his shirt and back out, trailing the touch back up his throat.

Charlie wants to know, desperately, if Nick remembers. Does Nick still care? Has he thought about Charlie since that night, even a little bit?

For anyone else, it would just seem like Charlie is overheating a bit and needs some air. Nick, though, understands perfectly. He knows exactly how that little bit of visible skin tastes, how it feels under his lips and teeth. 

Charlie brings his hand around his neck, palm resting gently against his throat. His mouth is still a bit open, and he licks his lips.

Nick’s stare turns deadly. His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are dark . It takes Charlie’s entire breath away. He allows himself to smirk, just a little, and watches as Nick just barely shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His eyes melt, though, into something that looks teasing, a little mean, like he’s saying, Oh, yeah? Is this the game you’re gonna play?

It makes Charlie feel a little nervous. Intimidated. But he’s mostly elated .

Nick hasn’t given up on him. Charlie has strayed so far away, and Nick is still interested .

Charlie bites his lip and raises an eyebrow, hand still against his throat. The ball is in your court.

Mass ends, and they’re both forced to look away and follow the procedures that the priest asks of them. Stand, sit, say a prayer, etcetera. Charlie could not give less of a shit about any of it. 

While waiting to be let out of the pew, Charlie finally gets a chance to look back at Nick. He is already staring at Charlie from the altar. 

Nick looks right at Charlie as he pulls the rosary Charlie gifted to him out of his pocket. Very carefully, he drapes the rosary around his neck. He takes a hold of the cross and stares at Charlie, giving it a kiss. Then, he tucks it and the rest of the chain under his dress shirt – pressed up against his warm skin, right against his heart.

Charlie’s legs nearly give out at the sight, and his jaw drops. He’s nearly pushed by another student to keep walking. By the time he looks back at the altar, Nick is gone.

But he knows what the rosary and that kiss means. How intimate the act of Nick tucking it away truly is.

It’s an invitation. Nick is waiting for him.

-

Charlie’s legs still feel weak as he makes his way to his mentor’s office. It’s a Sunday night, so the hallways are deserted. The only room with a barely noticeable light on is Nick’s.

He hesitates for a few seconds at the door, straightening his clothes, trying to get a grip on himself. He wants to appear confident. He wants Nick to take one look at him and know he’s been in control all along. 

Yeah, Charlie thinks, taking a deep breath, I’m in control.

He knocks on the door without another thought, not wanting to scare the confidence away. The soft, “Come in,” he hears is near instant. 

Charlie lets himself inside the office and leans his back against the door, making sure it’s locked. He keeps his hands behind his back, trying to look coy, and bites his lip.

His attempt is immediately thwarted, because Nick is sitting back in his office chair, elbow leaning on the armrest, chin and mouth hidden by his hand, watching him with dark eyes.

Charlie’s entire breath wooshes out of him at the sight. He’s used to seeing Nick typing away at his computer or even standing behind his desk, looking busy or stressed. He’s never seen Nick like this before. Like he’s prepared. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Nick’s eyes bore into his for a few moments, before they trail down his body, then back up. 

Charlie squirms under his gaze, feeling like he’s been cornered or trapped. A lamb awaiting slaughter once again. 

“Hi, Mr. Nelson,” Charlie all but whispers, voice catching in his throat. He knows his eyes are wide; his mouth is dropped open just a bit. He can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes, the anticipation of the silence killing him. All he can hear is the sound of his own breathing, his heart thumping in his ears, the clock ticking on the wall.

Nick waits for a bit like he’s in deep contemplation. Then, he murmurs, “Come here.”

Charlie’s legs are moving before he can think. Nick turns the chair as he gets closer, and Charlie realizes that Nick wants him to come closer, right in front of him. Charlie does so, and he’s barely arrived before Nick murmurs, “Get on your knees.”

Charlie drops to his knees, baring his teeth from the pain. He knows the bruises will be stacking up at this point. He blinks up at Nick and tries to control his breathing, licking his lips. The only light in the room comes from the lamp on Nick’s desk, and it makes the shadows more prominent, enticing. 

Nick looks like sin personified, staring down at him. He’s so relaxed, still leaning on the armrest, his eyes not straying from Charlie’s face for a second. His thighs are so big from this position, the fabric of his dress pants clinging to them, showing them off.

Charlie wants to touch him so bad, but something tells him he shouldn’t push his luck. Nick leans forward a bit and takes a hold of Charlie’s jaw, running his thumb over the boy’s bottom lip. Charlie allows his mouth to fall open.

Nick trails his hand lower, and gently takes a hold of Charlie’s throat. Charlie gasps softly, taken by surprise. He leans into Nick’s touch, his eyelids going heavy. He wants anything that Nick is willing to give him.

Nick watches him closely, thumb resting over his pulse point. Then he smirks a little, murmuring, “Look at you. Getting on your knees so quickly after putting on that little show during Mass.”

Charlie swallows hard, feeling it go down against Nick’s palm, and whimpers softly. He tries to follow his instinct, trying to be good now, and whispers, “I’m sorry, sir. I just wanted..” He’s at a loss for words. Nick fills in the gaps for him.

“You wanted what? My attention?” Nick asks, something like an ache flashing in his eyes, and Charlie instantly knows that he fucked up. He knows damn well, now, that if he had showed up to Nick’s office, he would have gotten all the attention he was desperately craving, and more. Charlie is in such a daze in this position that he can’t comprehend why he acted the way he did.

So he agrees. He licks his lips and nods. “I always want your attention, sir.”

Nick stares at him, deep in concentration. His thumb rubs circles over his pulse point, and Charlie is already shivering a bit, craving more of his touch. He wants to be devoured.

“Yeah?” Nick asks, so softly, “I don’t know if just my attention is enough. I think you need to be reminded of where you belong.”

Charlie feels the heat that’s been building inside him start to crawl down his chest and settle low, deep in his stomach, because it’s not a question. Fuck having the control. He wants to be owned. 

“Please remind me,” Charlie whispers, his knees aching as he squirms under Nick’s unrelenting gaze. 

I’m right where I belong. Right here, on my knees for you. Since the first time. I’ve prayed for this every night since.

Nick has no reaction other than his cheeks starting to bloom a rosy, pink color. He squeezes Charlie’s throat gently, just enough to make him whimper, then lets him go.

He leans back in his chair again and says, low in his throat, “Undo my pants.” 

Charlie’s hands are shaking as he obeys, slowly undoing the top button and the zipper. He makes a soft sound when he sees Nick’s black briefs, his cock already straining against the fabric, like just seeing Charlie on his knees is all he needs to get him going.

“Can I touch you?” Charlie whispers, wrenching his eyes away from the sight to blink up at Nick instead. 

He hasn’t stopped thinking about last week. How unfair it was to be in this same position and not have his mouth filled to the brim. He wants to be used up, choked on it. He starts salivating at the thought. 

Nick stares at him and quietly asks, “Do you think you deserve it?”

Charlie nods his head, licking his lips. Nick’s hand is in his hair within seconds, tugging his head backwards, tilting his chin up. Charlie whimpers, and can feel his cock twitch inside his own briefs, begging for attention.

“Really?” Nick murmurs, leaning in closer to his face. “You think you’ve earned it? With the way you teased me during Mass?”

Charlie lets out a shaky breath, whimpering again. He knows he’s been a mess, knows he’s made this difficult but he can’t think clearly about it now. All he knows is that he wants. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Make me earn it. I want to be so good for you, Mr. Nelson.”

Nick groans, but keeps the tight grip on his hair. Charlie’s breath comes out shaky, and he licks his lips again, blinking up at him. He mumbles, “Please? Just a touch. I’ll be so good, like last time.”

He wants more. He wants to devour Nick whole. But he’ll take what he can get. 

Nick stares at him, considering. Then he murmurs, “Pull me out.”

Charlie inhales sharply, but follows the order. His fingers are still shaking; the only thing he can think about is how much he wants. He tugs down Nick’s briefs and pulls out his cock slowly, jaw dropping at how heavy and full he feels in his hand. 

He licks his lips, wanting more than anything to nuzzle up against Nick’s cock. He wants to rub his cheeks, his lips against it, suck sloppy kisses on the tip, take him down his throat, choke on him. But he stays still, even takes his hands away, holding them behind his back once Nick’s cock is out, resting heavy and thick against his stomach. 

Charlie wants to look like the perfect image of a polite, good student. Mr. Nelson’s best boy. He blinks up at Nick slowly, and wrings his hands together behind his back, trying to hide how hard he’s starting to shiver.

Nick takes his cock in his hand and watches Charlie closely for a while – makes him wait. He licks at his palm and strokes his cock once, twice. Hums at the feeling.

Charlie thinks he might cry. This is so much worse. At least he got to taste, last time. He can feel himself start to pout and he tries to hide it by biting the inside of his lip, staring. Watching Nick move his hand back and forth on his cock, the prettiest drop of precome beading right at his slit. 

Charlie swallows hard to bite back a whine at the sight. Nick takes him by the hair with his free hand and brings him closer. Charlie’s mouth falls open a bit at the proximity. 

Nick murmurs, “I’m gonna use your mouth up, sweetheart. Are you going to behave?”

Charlie can feel his legs go weak at the pet name. His cheeks start to burn, and he whimpers so softly because he’s never wanted something so bad in his life, and he’s never been called that before. It kind of makes him want to cry again. That Nick is being so rough, yet so careful with him. Like he’s a porcelain angel cradled in Nick’s hands. 

“Yes,” Charlie whispers, voice already hoarse, so many emotions running through him. He shifts on the floor, trying to control his breathing, “I’m gonna be so good, Mr. Nelson. Please let me have it?”

Nick groans softly and says, “Show me that pretty mouth.”

Charlie opens up for him, and swears he can hear a choir of angels start a low, thrumming hymn in his ears when Nick finally, finally starts to press his cock inside his mouth. The relief of finally getting what he wants makes him throb inside his briefs.

Nick brings Charlie’s head down onto his cock, filling up his mouth halfway and holding him there. Charlie can already feel the saliva threaten to drip from his lips, and he swallows around Nick’s cock, whimpering at how full he already feels. Nick groans and lifts him by the hair, then back down, setting a slow rhythm as he slowly fills Charlie’s mouth up, deeper with each timed thrust.

Charlie is already moaning, his eyes fluttering shut as he gets lost in the feeling of being used. His lips start to burn, his jaw aching from the stretch, and he breathes out of his nose obediently. He runs the flat of his tongue against the underside of Nick’s cock every chance he gets until Nick presses in so deep that he can’t breathe, the tip of his cock brushing the very top of his mouth. There’s still so much more of his cock left over. God, Charlie wants him inside his throat.

Charlie swallows so he doesn’t choke, and the sound it makes is obscene. Nick groans, holding Charlie still for a few seconds longer. Charlie allows his eyes to flutter open, and he watches Nick lean his head back against his chair and moan, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” Nick sighs, lifting Charlie’s head up all the way with a messy pop. Charlie gasps at the sudden relief, breathing hard, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to Nick’s throbbing cock. 

“Jesus Christ,” Nick murmurs, holding onto Charlie’s jaw so he can run his thumb over those red, swollen lips. “Fucking look at you.”

Charlie licks at his thumb and nearly bats his eyelashes when he mumbles, “It’s Charlie Spring, actually.” His voice is already hoarse, his mouth aching from the stretch, but he wants more.

Nick lets out a soft, surprised sound. It’s so sweet, like a little laugh, and he’s tugging on Charlie’s curls again, humming low in his throat as he smiles, “You’re such a little shit.”

Charlie smiles back, biting his lip to stop his own giggle but fails. Especially when Nick pulls harder on his hair, making him gasp and let go of his lip. Charlie hisses a little, really starting to enjoy having his hair pulled. He’s so hard that it aches.

Nick watches him for a few seconds, then smirks a little. “I’m gonna put that mouth to better use.”

Charlie nods his head as best as he can, and opens up his mouth again. Nick swears under his breath at the sight and runs the tip of his cock over his plump lower lip. Charlie moans and sticks his tongue out, wanting more of a taste. Nick sighs and taps the head against Charlie’s tongue instead and murmurs, “Fucking made for it,” before he presses back inside his mouth.

Charlie thinks this might be Heaven. There is something so deeply satisfying about being used. Goosebumps start to rise on his arms, his eyes fluttering shut again, moaning as his jaw aches. Nick pulls him down, down, down until Charlie’s mouth is entirely full, his throat burning from the strain. He tries to swallow again, but it doesn’t work, and he chokes. 

Charlie’s moaning even as Nick quickly pulls him off his cock, taking a hold of his jaw. Charlie coughs, his eyes stinging from unshed tears, and he whimpers when Nick holds him back from diving in for more.

Nick shushes Charlie gently as he coughs and tries to say something, maybe to soothe him, but Charlie is already complaining at the loss.

“Please don’t stop,” he whines softly, trying to nuzzle into Nick’s hand on his jaw, “I really like it, please?”

Nick seems to go breathless at the admission, and he tugs on Charlie’s hair again, making him hiss and arch his back. 

“You want to choke on my cock, sweetheart?” Nick asks, his voice so low, so dark. 

“Please,” Charlie whispers again, biting at his swollen bottom lip, “Want you to use me up.”

Nick leans forward and, still holding Charlie by the hair, gives him a soft kiss. It’s nothing wild, just a messy peck, but Charlie’s entire stomach erupts with butterflies, and he can feel himself start to drip precome, his briefs getting ruined.

“Filthy,” Nick murmurs against his mouth, then adds, “Grab my thigh if it’s too much, okay?” 

Charlie would pay money to grab at Nick’s thick thighs, but he knows damn well he won’t be doing that. He nods anyway, trying to be so good, the best, and Nick brings him back down again.

It starts a pattern that feels obscene. Nick pulls him down by the hair, lower and lower, until he’s sure that Charlie’s mouth could not be more full, threatening to fill up his throat, and holds him there. It’s only a few seconds at a time, but to Charlie, it feels like minutes. Hours. Still never long enough. 

Just as he feels his body relax, settle in to never breathe again, Nick pulls him right off, and Charlie gasps for air, licking at his lips and trying for more. Nick will fist his cock as he holds Charlie back, then bring his boy’s head back down as soon as his whines start to get too loud.

That goes on, and on, and on. Over and over, holding Nick’s cock deeper each time, like that’s where it belongs. Choking Charlie nearly every time until his lips are aching, his cheeks red from lack of air, his eyes teary. Charlie doesn’t touch his thighs once.

Nick keeps murmuring filthy things. When Charlie takes him down deep, he groans low in his throat, “Oh, you’re fucking made for it, sweetheart. Just for my cock. Fuck.”

When Charlie is gasping for air, saliva attaching his lips to his cock, Nick says, reverently, “Gorgeous. So fucking beautiful, baby boy. Look at you.”

Charlie can barely process the words because he starts to float. There’s nothing else on his mind but the feeling of being used. Being devoured, while he’s the one devouring. On his knees, worshiping Nick exactly the way he’s always wanted to. Drool drips from his mouth and pools at the base of Nick’s cock, the only sounds in the room coming from his filthy mouth, his abused throat, and Nick’s deep, gorgeous approval in moans. It sounds like prayer to Charlie’s ears.

Charlie doesn’t realize it’s happening until it’s almost too late. He feels so much pleasure rushing through his body every time Nick holds him still, calls him a name, or swears for Jesus Christ under his breath that when he feels his orgasm approaching, he nearly lets it happen.

But his mind screams, You’re being good, you’re trying to be so good. Did Nick give you permission to come all over yourself while on your knees like this? Are you going to disobey? Like last time?

He doesn’t think so, can’t remember, and next time Nick pulls him off with a filthy pop, Charlie whimpers with a broken voice, “I’m - I wanna come, Mr. Nelson, can I come?”

His cock aches inside his briefs. He can feel himself throb even as he talks about it; the relief would be so sweet. 

Nick holds him tight by the hair, panting, and murmurs, “Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.” Charlie suddenly realizes that this is his punishment. Not getting to choke happily on his mentor’s cock. It’s having to wait.

“O-Oh,” he whispers, squirming on his knees, “C-Can I - Can I touch myself?” 

Nick leans closer to give him another kiss, and he palms at Charlie over his uniform shorts. Charlie trembles at the warmth, the pressure, and he moans against Nick’s mouth, rocking forward into the touch. 

“No,” Nick answers firmly, cupping Charlie’s cock in his hand. “Just me. You’re mine tonight, sweet thing.”

Charlie lets out what can only be a sob, spreading his legs for more when Nick pulls his hand away.

“N-No,” he protests, leaning his head back with a whine, “I wanna - Oh, please touch me, daddy.”

The title slips out, and Nick groans like he's been punched. He kisses Charlie deeper this time, sucking on his bottom lip, and murmurs, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Charlie whines so sweetly, but he hums in satisfaction when Nick brings his head down again. Nick presses his cock back into his mouth so easily, and Charlie moans for it, slackening his jaw and relaxing his throat. His eyes flutter shut as he gets filled up again and again, like a fucking dream come true if it wasn’t for his own cock aching inside his briefs. 

Charlie can feel the precome start to drip down to his thighs, and he has to make an actual effort not to come untouched. His eyebrows pinch together from having to hold back, the feeling of Nick fucking his mouth consuming him from inside out. He feels like a rope, taut and strung tight – like one simple touch will cause him to snap in half. 

He’s drooling all over Nick’s cock by this point, decorum completely shot out the window, and he barely chokes, just feels himself teetering at the edge with each deep thrust Nick gives him. He starts to imagine how hard Nick would fuck him, how big he is, how long he’d need to be stretched for, if God would be in the room, and nearly comes on the spot. 

Nick pulls him off his cock, swearing under his breath, and Charlie realizes he’s been moaning continuously. It finally reaches his ears when his mouth is free, and he starts to pant, grabbing at Nick’s legs for an anchor.

Nick murmurs, “Oh, just look at you, sweet boy,” and starts to stroke himself again, hand in Charlie’s hair to hold him close, but he doesn’t even need to, because Charlie is whining for it, leaning forward to pant against the head of Nick’s cock.

“Please,” he hears himself beg, his voice completely shot as he stares up at Nick’s face with dark eyes, then back at his cock. “Please, I wanna taste it, want it in my mouth.”

Nick moans like he’s in pain, and tilts Charlie’s head back by the hair, groaning. “Yeah, stick that pretty tongue out. Gonna make you even prettier.”

Charlie does, tilting his head back even further, and moans when the come starts to hit his tongue. He doesn’t dare pull it back inside his mouth, just moans muffled and wanton, eyes nearly rolling back at the feeling. Like all he’s good for is this right here, being a vessel for Nick’s pleasure. Thank you, God, Amen.

Nick rubs the head of his cock over Charlie’s messy tongue and mouth as he comes, groaning deep in his throat, murmuring low things in his throat like, “Yeah, just like that, stay just like that for me, baby boy.”

When Nick is done, he watches his come drip from Charlie’s bottom lip, from the tip of his tongue, and onto the floor. Nick leans over him, humming low in his throat, and murmurs, “Filthy.” Then he looks into Charlie’s eyes before he drops spit from his own mouth right onto Charlie’s waiting tongue, adding to the mess. The view of Nick’s come and spit on his pink, swollen mouth is obscene.

Charlie can barely hear the gravelly, “Swallow,” over his own moans, because he nearly comes on the spot. He digs his nails into Nick’s thighs to hold himself back, and he swallows easily, the taste of come and spit and Nick Nick Nick the only thing on his mind, goosebumps rising on his arms. He wants to open up his mouth again, beg for more of it, the feeling of Nick’s hot saliva sliding down his tongue something he’s deeply craving now.

Charlie is near tears by the time Nick hauls him onto his lap. He’s shivering, trying to grind forward against his mentor’s lap, his stomach, anywhere he can reach, but Nick doesn’t allow it. He grips Charlie’s hips, hard, holding him still and shushing him softly.

He digs his nails into Nick’s shoulders, whimpering, “Please, please let me, I’m so close.”

Nick hums quietly, cupping Charlie’s jaw again. He ignores his pleas and licks into his mouth instead, long and deep, tasting himself with a groan. Charlie melts into it, runs his fingers up the back of Nick’s head into his hair, trying to bring him impossibly closer, wanting to disappear into him. 

Nick shushes him again when they part, and Charlie once again realizes he’s been moaning nonstop, panting against him. 

“You can wait,” Nick murmurs against his mouth, slowly undoing his shorts, “I did, didn’t I?”

Charlie whimpers softly, feeling his face flush. He tries to reply, tries to make sense of why he stayed away, why he didn’t come back the very next day. But all he can do is press his hips forward into his mentor’s hands and whisper, “I..”

Nick hums again, making a rough sound once he realizes how soaked Charlie’s briefs are. Nick looks back at him, his eyes dark and aching like earlier in the night, and says, “You know I stayed here late, hoping you’d show up?”

It takes Charlie by complete surprise. He gasps when Nick tugs down his briefs and tucks them just under his balls, just enough for his cock to spring free towards his stomach, getting precome all over his uniform shirt. 

“You - You did?” Charlie asks, shivering hard when Nick runs the tip of his finger up the underside of his cock, gathering the precome dripping down. Nick taps the finger gently against the tip of his cock, and grabs Charlie’s hip tight when it makes him nearly jump off his lap, cock twitching with a loud gasp.

“Every night since,” Nick murmurs, and slips the tip of his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. Charlie’s eyes widen, and he moans, trying to rock forward again.

“Please,” he whispers, breath shaking. “I want - Oh, I just wanted -”

“What did you want, sweetheart?” Nick murmurs. “My attention, yeah? Is that what we established?” He runs his thumb up to the tip of Charlie’s cock, sighing when more precome leaks out, milky and hot over his fingers.

Charlie nods, unable to think of a better reply than, “Always, I always want your attention. I’m - please, just let me -”

“Do you think you have my attention now?” Nick asks and takes Charlie’s cock in his hand, watching as his eyes roll back.

“Yes,” Charlie gasps, rocking into his fist. “Yes, daddy, I do. I have it, please -”

“Isn’t this better?” Nick murmurs, leaning forward to breathe against his mouth, their lips brushing together. “Better than shutting me out?”

Charlie lets out a choked sound, thighs starting to shiver from how close he is, trying again to grind forward, and Nick allows it this time, even gives him a proper, wet, sticky stroke.

“Please,” Charlie begs, tears welling in his eyes. “Daddy it’s so much better, I won’t - Please, I won’t do it again, oh God, please -”

“Yeah?” Nick whispers. “You’re gonna come right to me when you want me?” 

The tears fall, the desperation reaching a new height, and Charlie nods, his nails digging into the back of Nick’s neck, and he feels the rosary, tucked under his dress shirt, and he sobs, “Yes, I’ll - I’ll be here, I’ll - fuck, daddy, I’ll be here waiting, right on my knees, just for you, please.”

Nick groans deep in his throat and murmurs, “Such a good boy. Let it go for me, sweetheart,” and Charlie nearly blacks out from the strength of his orgasm, his come spilling over Nick’s fist and his dress shirt. He throws his head back, and Nick just catches his shout with a palm pressed tight against his mouth. 

Charlie bites him hard, sobbing in relief, the pleasure so heightened that it feels like he’s floating, like he’s grown wings, like he’s an actual angel flying towards the gates of Heaven, granted entry, granted freedom. It hits him in intense waves, making him breathless, and he chants Nick’s name muffled like a prayer with each one, so devout, rehearsed like a hymn, vibrating in his ears.

Charlie is still floating, still shaking with relief when he feels his body being pulled in, and he’s enveloped with warmth, soft shushing sounds all he can hear past the roaring of blood in his ears, strong arms consuming his body, and he thinks, Have I been saved? This must be what Heaven feels like, my own Heaven. 

Charlie finds himself repeating words in his mind, the Spanish prayer woven into his veins like his own blood; Padre Nuestro que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre, venga a nosotros tu reino.. 

He isn’t sure how long it’s been, maybe seconds, maybe hours, when he can start processing what’s going on around him. He nuzzles into the warmth in front of him, not realizing it’s Nick’s neck until he feels that his body is being held. He can feel big hands roaming up his back, settling on his hips.

Charlie nearly startles himself into sitting up, until he realizes that Nick is humming.

It sounds so beautiful. So sweet. It’s a song that Charlie doesn’t recognize, and it makes him nuzzle even closer against Nick’s neck, sighing softly. Nick takes in a shaky breath, and runs one his hands up Charlie’s back, until he’s cupping the back of his neck.

Nick keeps humming. It’s so soft and gorgeous that Charlie feels himself shiver. He takes a chance and slowly wraps his arms around Nick’s body, and for a second he tenses, waiting for the ball to drop, for Nick to shove him off. 

But Nick just sighs, and curls his fingers into Charlie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. He murmurs, “There you go, sweetheart. Just relax for me,” and Charlie can feel all the tension start to slip out of his body, dripping off him like rain from a shingled roof. He nuzzles against the man’s warm skin, breathing him in, allowing himself to be held for the first time in years.

Nick starts to hum again, his fingers so gentle in Charlie’s hair, such a contrast to the rough pulling from earlier, it almost feels like an apology. Charlie fears that he might actually fall asleep, so he tries to say something to keep himself awake. 

“Your voice is so pretty,” he whispers, and his own voice is absolutely shot, hoarse, and aching. He loves it, loves the reminder of being on his knees.

Nick lets out a soft, shy laugh that gives Charlie butterflies. He runs his fingers through Charlie’s curls and says, “Yeah? Your voice is sounding pretty, too.”

Charlie feels himself start to blush all the way to the tips of his ears, and he whispers, “Shut up, this is all your fault.”

Nick laughs for real this time, squeezing the back of his neck gently. Charlie shivers from the touch, pressing back against his hold and he smiles, feeling the laugh vibrate through Nick’s chest and right into his.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining very much earlier,” Nick points out, and Charlie pulls back from his neck to stare at him, mouth open in fake shock, smacking his shoulder. 

“Nick!” he exclaims, groaning when his voice nearly breaks, and he feels the blush travel down to his neck and possibly even lower, glaring at him. “That’s not very Godly of you!”

Nick laughs again, holding his waist tight in his hands, and says, “Well, lying is a sin, and it’s just the truth, sweetheart.”

Charlie can feel his stomach go warm at the pet name, and he instantly forgets that he was trying to be mad. Maybe it’s because his body is so relaxed and warm from being held. His mind is lost in the daze of Nick’s affection. He can’t believe this is the same man who had him choking, and had him so nervous that he couldn’t bear to see him for a week.

He blinks at Nick slowly and says, “I like it when you call me that.”

Nick’s eyes soften, and he cups Charlie’s jaw in his hand, so gentle like he’s made of porcelain. His cheeks start to go pink, and he almost looks shy. “Yeah? It’s not too much?”

Charlie leans into the touch, and follows his sleepy instinct to cup his fingers over the back of Nick’s hand. He shakes his head slowly and whispers, “Not too much.”

Nick watches him for a little while, like he’s contemplating so many things. Charlie closes his eyes for a bit and allows himself to be held, settling into Nick’s strong arm wrapped around his waist. Nick pulls him in closer and asks, softly, “How are you feeling? Was this.. Has any of this been too much?”

Charlie slowly opens his eyes to see Nick watching him, so earnestly. He’s so beautiful, and so careful that it makes Charlie feel dizzy. He shakes his head and whispers, “I’m good. None of it has been too much.” He can feel his cheeks warm up, wanting to say, This is perfect. You’re perfect. Exactly what I need.

Nick runs his thumb over Charlie’s bottom lip, the way he seems to be called to do every time. Charlie just nuzzles closer into the hand on his cheek, and allows himself to be touched, to be admired. His stomach feels like a butterfly sanctuary.

Nick hums quietly, running his hand up Charlie’s back before settling on his waist again. He squeezes Charlie in his hold, like he’s trying to decide if he’s real. He asks, so quietly, “Then why’d you stay away?”

Charlie feels himself tense up a bit, and Nick says a soft, “Hey, shh, none of that,” like he’s trying to soothe a frightened animal from running away. He tightens his grip on Charlie’s waist, letting go of his jaw to run his fingers back up into his curls. Charlie’s eyes flutter closed at the touch.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Nick assures him, “But don’t..” He swallows hard, like he’s trying to find the words, and Charlie is slightly taken aback. Seeing Nick look flustered or even shy is something so new to him. Something he never thought he’d see.

Charlie runs his hands gently up to Nick’s shoulders, ignoring all the soiled spots on the fabric, trying to soothe him back. It seems to work because Nick takes a shaky breath, and gives him a small smile. 

He continues, “Please don’t shut me out. I - I missed..” he starts, then shakes his head, trying to word things properly. “I like seeing you in my office. During the day. It - I was worried.” His face is so pink, all of his freckles swallowed by the hue as he swallows hard again and pushes on, “I get worried when I don’t see you.”

Charlie needs a minute to process what he hears. He watches Nick closely as if he’ll disappear right before his eyes if he even glances away. He’s not sure that his mentor is a real person, that he could even be real in his mind, let alone in the real world. It hadn’t crossed his mind, not a single time, that Nick could have been feeling this way. He’s so used to being secondary in people’s thoughts that it didn’t occur to him that Nick would worry. That Nick would miss him.

Charlie’s hands reach Nick’s neck, and he gently runs his fingers over the warm skin there, dips them into the collar of Nick’s shirt to touch the rosary with his bare fingers. The beads are so warm from being pressed against Nick’s skin, and Charlie suddenly wants to press his whole body against him, wants to suck up all of that warmth for himself. He shivers at the thought and runs his thumb over Nick’s pulse, feeling his heart beating wildly there, and realizes he still hasn’t said a word in reply.

Charlie looks back up to Nick’s eyes, brown, and beautiful, and centered on him, and leans forward to brush their lips together. It’s barely a kiss, so soft that they barely connect, but he feels warmth radiate through his body at the touch. Nick sighs softly against his mouth at the touch, and Charlie doesn’t back away.

“I won’t shut you out,” he whispers, the tips of their noses brushing together now, “I’ll come and visit you again, I promise. I won’t - I’ll try not to stray too far from you.”

Nick leans forward so their lips really catch this time, and it’s Charlie’s turn to sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. Nick gives him kisses, soft pecks that vary in length, cupping the back of his neck protectively. It feels like, thank you and also feels incredibly surreal. Charlie isn’t sure that he deserves this, but he allows himself to melt into Nick’s touch, his presence, his affection. 

His lips feel like they’re vibrating when they finally part, and Nick runs his thumb over his bottom one again, his eyelids hooded. He watches Charlie like he’s a work of art, and murmurs, “So beautiful. Just look at you.”

It’s such a contrast from being called beautiful while he’s on his knees. He’s doing nothing but sitting on Nick’s lap now, being kissed. Being adored. His entire face feels like it might explode, and he shakes his head a little, shyly whispering, “Nick..”

Nick smiles at him now, giving him another kiss just because he can. “I like it when you say my name,” he says softly. “Sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth.”

Like a prayer, Charlie almost says, but holds himself back. Instead, he leans forward and cups the back of his mentor’s neck, running their lips together again as he whispers, “Nick, Nick, Nick,” and Nick kisses him silly, until he’s practically a puddle on his lap.

-

Charlie arrives at his dorm wearing one of Nick’s clean dress shirts. The sleeves are too long, and he melts as he leans back against his closed door, thinking about how Nick had gently rolled them up so they wouldn’t cover his hands. 

Nick had kissed his knuckles once they were free from the fabric and murmured, “That’s better.” Charlie had nearly cried.

He ducks his head to breathe in the collar of Nick’s shirt, instantly soothed by the smell of his cologne, like the scent permeates all of his clothes just by proximity. Charlie closes his eyes and thinks about how Nick did up all the buttons on the shirt, and left one open at the top so he could press a soft kiss there, right above his collarbone. 

Charlie shivers and smiles at nothing before he blinks up at the cross hung on his wall. He doesn’t drop to his knees this time, but he closes his eyes. Breathing in Nick’s shirt, he whispers, “Thank you. I owe you one,” in case the Holy Spirit decides to be present this one time.

Then he pulls out his phone with shaky hands and scrolls through the various unread texts from Elle. He runs his thumb over the screen, like he hopes she’ll feel his silent apology, then decides that he’s tired of pushing away people who give him affection. He deserves this. He must deserve this. Doesn’t he?

Charlie quickly types out a message, feeling his face flush from being so vulnerable, and sends it.

hey. i’m sorry i’ve been MIA. blame the trauma, lol. do you want to meet up this week? totally fine if you can’t, or if you’re sick of my excuses. lmk 

He adds in a heart emoji, the first one he’s ever sent her, and taps the screen off, feeling naked and embarrassed. It wouldn’t surprise him if he’s succeeded in pushing her away. 

Charlie has barely set his phone down on his nightstand when it lights up with a reply. 

of course i wanna see you, silly goose! i have a pack of cigs with your name on it. wanna meet up during study hall? x

Charlie smiles big and bright, and it softens as her next text appears.

u can’t push me away, charlie spring. i can hear your big heart thumping all the way from here.

Charlie holds the phone against his chest and wipes at his eyes. He hopes that the thumping in his chest really is loud enough for her to hear and that it will convince her to stay, too.

Chapter Text

Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh, my God.”

That, too, is a form of worship.

Warsan Shire

-

Charlie wakes up feeling refreshed for the first time in months. There isn’t a feeling of dread keeping him stuck in bed. Other than his aching throat, he genuinely feels good.

It’s an odd feeling, but one he welcomes with open arms. He had fallen asleep wearing Nick’s shirt because it smelled so much like him, and it felt like being held. He smiles at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the refreshed hickey just under his collarbone and how the shirt seems to hang off his body. He considers wearing it to class just because he can, but he remembers he’s seeing Elle today and decides against it.

The situation is a bit strange. Charlie feels a deep connection to Elle and, truthfully, he wants to tell her everything. He wants to ramble and rant and gush about Nick, about how beautiful he is, how sweet, how fucking hot , but knows he shouldn’t. Whatever is going on between him and Nick is so new and divine, and Charlie isn’t sure he’s ready to tell anyone about it. It feels special like this, like it belongs to just the two of them. 

He doesn’t let himself think about the real reason he’s not boasting about Nick to Elle. It’s too complicated, and he’s too invested in his own joy today.

Charlie has a few classes in the morning, but he’s mostly in his head, thinking about what he’ll say when he sees Nick again. When he finds himself in the hallway outside of Nick’s office before class, he fights the deep urge to stay away, to create distance between them. He feels nervous, as if they didn’t just speak to each other last night. 

But Charlie remembers what Nick said; how he gets worried and likes to see him in his office during the day. So Charlie pushes through. The door is open, and he sticks his head inside, smiling at the view.

Nick is finally hanging up his freshly printed posters on the walls. He’s humming quietly, and his shoulders look relaxed. He looks at home in his own body. Charlie’s never seen him like this before.

Is it because of me? he thinks, and flushes at the thought. There’s no way. Right?

“Morning, Mr. Nelson,” Charlie says softly, his voice still rough from last night, and Nick turns to look at him. He looks surprised at first, but slowly, a big smile takes over his face. 

“Good morning, Mr. Spring,” he replies, and sits on his desk, facing the door. “What brings you in today?”

Charlie bites his bottom lip, then decides to be a tease. “I was just wondering,” he says quietly, trying to make his hoarse voice sound worse but barely needing to make an effort because it really does hurt to speak, “If you had any cough drops.”

Nick’s face does something adorable. His jaw drops and his cheeks turn that pretty shade of pink, but once the shock is over, he smirks.

“Yeah? Is your throat sore? You sounded fine yesterday.”

They both know this is a lie. Charlie’s voice has been hoarse since the moment he choked on Nick’s cock the first time. And it had happened again, and again, and again.

Charlie can feel his face grow hot, the warmth traveling down to his neck, his stomach aching with the sudden want that rolls through him in waves. Fuck. He wants it again. Wants to feel the strain in his throat, wants to be breathless, wants to be on his knees begging for it. He’d repeat the entire night forever if he could.

Nick’s eyes quickly grow dark, and paired with his smirk, it makes Charlie’s knees go weak. He licks his lips, and knows that Nick is thinking about the same thing, because the man’s eyes are glued to his mouth. 

God. Charlie has never wanted someone so badly in his entire life. 

Charlie swallows hard and softly says, “I think I used it too much last night. But it was worth it.” 

Nick hum, and with that same smirk, murmurs, “Yeah? You used it?”

Charlie wants to say, You used it. You used my throat until it was raw and then kept going when I begged you to. Then you spit in my mouth and made me beg, cry to come. I came again wearing your shirt last night and woke up wearing it this morning. I still smell like you.

But the door is open; Charlie can hear students and teachers in the halls, knows anyone can pop their head in at any minute, can’t believe Nick is asking him this question, knowing damn well he can’t reply the way he wants to.

Nick raises an eyebrow at him, and Charlie knows this must be what karma feels like. 

He’s speechless, and his face is burning as he glares at Nick. 

Nick smiles at him like he’s delighted. 

“Don’t strain yourself trying to explain, Mr. Spring. I have cough drops especially for you,” he says sweetly and gets up to grab them from his desk drawer. 

Charlie watches as Nick walks towards him. He puts his hand out for them so he doesn’t open his mouth for Nick to set a drop on his tongue the way he deeply wants to.

“Fuck you,” he murmurs when Nick is close enough, embarrassed and needy and not able to do a thing about it, and Nick genuinely laughs. 

“Mmm, maybe later,” Nick replies quietly, watching Charlie’s mouth again. It’s another invitation.

Charlie wants to scream. But he tries to seem in control and whispers, “Yeah, okay. I’ll be back later.”

Nick takes it a step further. He gently taps his pointer finger just under Charlie’s chin, and murmurs, “Good boy.”

Charlie has to practically drag himself to his next class, breathless and aching.

-

Charlie manages to calm himself down by the time he has study hall, but just barely. His legs are still a bit shaky, and he fights to stop thinking about Nick and his filthy smirk, and being called his good boy in the daylight. There’s something so obscene about it, and Charlie fully intends on getting his revenge later.

Thankfully, he’s distracted by making his way over to the girl’s building to meet up with Elle. He’s about ninety-five percent sure he’s not supposed to be here, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He just wants to see Elle. The moment he sees her in the giant study hall, which is essentially a massive library, he practically runs over to where she’s sitting. 

Elle beams at him and squeals, “There’s my favorite little slut!” 

Charlie laughs, and they hug as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. Which, really, is the truth. Charlie suddenly feels the intensity of his guilt, and while he’s breathing in her delicious smelling hair, he whispers, “Ugh, I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole.”

Elle smacks him gently on the shoulder as they part and takes him by the hand so they can find a more secluded table. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it,” Elle says, smiling at him. 

Charlie frowns a bit, sitting in the chair next to hers and saying, “I’m so serious, I was such a dick for no good reason, and -”

“Sweetheart, it’s water under the bridge,” Elle says, swatting her hand like she’s brushing off anything else he has to say on the topic. “You’re here now, and I’ve got a gift for you.”

She pulls out a packet of cigarettes from her bag and sneaks it into his hands. The carton is decorated in colorful flowers and stars, the sun and the skies. Like it’s a personal heaven. 

Charlie giggles as he looks at the art on the carton, hiding it between his hands. He’s so excited to smoke later in his room and can’t believe Elle has granted him this pleasure. He grins at her and says, “This is the best and prettiest gift I’ve ever received.”

Elle laughs and motions for him to put it away, but her smile is beautiful and so contagious. “It’s just some doodles. I wanted it to look cute for you.”

“You consider these just doodles?” Charlie asks, his jaw hanging a bit. “They are gorgeous, Elle. You’re so talented.”

“Oh, stop it,” she says, but she starts to blush, and Charlie wishes he could paint to find the exact shade of her skin. He finds her breathtaking.

“I’m so serious!” he says, sliding the carton into his bag easily. “You must be going to college for art, right?”

Elle fans herself like the attention is becoming too much, but she grins, “I actually am. I got accepted early.”

Charlie’s jaw drops, and Elle has to practically cover his mouth so he doesn’t shout when he exclaims, “Elle! Oh my fucking God! That is incredible!”

“Shh,” she giggles and says, “You’ll get us in trouble, plus it’s gonna ruin the rest of your pretty voice! Do you need cough drops?”

Charlie flushes, remembering Nick, and tries to return to the subject at hand. “I’m fine! Elle, this is amazing. I am so happy for you!”

Elle looks delighted by his joy and says, “Thank you, you’re the sweetest. You’ll have to come visit me at my accommodation!” She rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing like this place. No neanderthal rules and that white man hanging on a cross everywhere.”

Charlie snorts out a laugh, both of them covering their mouths so they don’t cackle too loudly. Charlie whispers, “Oh my God, so all the walls won’t crumble and shake when we walk inside?”

Elle giggles into her hands. “Nope, we can sin all we want over there. No confessions required.”

“Amen to that,” Charlie says, rolling his eyes at the thought. He can’t remember the last time he confessed. It’s an archaic, stupid rule, and he doesn’t care about receiving Communion, anyway. Let them eat their crackers; he’d rather die than confess all his sins and wrongdoings to a priest. The old man would probably keel over if Charlie ever got started, anyway.

His thoughts are interrupted by Elle asking, “Which school are you planning to attend after this shithole?” 

Charlie blushes, and starts playing with his hands. “Oh, I’m not sure. I have a few ideas but - I don’t know, I don’t think I’d ever get in.”

Elle frowns at him and asks, “What do you mean? Why on earth wouldn’t you get in?” 

Charlie fights the urge to stay in his head and keep it all to himself. He’s never had someone else to talk to about this, and he trusts Elle implicitly. He chews on his bottom lip, then explains.

“I just want to get into any college so I can get away from here and my father can get off my ass. I’ve applied to a few safe choices that I’m pretty sure I’ll get into, but.” He shrugs. “They’re just random, y’know?”

Elle watches him closely and asks, “But what do you want to study? Like, if you could work in any field, no questions asked, what would you choose?”

The answer to this is easy. Charlie still feels a bit embarrassed admitting it because it feels so far-fetched. 

“I want to write and direct movies,” he says quietly, smiling through his blush. “I know it’s silly, but -”

“That is not silly!” Elle says, her mouth dropped in excitement. “Oh my God, you should go for it, Charlie! What’s the worst that can happen?”

Rejection. Being a failure and proving my father right.

Instead, he shrugs and says, “I don’t have any experience, so it makes applying to film school daunting because I have nothing to submit.”

Elle blinks at him. “So create something.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Create - like, a whole movie? By myself?”

Elle shrugs and laughs at Charlie’s horrified expression. “Well, not like an entire three-hour movie, but. How about a short film? And you don’t have to apply to a bougie film school, either. My college has a huge film community, and I could help you apply.”

Charlie stares at her for a while, then back at his hands. “I mean - I don’t have the equipment? Or anywhere to rent it around here. And like, the deadline for applying to most colleges is so soon. I don’t know if I’d have the time.”

Elle rolls her eyes fondly and says, “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Your phone is powerful enough to film, and I know you know that because you’ve talked my ear off about Tangerine and how Sean Baker filmed it using phones.” She pulls out her agenda and flips through the calendar. “Plus, it wouldn’t have to be finished by the time you apply. It would be like a portfolio, you know?”

Charlie isn’t used to people actually listening when he speaks or helping him, so this makes him blush and consider her words very closely. What she said about Tangerine being filmed with phones is true, and that was at least five phone models ago. The one in his pocket could probably do the job even better now.

Charlie has always wanted to write films, and direct them, but always felt like he wasn’t enough to get the job done. Any behind the scenes footage he’s seen of his favorite films seem like they took an entire village to create, and he’s always been alone. He’s not an artist, so the thought of a storyboard always overwhelmed him. 

But hearing Elle talk about it so casually makes him reconsider the way he’s been looking at it. It’s a lot of work, definitely, but thinking about it as a whole movie as opposed to each step he has to take has definitely overwhelmed him. 

“Yeah. I guess that’s true,” Charlie says softly and looks at her for a while. He’s been so inspired by her since the moment they met on campus; this fireball of a girl, stuck in this strict and common place and surrounded by people who don’t understand her. People who genuinely hate her and the woman she is, and think that she shouldn’t be thriving. But she still does, in spite of it all. 

“Would you be in my film?” he asks, feeling the thrum of inspiration begin to vibrate through him. He suddenly can see images of shots he’d like to remake – her in their personal bathroom, skirt pulled up, cigarette between her lips, smoke billowing around her like a spirit. Her sly smile as she applies more makeup than she’s allowed to, blowing everyone’s beauty out of the water with just a hint of eyeliner. 

Elle’s mouth drops open, then melts into a huge grin. “Oh, my God? What are you planning? Of course, I’ll be in it! You’re going to make me a star!”

Charlie laughs, shushing her as people’s heads start turning towards them, and he says, “You’re already a star. That’s kind of the point!”

They spend the rest of study hall talking about Charlie’s untitled film. Elle pulls out her sketchbook as they discuss potential scenes Charlie wants to shoot and helps him draw up a basic storyboard to help him decide where the plot, if any exists, is going to go. He hasn’t felt this excited to create something in his entire life. It’s never felt so possible with Elle by his side.

There’s a moment where the room around them seems to fall silent. The sun streams in through the windows at the perfect time, shining down on them and their collaborative art. Charlie has to hold back tears because it feels like everything is falling into place around him. All the broken pieces of his life, all the sorrows he has faced, the sacrifices, seem to all come down to this one moment of serendipity. How has he been so lucky to land right here, with this brilliant girl by his side?

Charlie finds himself hoping for the first time since he was a kid. That things really will work out. That his life will have a meaning past being a front for his family, that he will be appreciated for all that he brings to the table. It feels good, and special, and when he kisses Elle on the cheek before he leaves the table, she reassures him that she will be right there waiting for him during the next study hall so they can continue their process. It feels like the beginning of something truly beautiful.

-

Once his classes conclude for the day, Charlie heads back to his room for a quick shower and a cigarette. It feels like he’s been running around all day, the excitement of his film resulting in a sweaty shirt, and he absolutely refuses to show up to Nick’s office looking and feeling anything less than perfect.

Charlie’s skin hums as he scrubs himself clean, feeling a different sort of excitement take over him at the thought of seeing Nick again so soon. His throat still aches a bit, but the hickey is a bright reminder as ever. His hands shake as he runs his fingers over it and hopes that Nick will give him more and more and more. 

Charlie isn’t sure what to do to get back at Nick for the little stunt he pulled earlier in the day. He feels himself flush just thinking about it. He wants to tell Nick absolutely everything that he had to hold back this morning, and so much more. 

He decides to put on Nick’s shirt again. He smiles as he rolls up the sleeves, breathing in that delicious cologne that makes him see stars. Goosebumps rise on his arms as he buttons himself up. Looking in the mirror, wearing the loose shirt and some comfy grey sweatpants, his curls still damp from the shower, makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

Charlie wants to be irresistible. He wants Nick to take one glance at him and want to rip his clothes off. 

“Mmm, maybe later,” plays in his mind on repeat. What did Nick mean by that? Would he really fuck Charlie right on his desk? Charlie can barely breathe at the thought, the want so intense that it climbs up his throat and sticks there. 

Charlie blinks at the cross above his bed and asks Him, Will Nick do it? Will he really fill me up the way I want, if I ask for it? If I plead and get on my knees like a good boy, will he give me what I desire? Will it be my own form of sacrament, to beg him for it in the quiet of the night and do exactly as he says to make it happen? Teach me how to make him beg.

He once again compares himself to Adam, the man who allowed God to reach inside and pluck out a piece of him. Did he allow that because of love? Was it devotion? Was it just because God asked, and how could he ever look him in the eye and say no? 

Charlie doesn’t think he could say no to Nick if he tried. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants all of Nick, and he wants Nick to consume him in return. 

Eat me up, he thinks as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. Sink your teeth into me and take anything you want. It’s all for you. 

-

By the time Charlie arrives at Nick’s office, he’s half hard from anticipation alone. Charlie knows he’s young, but he’s never felt this insatiable in his life. Part of him hopes that Nick won’t be able to tell; another, sinful part of him hopes it’s obvious through his sweatpants. 

It doesn’t really matter, though. Because the moment he walks into the office and locks the door behind him, he undoes the top button of Nick’s shirt he’s wearing. 

Charlie can hear the sharp intake of breath Nick releases as he walks towards the desk, locking their eyes. He slowly starts to undo all the buttons, one at a time at a leisurely pace, like he has all the time in the world. And he stares right at Nick as he does it, slowly baring his chest for the man as he gets closer.

Nick’s eyes are so dark that he might as well be glaring at Charlie, so focused and intense. His mouth is open as he takes in the view, his eyes running up and down his chest, down to his thighs and back up. He pushes his chair back from the desk as Charlie arrives, the last button is undone at the perfect time.

Charlie stands in front of Nick for a few seconds, allowing him to stare, have his fill. Then, he slowly hooks his knee around the outside of Nick’s thigh and straddles him on the chair without a word.

They’re both quiet, aside from their strained breathing. Charlie is trying to hold back from panting as he holds the shirt open and runs his fingers down the middle of his chest to his stomach. Nick is staring at him like he’s a meal, his pupils dilated like he’s a wolf, barely holding back from baring his teeth. Charlie squirms on his thighs, humming at how thick and warm they are under his own. He thinks about riding Nick’s cock like this one day and barely bites back a whimper.

Nick doesn’t touch him. He has his hands on the armrests of the chair, staring at Charlie’s pretty hips, his bare chest, and his pink mouth. But he doesn’t make a move. Charlie starts to squirm because he just wants Nick to touch him, getting breathless from the anticipation.

Charlie runs his hands up Nick’s chest, over his shoulders, and slowly rolls his hips down. Nick makes a sound akin to a hiss but still doesn’t move. He just tilts his head back to stare into Charlie’s eyes, his eyelids going heavy.

Charlie shivers in his lap, running his nails up the back of Nick’s neck, and allows his mouth to open with a soft moan as he grinds forward again, their lips brushing together. Nick’s jaw drops a bit, and he groans deep in his throat, spreading his legs so Charlie can have more space to grind against.

Charlie rocks down against him in a slow, filthy rhythm. He can feel Nick getting hard and makes it a point to grind his ass right over his cock, his own pressing forward against the man’s stomach with each move. He whimpers quietly and runs his fingers into Nick’s hair, tilts the man’s head back to pant against his mouth. 

Nick makes soft sounds but doesn’t react otherwise. His restraint is something Charlie admires and something that frustrates him half to death. He wants Nick to grab him, to feel his big hands on his ass, and the thought makes him whimper again. Charlie lifts his hips off Nick’s lap just to press them back down again like he’s riding his cock. Even just the movement makes goosebumps break out on his arms. 

Charlie moans as Nick’s breath catches against his mouth, their lips brushing together again, and Charlie breaks like shattered glass.

“Please,” he whispers, leaning his head back as he bounces on Nick’s lap, whimpering, “Please, I want your hands. Please touch me?”

Nick’s hands are on his hips within seconds. He brings Charlie down against his lap hard during his next bounce, and squeezes him tight enough to bruise. Charlie whines.

“Where do you want my hands?” Nick murmurs against his mouth, helping him lift up and down.

Charlie chokes out a broken sound and moans, “Grab me, fucking - God, I want them on my ass and my thighs and -”

Nick grabs Charlie’s ass with both hands, so tight that it makes him shiver, and brings their hips together in a filthy, rough grind. Charlie frowns at how good it feels, sobbing out a soft sound. Nick swallows it with his mouth but doesn’t kiss Charlie back when he bites at his bottom lip.

“Please,” Charlie pants, grinding down deep and filthy. “Kiss me, kiss me, I want -”

Nick kisses Charlie with a groan, licking inside his mouth so easily. He digs his fingers into Charlie’s inner thighs, dragging his nails across the fabric of his sweatpants, and Charlie arches his back, all but mewling into Nick’s mouth. His own nails run down the back of Nick’s shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“Yeah? Just my hands got you like this, hm?” Nick murmurs and gives Charlie’s ass a sharp smack that makes him gasp. “What else do you want?”

Charlie is lost in the thoughts running through his mind, he wants so much, and he starts whispering, “I want - oh, fuck, I want -”

“Say it,” Nick practically growls, smacking his ass again and tugging his body in so close. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Your mouth,” Charlie whines and throws his head back, baring his throat. “On my neck, on my - my chest, my cock, my -”

Charlie stops speaking with a gasp when Nick runs the flat of his tongue from his collarbone, up his throat, to his chin. Nick takes a bite when he’s done and groans like he’s starving. Charlie shivers hard in his arms, remembering their first time together, and sticks out his tongue.

Nick smirks and runs the flat of his tongue over Charlie’s the way he did before, squeezing the boy close as he shudders.

“Fucking needy,” Nick murmurs fondly, running his hands up the back of Charlie’s shirt. “Gagging for it since that first day, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Charlie breathes, nodding and agreeing. “Since I first saw you, fuck.”

Nick hums quietly, like he knows, and murmurs, “Yeah. My little slut,” and latches onto the hickey just under Charlie’s collarbone.

Charlie nearly bucks off his lap. He lets out a rough sound and tugs hard on Nick’s hair, making him groan against his skin. Nick sucks on the skin until it aches, running his teeth over it, then laps at it with his tongue when he’s satisfied. 

He holds Charlie’s squirming hips in his hands and blinks up at him. “Mmm, say it. Say you’re my little slut,” he whispers, and Charlie thinks he might scream tonight.

“I’m - Oh, I’m your little slut, daddy, I’m all yours,” Charlie gasps and throws his head back when Nick keeps mouthing down his chest, sucking hickeys every few inches like he wants to brand him. Charlie cannot fathom how much he wants this.

“Please, yes, fucking -”

Nick laughs, running his teeth over one of the bruises. “What, sweetheart? You want me to mark you up?”

Charlie nods his head and tugs on his hair. “Please, I want - Fuck, I want you to own me,” he babbles, leaning his head back again, baring his chest. 

Nick takes a shaky breath and moans against Charlie’s skin, grabbing at his hips. “Baby,” he whispers, reverent. “Are you - Is that what you really want?”

Charlie feels like his entire body is on fire. Baby. He gasps out a shaky moan and nods, grinding down as best as he can, fighting the grip on his hips. 

“Yes, fuck, I - I want you to claim me. I don’t wanna belong to anyone else,” Charlie practically sighs, feeling strung tight like a rubber band, his thighs shivering. 

Nick moans again and digs his fingers into Charlie’s lower back, pulling their bodies together. He closes his mouth around Charlie’s nipple, and his eyes flutter closed, humming quietly.

Charlie tugs hard on Nick’s hair, arching his back towards his mouth, and he gasps, his eyes rolling back.

“Oh, my God,” Charlie whispers. Nick rolls his tongue over Charlie’s nipple, teeth grazing over the sensitive spot before he latches on and sucks. 

Charlie whines loud enough that he might be heard through the walls, but he doesn’t care. His hands are trembling.

“Please,” he whines, “Want your mouth everywhere, please -”

Nick latches on to his other nipple, and Charlie’s thighs nearly give out. He stops grinding, just allows Nick to move his hips back and forth the way he wants, and he watches Nick suck on his nipple while he moans against his skin. 

Nick tugs at Charlie’s nipple with his teeth gently and smiles when Charlie hisses and tightens his legs around his thighs, arching his back into Nick’s mouth. Nick brushes his lips over the bruised bud and breathes over it, murmuring, “Where else did you want my mouth, sweetheart?”

Charlie is so pink in the face, embarrassed, and softly whines, “I already told you,” and gasps when Nick sucks another hickey just under his nipple.

“Yeah? Maybe I forgot,” Nick says quietly and runs his tongue over the bruise.

Charlie shivers hard in his arms and whimpers before closing his eyes and sighing, “I want - want your mouth everywhere, daddy, I -” He swallows hard, trying to spit it out despite feeling so shy, as if he can’t feel Nick’s cock growing hard under his ass with each filthy grind, can’t feel Nick’s bruising grip on his hips and ass.

He lets out a moan that sounds like a choked sob and breathes, “I want you to taste me, I want - Your mouth on my cock, please, just a little bit -”

Nick instantly grabs Charlie by the thighs and lifts him up. Charlie gasps, holding onto his shoulders, and Nick sets him down on the desk effortlessly. Charlie is breathless when Nick leans up to give him a soft, messy kiss.

“Good boy,” he murmurs and starts mouthing down Charlie’s chest again, humming at all the new skin he can reach at this angle. He sucks on the small ridges of muscle on Charlie’s stomach, laps at his rib cage (Where God reached inside of Adam, where He took a part of Adam’s body just because he could), runs his teeth over the trail of hair just under Charlie’s belly button, and spreads his thighs with big hands. 

Charlie thinks he might die. The moans flying out of his mouth sound glorious – he knows it – and when Nick curls his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, he starts to shiver hard.

“Please, get me - I wanna be naked, I want you to swallow me up, your mouth is so nice.” Nick hums against his happy trail, sucking kisses on the sensitive skin as he pulls the fabric down. He groans when he realizes there’s no more barrier, and Charlie’s cock is hard and leaking and pink, curling up towards his tummy.

Charlie starts panting just from seeing Nick’s mouth near his cock, and he squirms forward, licking his lips. Nick hums and presses a warm kiss just under the head, smiling when it makes Charlie whine, precome beading at the tip.

“The prettiest cock,” Nick murmurs and tugs the sweatpants down until the waistband is snug under Charlie’s balls, bare and pretty. 

Nick blinks up at him and mumbles, “Tell me more.”

Charlie licks his lips, trying not to squirm too much. “M-More?”

“Mhm,” Nick all but hums, squeezing his hips. “Tell me what else you want me to do to you.” 

Nick runs his thumb up the base of Charlie’s cock, watching his back arch towards him at the gentle touch. He smiles and continues, “If you stop talking, I’ll stop, too.”

And Nick dips his head and runs the flat of his tongue from the base of Charlie’s cock, all the way to the tip. There’s a string of precome connecting the tip of Charlie’s cock to his tongue, and Nick moans, licking his lips. Charlie shudders hard, moaning low in his throat and trying to wiggle his hips forward. 

Nick doesn’t move towards him. He bites at his plump bottom lip and holds Charlie’s hips back with a tight squeeze that aches . Charlie whines, wanting so much more, and he’s not sure why Nick is holding back until it hits him that what Nick just said was an order.

Charlie gasps. “Oh, I want - Will you suck me off? Please, I want -”

Nick takes Charlie’s cock into his mouth as he hums, slow and steady, until the tip touches the back of his throat, until his lips brush against the base. Charlie’s eyes roll back, and he presses a hand behind himself on the desk, the other curling loosely into Nick’s messy hair.

“Just like that,” Charlie sighs, his thighs shivering. “Oh, fuck, please keep. Keep me in your throat, fuck.”

Nick doesn’t budge from his spot. His eyes are closed, and he makes a soft sound, Charlie’s cock so comfortably nestled inside his mouth, in his throat. Charlie has to hold back from panting, but it barely works, his breathing shaky and fast as he runs his fingers through Nick’s hair.

Nick starts to pull off, and Charlie realizes he needs to keep talking, and he babbles, “Your mouth - Fuck, I want your mouth on me all the time.”

Nick sucks a messy kiss on the tip of his cock, before taking him back down. His fingers grab at Charlie’s thighs, spreading them further and squeezing tight.

Charlie whimpers softly, already feeling like he’s so close as Nick bobs his head up and down, slow but sucking so hard. The tension is intense, and Charlie never wants him to stop, so he leans his head back and babbles, “I want - God, want you to eat me out.”

Nick moans nearly as loud as he does, popping off to breathe. He leans forward to mouth at the underside of Charlie’s cock, sucking kisses on the pink, swollen, sticky skin. He blinks up at Charlie and hums, his lips sucking a kiss at the base.

Charlie mewls, trying to buck forward but unable to, and breathes, “I think about it all the time. I want - Fuck, I wanna ride your mouth.”

Nick moans and pulls away from his kisses to murmur, “Jesus, baby,” before he laps at the underside of Charlie’s cock again. The precome drips down until it touches Nick’s tongue, and he moans, sucking it clean.

Charlie wants to make a joke, maybe, about using God’s name in vain, but instead he chokes out a sob and says, “I wanna hold onto your headboard, and - Mmm, look at the cross while I grind down on your face.”

Charlie knows it might be risky to mention going to Nick’s room - he’s not sure how Nick feels about it, but Charlie has been thinking about it for days. Getting used up in his mentor’s bed, messing up the sheets that smell so much like him, face down in his pillow as he gets fucked from the back. Looking right at the cross above Mr. Nelson’s bed, that every room on campus has while he rocks down against that filthy, pink mouth.

Nick groans like he’s in pain and dips his head to mouth messy kisses on Charlie’s balls, sucking them into his mouth, and Charlie nearly squeals at the feeling, trying to grind forward with no success. Charlie’s panting for sure now and starts trying to slow down the pleasure in his body so this can last longer, can last forever. But he knows it’s futile when Nick looks like this, sin personified and lapping at his cock like he’s starving, lips swollen and cheeks pink, his hair a mess as he blinks up at Charlie with dark, intense eyes.

“Please,” Charlie whispers, eyes rolling back when Nick takes his cock down into his mouth again. “Daddy, I’m close, I want your fingers so bad, I want,” he whimpers, feeling Nick’s tongue expertly curl around his cock. “I want you to fuck me.”

Nick moans around his mouthful, bobbing his head smoothly from the base to the tip like it’s effortless. The noises he makes are absurd, sweet sounds of kissing and sucking, saliva slicking up all his moves, letting out shaky groans when he finds a good rhythm, the vibrations making Charlie shiver hard.

“Please?” Charlie begs, going breathless and pulling on Nick’s hair, “Will you fuck me, daddy? You’re so big, and I want - I wanna be full, mmm, my fingers aren’t enough anymore b-because I keep - oh, fuck - I keep thinking about yours.”

Nick’s moans are nearly as constant as Charlie’s as he takes him down deep and holds his cock in his mouth, swallowing easily. Nick’s face is all pink, down to his neck and up his ears, and he looks up at Charlie with heavy eyelids, his mouth so full, and Charlie doesn’t stand a chance.

“Fuck, c-can I come?” Charlie gasps, pulling hard at Nick’s hair with both hands. “Please, daddy, I’m - I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, please?”

Nick doesn’t stop. He groans deeply and bobs his head up and down, holding Charlie’s hips tight and still, and presses back against the hold in his hair, like he’s saying, Do it. Pull harder.

Charlie chokes out a sob, not wanting to disobey, not sure if he has permission, trying to squirm away and towards Nick’s mouth. “Please stop,” he gasps, shaky and wet, “Please daddy, I wanna be good, I’m,” his eyes roll back from how good it feels, his thighs shivering hard from holding back, “I don’t wanna disobey, please.”

Nick squeezes his thigh with a massive hand, and when Charlie looks down, Nick is staring up at him with a lazy, smirking look in his eyes. He very barely nods, his mouth still full of Charlie’s cock, and brushes his fingers just over where Charlie’s sweatpants are bunched up under his balls. The touch is barely there, but Charlie feels it against his taint and knows the implication; wants Nick’s fingers so deep inside him, and he comes.

“Oh,” Charlie gasps, his entire back arched towards Nick’s mouth, and he lets out a choked sobbing sound, covering his own mouth at the last minute before he practically shouts, biting at his palm. Nick doesn’t pull off his cock for a second; he keeps humming quietly as he fills up his mouth over and over again, swallowing Charlie’s come as his eyes flutter closed, squeezing him tight so he doesn’t buck right off the desk.

Charlie shivers so hard, over and over as he starts whimpering, pulling so hard at Nick’s hair as he babbles, “Thank you, daddy, thank you it’s so good - you make me feel so good.”

Charlie is still trembling when Nick pops off his cock with a messy sound, and Charlie immediately cups his mentor’s jaw and leans down to kiss him. Nick moans as Charlie licks into his mouth, humming softly and squeezing his hips, running his fingers up Charlie’s back.

“Good boy,” Nick murmurs, pressing messy kisses against Charlie’s panting mouth, “Did so fucking good for me.”

Charlie can feel the blush travel down his body at the praise. He smiles against Nick’s mouth and squirms forward on the desk. “Can I make you come? Can I touch you?”

Nick smiles back against his mouth and nods. “Yeah, baby, you can touch. You earned it.”

Charlie is buzzing from the praise and watches as Nick gently pulls up his sweatpants and then sits back in his chair, spreading his legs. Charlie’s mouth fills with saliva, and he’s on his knees in an instant, licking his lips.

Nick cups his jaw, and Charlie expects to be told what to do, but Nick hums and asks, “What do you want, hm? Wanna have your way with me?” 

Charlie feels like his head has nothing but static in it at the question. His jaw drops a bit as he nods, fingers already undoing Nick’s pants. Nick just sits back and watches him, eyes dark like he wants to eat Charlie up.

Charlie moans when Nick’s cock is freed. It’s so heavy in his hand, and thick, and he wants Nick to split him open so badly. He looks back up at Nick for a few seconds, searching for permission, and Nick just hums and nods his head.

Charlie doesn’t hesitate. He holds Nick’s cock in his hand and licks a messy stripe up the underside, all the way to the tip, licking his lips when he’s done. Then he does it again, slow and methodical, moaning against his cock. Nick moans softly, watching him with hooded eyes. Charlie sucks just the tip into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed at the taste, and rolls his tongue over the head of Nick’s cock like it’s candy. 

Charlie pops off when he’s satisfied, hearing Nick’s soft groans. He locks eyes with his mentor as he licks up his cock again, from the base to the now leaking tip, and moans. 

“You’re so big,” Charlie mumbles, sucking messy kisses down his shaft, thumb spreading the precome starting to drip down. He blinks up at Nick, knowing his cheeks must be rosy. “I want you inside me so bad.”

Nick groans and runs his fingers through Charlie’s curls, pulling gently. Charlie whimpers and dips his head to suck messy kisses on Nick’s balls, copying him from before, moaning at how filthy it makes him feel. Nick sighs and tugs on his hair. Charlie smirks up at him and leans up to suck the head clean again, tapping it against his tongue for Nick to see.

“Filthy,” Nick murmurs, his cock twitching in Charlie’s hand. “Just look at you.”

Charlie whimpers, then sighs, “Please keep talking.” He waits for more precome to bead and licks that up, too, humming. “I wanna know what you’re thinking.”

Nick hisses as Charlie just barely brushes his teeth over the pretty vein on the underside of Nick’s cock, and smirks. Nick tugs on his hair and murmurs, “I think you’re a little tease.”

Charlie hums but doesn’t disagree, sucking on the head of his cock again, pressing the tip of his tongue against the slit, wanting more precome.

Nick groans from deep in his throat. “Look at you. Playing with my cock like it’s a toy. It’s all yours, huh?”

Charlie moans around his mouthful, his own twitching in his sweatpants at the words. He’ll be leaking again in no time.

He pulls off with a messy pop and whispers, “Mmm, yeah. Want it to be all mine.” He taps the heavy tip against his lips, against his tongue, eyes fluttering closed.

I want you to think of only me every time you touch yourself. I want to be the only one. I want no one else to even compare. I want to be your favorite.

Nick swears and tugs at Charlie’s hair again, making him whimper. 

“It’s all yours,” Nick murmurs. “Put it in your mouth.”

Charlie feels a deep thrum of satisfaction take over his entire body at the words. He moans and doesn’t hesitate, taking Nick’s cock deep into his mouth. He moans at the familiar feeling, running the flat of his tongue over the underside as he sucks, shivering hard between Nick’s thighs.

Nick’s groan seems to rumble through him, and he keeps talking. “Yeah. Take it deep, baby boy. Just like that.”

Charlie lets out a muffled whine and takes him down as much as he can. He quickly chokes and has to pull off to breathe, moaning as he strokes Nick’s cock. It’s so messy, saliva and precome dripping down his chin and down Nick’s cock, his hand sticky with it. Nick groans again at the sight and sighs, “Look so pretty when you choke on it. Your cheeks get all pink, and your eyes, sweetheart. Jesus, look at you.”

Charlie knows his eyes are tearing up, and he moans as he takes Nick’s cock into his mouth again. He tries to take it slow, but he wants, and Nick’s mouth is so filthy, he can’t help but choke on it again.

Nick hums quietly and murmurs, “So needy. Look at you, baby. All desperate to please me, huh? You want daddy to feel good?”

Charlie can feel precome start to drip in his sweatpants. He’s so hard it aches, and he whimpers, wanting to touch himself. He nods his head as he pops off again, breathless and panting, and he finally says what he really wants.

“Yeah, daddy, I want - want you to fuck my throat again, like last time,” he mumbles, sucking kisses on the head of his cock. “Please? I just wanna be used up by you. Only you.”

Nick tugs hard on Charlie’s hair, forcing him off his cock. Charlie whines at the pain, thrusting forward into nothing, and licks his lips as Nick leans in closer to stare him down.

“Only me?” Nick murmurs against his mouth. “You wanna be just mine?”

Charlie whimpers at the question, and in the filthy haze of his mind, he doesn’t have a choice but to be honest.

“I’m already all yours, daddy, I don’t - I don’t want anyone else. Please, just use me up.”

Nick kisses him hard, swallowing all his little sounds and moaning against his mouth. He holds Charlie by the hair and brings his head towards his cock.

“Open up for me. Let me give it to you,” he murmurs and pulls Charlie’s head down onto his cock again, deep and messy. Charlie nearly cries from how good it feels; the feeling of being used, like he belongs just to Nick, that this moment belongs only to them, makes him feel whole again. 

Charlie chokes on Nick’s cock again and again and again. Until there’s drool dripping out of his mouth, until his throat is raw, and Charlie has to slide his hand inside his sweatpants.

He moans as he rocks against his fist, all the precome making it so easy and messy, still wet from Nick’s mouth. His eyes roll back when Nick pulls him off to breathe just as he runs his thumb over the head of his own cock, so sensitive and needy. 

“Gonna come for me again, hm?” Nick murmurs, tapping the head of his cock against Charlie’s open, panting mouth. “Needy little thing. Just need your mouth full to get you going again.”

Charlie whimpers and nods and pulls down his sweatpants so Nick can see. 

“Please, keep - I wanna come with my mouth full,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and Nick groans before he slides his cock into Charlie’s mouth, deep and back home. He keeps Charlie’s head down for a few seconds longer, watching him for any signs of struggle, but Charlie just whines as best as he can with his mouth so full, coming all over the floor as Nick lifts him back up.

“Christ,” Nick murmurs, pulling hard at Charlie’s hair as he whimpers and pants through his orgasm, “You’re a fucking dream, baby boy. I can’t believe you’re real, fuck.”

Charlie licks his bruised and swollen lips, blushing down to his chest at the words and whispers, “I’m - mmm, real and all yours,” his voice so broken. 

Nick strokes his cock and moans, bringing him close again. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face,” he pants. “Gonna make you all mine.”

Charlie nods and opens his mouth, leaning his head back towards Nick’s pull. “Yours, wanna be all yours,” he whispers, and sighs as Nick’s come hits his lips, his cheeks, his chin, inside his mouth. Nick is groaning with each stroke, panting hard, and he murmurs, “Fucking perfect.”

Charlie is in a daze as Nick lifts him onto his lap again. Home, Charlie finds himself thinking, melting into the man’s embrace. Nick licks up all the come on his face like he’s starving, and licks it into Charlie’s mouth so he can taste, too. Charlie is whimpering into Nick’s mouth by the time he is satisfied, his eyes half closed.

Nick gently pulls up his sweatpants again and presses soft kisses on Charlie’s closed eyelids, down his cheeks. He murmurs, “You can rest, hm? Stay with me. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to leave.”

Charlie nuzzles his face against Nick’s neck, breathing shaky and overwhelmed, thinking the words stay with me over and over on a loop. He can feel sleep tugging at him, and he tries so hard to fight it, but it’s no use.

The last thing he remembers before he’s lulled to sleep in Nick’s warm embrace is Nick pressing kisses against his cheek, jaw, and shoulder, murmuring, “Sweet boy. Mine, mine, mine.”

Chapter Text

When Charlie wakes up, he feels content and taken care of; it’s an uncommon feeling for him to say the least. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this way before and tries to settle into it, like it could be taken away at any second. He breathes in the scent of Nick’s warm cologne and nuzzles his skin, fighting back the urge to give him a soft bite. He can feel Nick’s hands trailing up and down his back. Nick’s humming is so sweet against his jaw and shoulder. Charlie shivers hard, realizing his shirt is still undone; his chest is pressed against Nick’s, his skin soaking up all the warmth available to him.

Nick stops humming and runs his fingers into Charlie’s curls, scratching the back of his head.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Nick whispers. There’s a clear smile in his voice. “Back with me?”

Charlie smiles back and brushes his lips against his mentor’s neck, making him shiver. Charlie giggles and presses in closer, his eyes nearly closing again. He feels so comfortable and so at home in Nick’s arms. 

Then he remembers that he’s still in Nick’s office. He’s never fallen asleep here and isn’t sure how much time has passed. It makes him gasp, and he sits up quickly, his eyes wide.

“Oh, I should - should I leave?” Charlie asks, not wanting to overstay his welcome. He shivers again, his chest bare and already missing the warmth.

He’s taken aback, like he usually is, by how beautiful Nick is. He looks sleepy, and his hair is a bit messy, but otherwise he looks breathtaking. All freckles and pretty skin, his mouth begging to be kissed. 

Nick frowns and gently runs his fingers up Charlie’s stomach. “Why do you think you should leave?”

Charlie presses forward, trying to hold back from trembling. Nick’s touch is so tender, going over every one of the hickeys splattered over Charlie’s skin – like he’s admiring them.

Charlie swallows hard and tries to concentrate. He’s so sleepy, and all he can think about is that he wants Nick to keep touching him forever. “Because I’m - I feel like I’m taking up so much of your time,” he stutters and immediately regrets it. His face starts to burn, and he wants to cover it with his hands. 

Charlie didn’t mean to be so honest. He can usually filter out most of his insecure thoughts, so only the shiny and necessary ones spill out. He doesn’t want to ask more of Nick than he’s willing to offer. Charlie must be more exhausted than he thought. 

Nick’s brow furrows deeply, and he stops the caressing to hold onto Charlie’s hips. He watches Charlie so carefully that the boy nearly blurts out an apology, the intense observation making him feel vulnerable, but Nick beats him to it.

“Do you really think that I don’t want you to take up my time?” Nick asks quietly. Charlie feels like a furnace, his blush traveling down to his chest. 

“I, um. I don’t know. We’re usually…” Charlie tries to explain, then shakes his head. He’ll have to just say it; he couldn’t hold his tongue, and he’s paying for it now.

“We see each other during the day, and that’s nice, but we don’t get to talk much. Then I’m here at night, and we have sex, but I usually leave right afterwards.” He closes his eyes, trying to push through the words. “I feel bad that I fell asleep and stayed too long. I don’t want to… overstep or take more than you want me to. It’s okay if this is all you want.”

It’s a lie, and he knows it. But Charlie would rather have any part of Nick he can take, even if it’s not all of him.

Nick stares at him for a long time, like he’s trying to form the words. His mouth keeps opening and closing, and his frown deepens. 

Charlie can feel the regret bloom inside his chest. Why did he have to say all of that? He fights his own combatting urges: to be avoidant, to ignore that he even spoke about this out loud, to force himself to believe that he really would be happy with just sex. But the small voice in the back of his mind knows the truth – that he wants more than this, regardless of whether or not he deserves it. Whether or not it can truly belong to him.

But he’d never force something that Nick doesn’t want. In the deep shadows of his mind, he knows that if all Nick wants are these dark nights in his office, Charlie will hide all of his feelings and continue without a second thought. It would hurt, maybe even kill some part of himself, but he’d do it for Nick because what they have is the very definition of something holy. It rushes through Charlie’s veins every moment of every day, this intense and severe longing, this need to be together physically, the absolute rush of their connection. Charlie would drown in Nick’s waters for the rest of his life and not come up for air once. Amen. 

Charlie’s hands start to shake with nerves, and he plays with the buttons of Nick’s shirt. He’s about to say, Forget I said anything. Please? Let’s just act like nothing was said. I’ll leave and cry myself to sleep, and we’ll fuck again tomorrow, and it will be fine. It will be perfect.

But Nick asks, so quietly that Charlie has to strain to hear him, “Is this… what you want? Just sex and nothing more?”

Charlie can’t tell what Nick is thinking exactly, but he doesn’t expect the hurt that flashes in his mentor’s eyes. Charlie is accustomed to Nick being demanding, taking exactly what he wants. But this reminds Charlie of the last time he saw that same look in Nick’s eyes, that ache he never wants to see again.

It happened when Nick asked him if all Charlie wanted from him was attention, after Charlie had ignored him for a week. And it happened again, when Nick told him he had stayed up late in his office every night during that week, hoping Charlie would show up.

It makes something physically hurt inside Charlie’s chest, his stomach tying into knots. Any thought of lying to Nick’s face vanishes. He simply can’t take the chance of hurting him again, even if he hurts himself in the process.

Charlie shakes his head, staring at the buttons of Nick’s shirt so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. In case he’s wrong to admit it. In case this is the last time he’ll get to sit on Nick’s lap like this.

“No… it’s not all I want,” he says softly. He can hear Nick’s sharp inhale, and he squeezes his eyes shut. The words form before he can help himself. 

“That’s not - it’s not important though, we don’t have to - please, just forget I said anything. If it’s not what you want, then it doesn’t matter; I don’t want to stop just because -”

“Hey, shh, none of that, sweetheart,” Nick soothes, his voice so gentle that it nearly brings tears to Charlie’s eyes. He runs his hands up Charlie’s back under the shirt and tugs him in closer like he can feel Charlie attempting to create distance already.

“It’s important to me,” Nick says quietly, cupping Charlie’s face with his hand. “I want to talk about this. This should have been the first thing we did, yeah?”

Charlie swallows hard and tries to stop his bottom lip from trembling as he nods. He’s convinced this is the end and feels the betrayal of tears warming up his eyes. He can’t help but lean into Nick’s touch as he closes them. He whispers, “I don’t want to stop…”

“Baby,” Nick says softly and brings his other hand up to Charlie’s face. He caresses Charlie’s cheeks with his thumbs and whispers, “I don’t want to stop, either. Why would we stop then, hm? If we both want to keep going?”

Charlie blinks his eyes open and looks into Nick’s. Their faces are so close, and Charlie is still fighting back tears. It’s nearly impossible to stop them from falling when Nick looks at him like this, so earnest and concerned, with a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“You don’t?” Charlie asks, covering Nick’s hand with his own.

Nick shakes his head. “I don’t, sweet boy. I haven’t done a good job of telling you how I feel, have I?”

Charlie feels the butterflies start up in his stomach, soft and fluttering. He smiles a little and says, “I don’t know if I’ve ever given you the chance to try.”

Nick smiles at him. “We do get pretty busy when we’re together, huh?”

Charlie can feel his face warming up as if this isn’t true – as if he hasn't come twice tonight alone. 

“Yeah. You’re just so hot, and I want you so bad,” Charlie says quietly. He knows he’s practically on fire every time he’s near Nick.

Nick leans forward and gives him a kiss. It’s lingering, so gentle and sweet. He pulls away just to press more pecks against his mouth like he can’t get enough of the taste.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart,” Nick murmurs, brushing their lips together when Charlie leans in for more. He pulls away to run his thumb over Charlie’s bottom lip, the way he always does, and he sighs quietly. “I like you so much.”

Charlie’s voice gets caught in his throat. He tries to say something, anything. In his mind, he can hear what can only resemble church bells, or wind chimes, and a chorus of, You do? You like me? Me? Are you sure? 

Nick focuses on his lips, his cheeks starting to bloom a rosy color. “I want to spend more time with you,” he continues softly. “I’ve wanted to ever since you introduced yourself.”

“Since then?” Charlie asks in disbelief. His body thrums with curiosity. “Why? What did…” he blushes hard but manages to blurt out, “What made you want to spend time with me?” He regrets it immediately, not sure if he wants to know the answer or if it’s too needy of a question to ask. 

But Nick smiles fondly at him like he’s remembering. He gently holds Charlie’s chin in his hand and says, “You were so sweet to me and so forward. You wanted to talk to me, so you came all the way over here and made it happen.” He laughs a little, running his fingers through the curls resting on Charlie’s forehead. “And you were funny. You told me the mentors before me were geriatric. Do you remember that?”

Charlie nods, giggling with him. He remembers everything about that day and thinks about it way too often. “Yeah. I was surprised you didn’t get me in trouble for that.”

Nick shakes his head and says, “I’d never get you in trouble for being honest. Plus, I was already into you, even then.”

Charlie swallows hard, trying to form a coherent thought so he doesn’t let out something stupid, like a squeak. He wasn’t expecting all of that, not even close. “Oh. I - I didn’t know that. I just thought…” he starts blushing again, trying to nuzzle against Nick’s hand on his cheek.

Nick smiles again. It makes his blush look even prettier. He is so, so handsome. “Yeah. I haven’t been as obvious as I thought,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to ever feel like I want you to rush out of here.”

His blush turns darker, the color trailing slowly down to his neck. Charlie wonders for the millionth time how old Nick is; he looks so young like this, so vulnerable. “These are some of my favorite moments. I promise.”

Charlie feels like his entire body might combust. This is not at all how he was expecting the night to go. He starts pressing soft kisses on Nick’s lips and all over his rosy cheeks, until Nick is laughing and squeezing his hips tight again, until Charlie is giggling and cupping Nick’s face in his hands.

“I like you so much,” Charlie breathes, and watches Nick’s eyes melt with the most endearing look, his blush darkening even more. It takes Charlie’s breath away, and he runs his thumbs over Nick’s cheeks, copying his movements from earlier. 

“You’re so handsome, and so sweet and fucking hot, and you like me,” Charlie whispers in disbelief. A part of Charlie thinks this couldn’t possibly be happening, but it feels real. He’s holding Nick in his hands and can feel their connection vibrating through him like it’s written in the stars. Could anything be more real, more true than this? He pushes his hesitations to the side, choosing to dive into this beautiful feeling of oh, finally and this is what it’s supposed to be like. All he’s ever wanted is to feel wanted, and here it is. He’ll never let it go. Nick kisses him until there’s no air left in both of their lungs, until they’re grinning and panting against each other’s mouths. 

-

Nick offers to walk Charlie back to his dorm since it’s gotten so late, and Charlie is thankful. As tough as he tries to seem, the dark has always frightened him. It’s so quiet and eerie with no one around, especially with all the creepy statues of nameless angels and revered saints all over campus. It makes it feel like he’s being watched at all times.

But Charlie feels safe with Nick. He’s dying to hold hands, and he can tell Nick is too, because they walk so closely that their fingers keep brushing together. 

Charlie smiles up at him as they walk, taking in Nick’s handsome face, his stature, his wide shoulders. Sometimes, he looks so grown that it’s overwhelming, but sometimes he looks so young that it’s shocking – like the more he opens up and feels his emotions, the more his vulnerability shines through. 

There’s a comfortable silence for a few moments before Charlie finally asks, because curiosity is killing him, “How old are you?”

Nick smiles at the question like he’s been expecting it. “How old do you think I am?”

Charlie rolls his eyes, smiling back. “I don’t wanna guess! What if I insult you by accident?”

Nick laughs and says, “I don’t think you could insult me unless you meant to.” Then he sighs like it’s a question he answers all the time. “I’m nineteen.”

Charlie’s jaw drops. “You’re nineteen?”

Nick makes a sound that Charlie doesn’t understand, but he’s still half smiling. “What, is that bad?”

Charlie shakes his head, but his mouth is still agape. “No, I - God, I assumed you were older. You don’t - you seem much more grown. You’re so stern, and you fit in so well with the other teachers.” Charlie just manages not to blurt out that he finds this incredibly fucking hot. Nick’s ability to be in control of any space he’s in and to demand respect without being cruel is fascinating, considering his age.

He shakes his head again, baffled. “How did you manage to become a mentor? I swear, they’re usually at least double your age.”

Nick laughs again like he can’t help himself. “I don’t know if thirty-eight is geriatric.” Charlie gives him a small shove, and Nick barely budges, just giggles before replying.

“I graduated high school early. Way early.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “My family’s always been in the church, and my father’s on the board. Classic nepotism shit, to be honest with you.”

Charlie had guessed that there was nepotism at play and thinks, I knew it, but doesn’t rub it in. Nick doesn’t seem proud of that fact. He actually seems embarrassed, his ears slowly going red as he speaks. He looks down at the ground as they walk, and Charlie can see he’s starting to frown. 

He nudges Nick gently and says, “This shitty system exists against our will. You might as well take advantage of it, right? As long as you’re being safe and getting what you want?”

Nick lets out a noise that sounds almost like a snort. “Yeah. Whatever he wants, anyway.”

This nearly makes Charlie stop walking. He knows Nick is talking about his father because he has said this very sentence to himself many times before. It makes his heart ache that Nick might be living through the same struggle of trying to keep somebody else content. 

“Yeah. I can understand that,” Charlie says quietly. He wants to squeeze Nick’s hand so badly – wants to give him a big, big hug and never let him go.

Nick shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Anyway. This is basically a hands-on learning experience, as they say. I’m not sure they’ll keep me here after the summer.”

Charlie feels selfish because he doesn’t mind that. He’s graduating this year and will be long gone by then, hopefully to his chosen art school with Elle. He doesn’t say that though, because he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Who knows if Nick is even interested in him beyond this?

“Well. I hope you’ve been learning a lot?” Charlie asks with a cheeky smile. They arrive at the dorm building, and Nick opens the door for Charlie, giving him a knowing look.

“I’ve been a little busy learning about you,” he says quietly as Charlie walks past him through the door, their bodies brushing together.

Charlie shivers hard, and it feels like he blushes from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The heat envelops him so quickly, it’s shocking. God.

He swallows hard and tries to seem in control. But his hands shake a bit as he reaches for his dorm room key. He’s suddenly frustrated that they’ve arrived so quickly; for the first time since joining this school, he wishes his room was further away so they could spend more time talking.

“Yeah? And what have you learned?” Charlie asks quietly, trying to be coy. But he knows his pink cheeks must completely cancel that out. He glances at Nick, trying to quickly gauge his reaction but has to keep looking when he realizes Nick is staring at him.

Nick looks like he’s contemplating but also like he’s starving. His jaw clenches the same way it did when Charlie pulled that teasing stunt during mass, his eyes going dark. It makes Charlie’s knees immediately go weak; he nearly has to lean against his door so he doesn’t stumble onto the floor.

Nick looks around them, even though he doesn’t need to. It’s late and way past curfew; everyone is inside their respective dorms. He holds out his hand and says, “Give me your phone.”

Charlie is still shaking as he hands it over without hesitation. He’d do anything Nick asked him to do.

Nick gives him a soft smile and types something out on the phone. Charlie stares at him in awe, like he’s never seen him before, and in a way, it is true. He’s never seen Nick outside of Mass, the hallways, or his office. Having his mentor so close to his bedroom, where he’s prayed on his actual knees for moments like this, makes Charlie feel dizzy and lit up inside like all his nerves are suddenly buzzing under his skin.

Nick gives him back the phone and says, “Text me tomorrow.” He presses his pointer finger under Charlie’s chin, tilting his head up a bit. Charlie thinks he’s going to be kissed, and he goes breathless at the thought of the risk. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t completely turn him on.

Nick glances at Charlie’s lips, but doesn’t kiss him. He just murmurs, “Don’t stray. Come visit me tomorrow. Yeah?” His voice is so quiet and smooth, fucking decadent.

Charlie swallows hard and whispers, “Yeah. I - yes. I won’t stray, and I’ll text you, and I’ll visit. Anything you want.” It spills out of him without any delay.

Nick’s smile turns sweet again, and he gently pinches Charlie’s chin, like he can’t help himself. “Anything you want,” he confirms, then says, “Get some rest tonight, Charlie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He starts down the hallway without another word, and Charlie watches him go, his jaw practically on the floor. Nick turns around when he’s near the end of the hall with that same, knowing smile and repeats, “I said go get some rest, Charlie.”

Charlie just nods and unlocks his door, letting himself inside. His legs are trembling and he leans against it, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened tonight.

Nick likes him. Nick walked him back to his room. Nick gave him his number. Nick likes him. Nick really likes him. Oh my God.

Charlie stares at the cross hanging above his bed and considers, for the first time since he was in elementary school, that God might be real. After all of his suffering, maybe now is the time for his prayers to come true. Tears well up in his eyes, and he smiles. He’s never felt so much hope. Maybe he’s really been watched over his entire life by God or a saint or an angel, and all of his suffering has led him to this exact moment. 

He presses his shaking hands together in front of his face, pressing a kiss against his thumbs in reverence. “Thank you,” he whispers to himself, to the room, to God, to whoever is listening, and allows himself to believe.

-

Charlie never thought that he’d get to have these moments with Nick – where they spend hours texting, talking about their lives, getting to know each other. It’s surreal. 

He visits Nick’s office during the day, at least once a day, all week long. He starts bringing Nick snacks again, like he used to when they first met. It’s easily the sweetest part of Charlie’s day, seeing how excited Nick is when he sees chocolate. When Charlie teases him about this, Nick says the only thing that makes him happier is seeing him knock on his door, and Charlie has to cover his face with both hands and do a horrible job of holding back a squeal. 

They become so comfortable with each other that Charlie nearly forgets how forbidden this beautiful thing between them really is. It always hits him at random moments, when they see each other in the hallway, or when someone else stops by the office while Charlie is sitting across from Nick at his desk. Not only is Nick his mentor, and Nick’s literal father is on the board, but homophobia is rampant in the entire campus. 

It’s an unspoken rule that anyone caught doing something that even resembles homosexuality, whether it’s kissing or something as innocent as a note, will get into some sort of trouble or at least have their parents notified. Charlie would know; he was sent here years ago for his father’s suspicions of his homosexual tendencies and gets into deep trouble every time the school notifies his father of his behaviors, even though the only reason he gets into fights is because he’s defending himself from bigots. It’s barbaric. He assumes the only reason Elle is allowed to attend at all is because the board is not aware she’s trans; it could also be due to anti-discriminatory laws, or Elle’s parents are filthy rich and bought her way in. Because God forbid someone who’s not cis and straight join this heavenly fucking palace. It’s disgusting to say the least.

It all makes Charlie intensely curious about Nick and his upbringing. What brought him to this campus specifically and why he’s stuck around to follow his own father’s rules for so long. But Charlie doesn’t want to discuss something so severe over text, and every time they’re together in Nick’s office during the day, it’s not private enough. Plus, it’s been nice to enjoy talking about fun things, like their actual interests, especially movies and music.

When Charlie tells Nick about his film project with Elle, Nick absolutely beams at him and wants to know all the details. Charlie gets shy and doesn’t want to bother Nick with his rambling, but Nick reassures him that there’s nothing he’d rather know more about. So Charlie goes on and on about the film while Nick listens, and they share his chocolate bar. 

There’s an unspoken rule between them now, where Charlie waits for Nick to invite him to the office after hours. Charlie doesn’t want to assume that Nick will be there every night, and he wants to show Nick that he can be good and not think with just his dick. He can be patient. 

But the truth is, Charlie can’t be patient. The more they get to know each other, the more insatiable Charlie feels. He didn’t think it would be possible to want Nick more than he did before, but he was dead wrong. Now that he’s seen Nick be vulnerable and knows that Nick genuinely likes him back, Charlie wants to devour him at all hours of the day and night. 

Days pass, and Nick doesn’t mention the office once. Charlie starts to get antsy. As much as he adores talking to Nick about their lives, he wants Nick to eat him up again, too. He misses the physical connection and intimacy they formed together. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he misses the way Nick used to want him. He craves that feeling of being craved like Nick didn’t have a choice but to consume every bit of him. 

Late one afternoon, when the feeling becomes too much to handle after a very thorough shower, Charlie texts Nick. He tries to be subtle about it.

C: i miss you

It takes Nick a few minutes to reply.

N: we saw each other this morning, sweetheart. :)

N: but i miss you too. 

Charlie grinds his teeth together. He tries being more obvious.

C: no. i really, really miss you

This time, Nick replies almost immediately.

N: do you, baby?

Charlie’s jaw drops open. The frustration climbs up inside him like a vice, threatening to choke him. He assumes that Nick is playing with him, and it’s infuriating.

C: you’re teasing me.

Charlie waits for the reply, practically shivering in his bed. Part of him is so angry. Part of him is thrilled. 

N: why would I do that, baby boy?

Charlie’s stomach dips. He feels the heat crawl up his chest and back down, settling low in his stomach. He clenches his jaw because this confirms that Nick is testing him. He can’t help but say what he’s really thinking, whether it’s dramatic or not.

C: are you planning on ever touching me again?

The reply comes in seconds. He isn’t surprised at how brief it is, but it still makes his heart skip a beat.

N: Charlie.

Charlie knows he’s treading on thin ice, but he can’t help but push Nick further. He misses being claimed and wants it rough – wants Nick to bruise him, and tear him apart, and put him back together again.

C: am i gonna have to fuck my hand again tonight? thinking of you when you can be giving me the real thing?

Charlie feels like the entire world spins on its axis when he reads Nick’s reply.

N: don’t you fucking dare. come see me, now.

Chapter Text

Charlie takes his sweet time getting to Nick’s office. He’s already clean from his shower, but he changes into a faded t-shirt and sweatpants for easy access. It’s late enough that there shouldn’t be teachers around to frown at his appearance, but he packs his uniform into his backpack anyway in case he needs to change back into it. Better safe than sorry.

He’s not sure what to expect – just that he’s excited. It’s been days since he’s been to the office at night time and he feels wired. Just seeing the office door gives him goosebumps. There’s something exciting about wearing casual clothes around Nick, too. It makes this feel like an actual relationship as opposed to something that just happens casually, and the thought makes butterflies erupt in his stomach.

But Charlie refuses to show his excitement. He walks slowly and even takes his time knocking on the door. He doesn’t want to jump onto Nick’s lap like he always does. He wants Nick to fight for it, or make him.

Charlie walks into the office once Nick tells him to and locks the door behind him. He sets down his backpack and leans against the door like he’s done many times before and stares at Nick from across the room. 

Nick is leaning against the front of his desk and already watching him, wearing his usual clothes. Charlie will never tire of the way Nick’s eyes slowly travel down his body, like he’s planning exactly what he wants to do with just a look. His eyes are dark.

There’s a few moments of silence. The tension builds slowly, like a pressure rising from the floor and up the walls. Charlie doesn’t dare move; he just tries to take deep breaths and appear calm. Nick continues to look him up and down. His eyes settle on Charlie’s hips for a few seconds longer than necessary and Charlie tries very hard not to squirm under his stare.

“Come here,” Nick finally says, so quietly.

“No,” Charlie replies. He’s proud of the way his voice sounds strong, unwavering. His hands are shaking at his sides and he clenches his fists.

Nick looks at him for a while longer. His jaw sets at the one syllable reply, but he doesn’t move. Charlie swears his eyes go even darker.

“So you came to my office just to stand there all night?” 

Charlie swallows hard, feeling his stomach drop. Nick’s voice sounds so stern, like it did that night when Charlie first wore the skirt.

“If I have to,” he says. He fails not to flinch when Nick stands up.

“Yeah?” Nick starts to slowly roll up his left sleeve, staring right at Charlie.  “And why would you have to do that?” 

Charlie tries so hard not to react. His eyes trail down to Nick’s arm, to his fingers rolling up the fabric. The view makes his stomach hurt and he tries to focus on his next words.

“Because you’ve made me wait for days,” he says, trying not to seem breathless already.

Nick barely acknowledges him, concentrating on what he’s doing. He properly tucks his sleeve in and then moves on to his other arm. Slowly folding the fabric over and over, his forearm flexed. 

“What have I made you wait for?” he asks, still focusing on what he’s doing.

Charlie hates this. He loves it, and he fucking hates it. He takes a shaky breath and asks, “Are you ever going to fuck me?”

Nick looks up at him immediately, stopping mid-fold. 

Charlie takes advantage of having his attention. “I want you to fuck me and I want you to rough me up. But I think you’re too sweet and you won’t do it.”

It’s partially a lie. Charlie wants to believe that Nick would completely take him over and make him scream, but he’s only had Nick’s cock in his hands and mouth. He wants to be completely owned and filled up, wants to cry from how full he feels.

Nick watches him for a few more seconds, like he’s processing what he just heard. He slowly finishes tucking in his sleeve and without another word, he starts unbuttoning his shirt from the top.

A soft gasp escapes Charlie. He immediately tries to close his mouth so it doesn’t gape open, but he’s not fast enough, and he knows it. Nick doesn’t smirk, but the way his eyes seem to melt into milk chocolate with a hint of a smile says he knows Charlie is not going to win this round.

Nick slowly undoes one button and then another, revealing that he’s wearing the rosary around his neck. He unbuttons until half of his chest is visible. Charlie swallows so hard he can hear it. Not even clenching his fists is enough to stop the shaking in his hands. He realizes he’s already taken a step towards the desk.

Nick leaves a few buttons still done up, but it’s more than enough to see him. His chest is fucking beautiful. Charlie has felt it over his shirt, palmed at his pecs and his shoulders, but seeing it is an entirely different situation. The rosary rests against his collarbone and the cross hangs down towards the middle of his chest. The dark color contrast against his pale skin is divine. Charlie can see the hint of soft abs trailing down into the rest of the shirt and he thinks he might die. 

For some reason, he never expected Nick to be this fit. It makes perfect sense considering his stature and his wide shoulders, but this completely blows Charlie away. He’s never wanted someone so bad in his entire life.

Nick is still for a bit as Charlie stares at him. Then his hands move to his belt buckle and he slowly undoes that too. Charlie can feel his heart beat harder in his chest.

“You think I’m too sweet,” Nick confirms, pulling off his belt entirely and setting it on the desk behind him. “And that I won’t rough you up.”

Charlie licks his lips, watching Nick’s hands slowly undo the top button of his dress pants. The view makes him completely breathless. It’s like he entirely forgot what he was trying to say before. 

“Um,” he starts, his jaw dropping open when Nick leaves his pants undone and goes back to undoing his shirt. Charlie can see his happy trail and feels himself salivate.

“Answer me.” The demand is firm but quiet. “Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” Charlie replies, because he has no choice. It’s like a current is pulling him in, like he’s completely at Nick’s mercy. “I said that.”

Nick says his next words with so much finality that Charlie can’t help but obey.

“Come. Here.”

Charlie practically floats forward. He’s already breathless, staring at Nick’s chest and stomach and he’s forced to look into his eyes instead, because Nick gets a hand around his throat as soon as he’s close enough to touch.

Charlie’s breath hitches and Nick holds him still and tilts his head back, thumb pressing against his pulse point. Charlie’s mouth falls open.

Nick watches him for a while. Charlie can breathe, but just barely. He wants to reach for Nick’s arm but stops himself. 

“Maybe I’ve been too easy on you,” Nick says quietly. “I thought you knew where your place was, but I was wrong, huh?”

Charlie whimpers. His eyes start to trail down Nick’s chest because he can’t help himself and gasps when Nick tilts his head right back, rough and sudden.

“Look right at me,” Nick murmurs. “No looking away tonight.”

Charlie’s legs nearly give out. He gasps softly and looks right into Nick’s eyes, whimpering again at how dark they look.

Nick runs his thumb over Charlie’s throat, allowing him to take a deep, shaky breath. Charlie holds onto his arm without thinking when Nick grabs his neck again, brow furrowing from how good it already feels.

Nick gives Charlie a few more seconds of being still before finally asking, “Do you know about safe words, Charlie?”

Charlie’s breath catches, even as his throat is being restrained. He nods and whispers, “Y-Yes, I do.”

“Yeah?” Nick asks, pulling him in closer. Charlie can feel his breath against his lips and it makes his jaw drop open, wanting to be kissed. “Explain them to me.”

Charlie swallows hard again, feeling it push against Nick’s hand. He tries to focus enough to answer, despite the heat rushing down his body, pooling in his lower stomach.

“Um, green is – it means continue, and yellow means s-slow down or check in, and red is – it means too much or stop,” Charlie says, breathless and shivering already.

Nick hums and tugs at the hem of Charlie’s loose t-shirt. “Yeah? What’s your color right now?”

Charlie takes a shaky breath and whispers, “Green. It’s so green.”

Nick nods. “Good boy.” He lets go of Charlie’s throat to hold onto his jaw instead and brings him even closer. Their lips brush together and Charlie whines.

“You tell me, baby, if that color ever changes. I’ll check in with you, but if it changes at any time I need you to tell me. Immediately. Do you understand?”

Charlie whimpers and reaches for Nick’s shirt, curling his fingers into the fabric. He doesn’t dare touch his chest even though he desperately wants to.

“Yes,” he whispers. His eyes are locked on Nick’s. He couldn’t move them if he tried. “I understand.”

Nick hums again, so quietly and murmurs, “Get your shirt off. I want you on my lap, facing the desk. Right now.”

Charlie doesn’t hesitate. He gasps when Nick lets him go and as quick as he can, he slips off his shirt. He watches as Nick sits down on his chair, legs spread like he’s waiting.

Charlie walks over on trembling legs. He itches  to straddle Nick the way he normally does but he doesn’t. As instructed, he turns around, gasping when Nick immediately grabs him by the hips and tugs him onto his lap. 

The only way Charlie can describe this feeling is Heaven. His legs are straddling Nick’s thighs backwards and he can feel how hard Nick is through the thin layer of his sweatpants. His back is pressed up against Nick’s chest and it makes him sigh; their skin is touching for the first time, bare and warm and intimate. Charlie whines at the feeling, his back nearly arching off the chair already, but he’s quickly pulled back to reality when Nick takes a hold of his throat and holds him down, tight.

Charlie gasps, his head pulled back to lean on Nick’s shoulder. He can feel the heat of Nick’s skin pressed against his, the rise and fall of his chest under his body. Nick presses a soft kiss under Charlie’s ear, breathing against him and Charlie can feel the smirk against his skin. It makes his eyes nearly roll back already.

“Mmm,” Nick sighs, his free hand running down Charlie’s chest. Charlie nearly jumps when he realizes the rosary is now wrapped around Nick’s palm. Nick’s fingers ghost over his nipples, over his taut tummy splattered with hickeys, down to the waistband of his pants, the beads and cross catching on his skin. The contrast of textures is so intense that Charlie tries to buck off his lap and Nick promptly grabs him by the hip to tug him back down. Charlie’s cock visibly twitches inside his sweatpants and he moans softly when Nick leans in and nips at his earlobe.

“You mentioned earlier this week that your childhood church was bilingual,” he murmurs. “What language did you speak?”

Charlie was not expecting this question at all. He frowns, trying to think of the answer. Nick runs his fingers over his lower stomach, dipping into the band of his pants and it shocks him back into remembering.

“Um,” Charlie whispers, trying to spread his legs as much as he can. “I - We spoke Spanish.”

Nick sucks a kiss under his ear, like it’s a reward. “Yeah. You still remember ‘Our Father,’ I’m assuming?”

Charlie nearly laughs. Of course he remembers it. It’s the most common prayer, and it’s said during  every single Mass. It’s been engraved into his brain since he first learned how to speak, in both English and in Spanish. 

“Y-Yes,” Charlie pants. “I remember every word.”

Nick smirks again, like that’s exactly what he was hoping Charlie would say. Charlie’s stomach drops to his feet as arousal pools in his gut. Oh, no.

“Let’s test that, hm?” Nick murmurs, his thumb running over Charlie’s jawline while the rest of his fingers continue to rest on his throat. Charlie drops his jaw in hopes of getting the thumb inside his mouth, but infuriatingly, Nick’s thumb stays where it is. 

“We’re gonna play. I’m gonna recite the prayer to you in English, and I want you to repeat it back to me in Spanish.” Nick nips at Charlie’s pulse point, making him gasp. “Correctly. If you mess it up or stop, I’m stopping too. Does that make sense?”

Charlie feels like his brain might be leaking out of his ears. He takes a shaky breath and tries to listen, but he blurts out, “How will you know if I’m correct? You don’t speak Spanish.”

Nick pulls him back so quickly by the throat that Charlie squeaks. He squeezes tight, maybe enough to bruise, and his other hand grabs at Charlie’s sweatpants, fingers circling around the base of his cock through the thin fabric. He squeezes there, too.

Charlie’s entire body reacts. He tries to buck up into the sudden touch, his hands grabbing at Nick’s arms. His mouth falls open to moan but no sound comes out. His thighs start trembling already, his eyes fighting not to roll back.

“Don’t get smart with me tonight,” Nick murmurs against his ear, so quiet it might as well be a growl. “I swear I will stop and make you go back to your dorm hard as rock. Don’t fucking test me.”

Charlie’s eyes do roll back this time, a choked moan escaping his mouth as Nick eases up his hand. 

“Do you understand?” Nick asks, cupping Charlie’s cock in his hand so easily with a grip that is nearly painful, the beads of the rosary pressing tight against it. Charlie can feel himself start to leak, staining his pants.

“Yes,” Charlie gasps. “Oh, my G-God. I understand.”

Nick lets him go, holding onto his hip instead. Charlie trembles from the adrenaline rush, breathing hard when Nick allows him to. Nick runs his fingers over his aching throat and softly asks, “What’s your color?”

Immediately, Charlie answers, “So green, fuck.”

Nick smiles against him and presses a few soft kisses against his neck and shoulder. “Good boy. To answer your question,” he continues quietly, “I know it in Latin. It’s similar enough. So I’ll know if you skip a line, or try to be slick.”

Charlie knows he must be blushing something fierce. Thinking of Nick reciting prayers in Latin, his tongue curling around each word, makes his cock twitch. He wants to learn more, wants to know everything that Nick has learned, but he tries to settle his mind and focus on right now. He wants to be so good.

“I’ll be good,” Charlie whispers. “I’ll recite it just right for you, I promise.”

Nick groans against his skin and gives him a gentle bite, sighing when it makes Charlie groan right back. “Good. Tell me when you’re close. You’re only coming if you get it right.”

Charlie nearly tears up at the thought. He’s thankful the prayer is on the shorter side because he’s not sure how long he can last. Nick’s words alone can make him come untouched. He shivers at the thought of disobeying, not wanting to know what Nick would do if he comes without permission.

“I’ll be good,” he repeats, breathless. “Please? Please give it to me.”

Nick laughs against his neck and goosebumps cover Charlie’s arms, his nipples getting hard. Nick runs his thumb over one of them, humming when it makes Charlie arch his back. 

“Already begging and I haven’t even started,” Nick notes and he tugs down Charlie’s sweatpants with one move, tucking them gently under his balls like he’s done before.

Charlie is already leaking. His cock curves up and smacks against his lower tummy, getting his own happy trail sticky. Nick doesn’t touch him yet, just lets Charlie breathe hard and go pink all over, his chest heating up from how strong his blush is.

Nick holds his hand right above where Charlie’s leaking, the rosary beads and cross trailing over the sensitive skin of his cock, making it jump. Charlie half bucks off his chest, a sob escaping his lips and Nick holds him down with his free hand around his neck.

Then he begins, murmuring quietly under his ear. “Our Father, who art in Heaven.”

Charlie swallows so hard it clicks in his throat. He’s shivering already and can’t decide if he wants to watch Nick’s hand or lean his head back and shut his eyes.

He starts, barely having to think about it, the words coming from the deep crevices of his mind. “Padre Nuestro, que estás en el cielo,” he whispers, begging his voice not to break.

Nick hums, like he’s content, and runs his fingers over the underside of Charlie’s cock. Charlie arches his back completely off his chest, choking on Nick’s fingers holding him down by the throat.

“Hallowed be thy name,” Nick continues, his thumb catching gently on that little spot under the head of Charlie’s cock.

Charlie whimpers, feeling the precome drip onto his tummy. “Oh, f-fuck. S-Santificado sea tu nombre.”

He can feel Nick smiling against his skin. It’s torture. 

“Thy kingdom come,” Nick all but whispers, his voice velvet smooth. “Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

Nick takes his cock in his hand. Charlie can feel himself throbbing, jumping in Nick’s hand as each second passes by, his stomach going taut from how hard he’s shivering. He glances down and chokes on a moan when he realizes he’s dripping all over the rosary, milky and hot over Nick’s fingers.

“Fuck,” he gasps, already forgetting where they left off and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember. Nick goes to let go of his cock and he whines, “N-No, no, it’s – oh, it’s…”

“What’s your color, sweet boy?” Nick asks softly and the question brings Charlie right back to Earth. He trembles in Nick’s arms and tries to catch his breath.

“It’s – it’s green, I’m – oh, it’s so good already, daddy. Don’t stop?” Charlie pants, and Nick groans from deep in his throat.

“That’s the only break you get, unless you safeword for me,” Nick murmurs, “Keep going.” Nick repeats the section of the prayer and Charlie swallows hard again, doing his best to continue. 

“Venga a nosotros tu reino; hágase tu voluntad, f-fuck,” he whimpers as Nick starts to slowly stroke him. “A-Así en la tierra, como en el cielo.”

“Fuck,” Nick sighs, his fingers going tight around the base of Charlie’s cock, so they can both watch him drip, slow and messy all over his stomach. Charlie squirms on his lap, grinding down against him. Nick lets go of his cock to give his hip a smack, hard enough to make him hiss.

“Stay still,” he chides and continues the prayer: “Give us this day our daily bread.”

Charlie thinks he might start crying. The smack stings and makes him impossibly harder, and he’s already so fucking close. But he whimpers and recites, “Danos hoy n-nuestro pan de cada día.”

Nick starts to mouth kisses down his neck. Charlie whines and leans his head back for more, panting. Nick runs the beads of the rosary over the head of his cock in a slow stroke and Charlie gasps, “Oh, God, daddy, I’m close.”

Nick instantly pulls his hand off. Charlie chokes out a sob because it’s not what he wants. He arches right off Nick’s chest and begs, “No, please don’t stop,” and goes to touch himself. Nick grabs his hand and pins it down, shushing him against his ear. 

“Behave,” Nick hisses in a whisper. “Do you want to start over?”

“No,” Charlie whines. “Please don’t make me start over, we’re almost done.”

Nick sucks on his earlobe, biting at it so gently. “You’re doing so good, baby boy. Just breathe for me, and tell me when you’re ready to keep going. Okay?”

Charlie nods and allows himself to float away a bit. He feels like he’s on Nick’s lap, physically, but his mind is somewhere in the skies. He feels like he’s being tethered to the Earth by Nick’s touch, by his adoration; if he didn’t have this, he’s sure he’d cease to exist in this moment, drift off into the clouds with no plans of returning.

Nick hums a quiet tune, running his teeth over Charlie’s jawline. Charlie whimpers and spreads his legs a bit more, wanting to continue. He wants to be so good. He nods his head again and whispers, “Please.”

Nick instantly understands. He slowly, so slowly, takes Charlie’s cock into his hand, shushing softly when Charlie moans, loud and wanton. 

Nuzzling against Charlie’s neck, he whispers, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Charlie frowns, trying to remember. He has to quote the entire prayer from the beginning in his mind to understand which line is next. Then, he breathes, “Perdónanos nuestras ofensas, c-como también.” His eyes roll back with a sigh, feeling Nick’s fingers trail down to his balls and squeeze gently. “Mm – n-nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden.”

Nick starts peppering tiny bites down the side of his neck, palming at his balls. He murmurs, “And lead us not into temptation,” and trails his fingers behind them, tapping so gently at Charlie’s taint. 

Charlie’s hips buck up and he gasps, “Oh, Christ,” trying to spread his thighs. He whimpers, “Oh, my God, just a little lower, daddy, please? I want your fingers inside –”

Nick removes his hand and smacks his hip again, hard enough for Charlie to squeal. His other hand curls around Charlie’s throat and holds him down tight against his shoulder.

“You’ll get what I give you,” Nick murmurs, deadly quiet against his ear. “Is that fucking clear?”

Charlie’s eyes tear up from the smack. He lets out a choked sound and tries to stop his thighs from trembling, fighting to keep them spread as wide as before. His cock is dripping.

“Answer me,” Nick demands. 

Charlie gasps at how rough his voice sounds. “Yes! It’s clear, daddy, it’s so clear,” he sighs, cock twitching against his tummy.

Nick is quiet for a few seconds before he all but growls, “The prayer, Charlie.”

Charlie groans at how deep Nick’s voice is and jumps in his arms, suddenly remembering what he’s supposed to be doing. “Oh, fuck. U-Um. No nos dejes caer en tentación.”

Nick hums. He licks at his palm in between the rosary and takes Charlie’s cock back in his hand. Charlie shudders, leaning his head back against Nick’s shoulder. He starts to pant as Nick strokes him, slow and messy and building up speed. 

“Please,” Charlie whispers, his mouth hanging open. “Oh, please. ”

Nick smiles against his neck. “But deliver us from evil,” he murmurs and sucks on Charlie’s earlobe again. “Amen.”

Charlie starts to shake all over, Nick stroking him nice and quick. He tries to keep control even as his orgasm builds in his lower tummy, the pressure growing inside him with each stroke. He can hear the clink of the rosary beads, the filthy sound of his precome easing the way for Nick’s hand. He’s panting.

“Oh,” Charlie starts, knowing it’s near the end and trying so hard to concentrate. “Y-Y líbranos del mal.”

Nick runs his thumb over the head of Charlie’s cock, sensitive and dripping and Charlie snaps, whining, “Oh God, Amen, papi, please can I come – please I’m so close, please –”

Nick groans, biting his neck and saying, “Fuck, say it again.”

Charlie can feel himself blush, his skin heating up as he realizes what he let slip but he’s so close and he sobs out, “Papi, papi, por favor, déjame, I’ve been – please, I’m gonna –”

Nick moans against his ear, so low it sounds like a growl. “Fuck, baby, come for me. Let it all out, c’mon.”

Charlie’s back bows off of Nick’s chest when he comes, Nick’s hand gripping at his throat so he doesn’t fall off his lap, fingers stroking his cock messy and quick. Charlie’s come hits his nipples, all over his taut stomach, and drips down the rosary as the cross gently smacks against his balls with every stroke. Nick has to let go of his neck to cover his mouth instead, trying to cover up Charlie’s desperate moans and cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Charlie whimpers, muffled as he moans from the pleasure and release rushing through his body, shivering hard. “Thank you, daddy, thank you.”

Nick hums and murmurs, “Good boy. You did so well.” He presses a kiss against Charlie’s jaw. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Charlie tenses a bit, a soft gasp escaping his mouth. The way his cock twitches is borderline painful. He’s still trying to catch his breath, tremors running down his legs.

“Oh. Are you – are you going to fuck me?” He squirms on Nick’s lap at just the thought.

Nick grabs onto his hip tight, stopping him from moving. He doesn’t reply, instead bringing his hand up to Charlie’s mouth. “Clean me up.”

Charlie whimpers but doesn’t hesitate, holding onto Nick’s hand and lapping at his palm and fingers, sucking them clean from his come. The taste makes him moan softly, his ears going hot.

He tries to reach for the rosary but Nick takes it away, bringing it to his own mouth to suck clean. The picture of the rosary in Nick’s mouth is enough to get Charlie half hard; he groans, Nick staring right at him as his pink tongue runs over the beads.

“Fuck,” Charlie whispers, his eyelids heavy. Nick sucks the cross into his mouth last, laying it flat and upside down on his tongue. It’s sinful. Charlie tries to grind down again and Nick smacks his hip, pulling the cross out of his mouth with a soft pop.

“I want you bent over the desk, hands by your head. Now.”

Charlie scrambles to obey, even though he can barely feel his legs. They nearly buckle under his weight but he holds himself up using the desk, bending over it easily. His breath already starts fogging up the clean wood, his cheek and bare chest pressed against it, fingers splayed out on either side of his head. He knows the come on his skin is making a mess on the polished surface.

Nick doesn’t do anything for a long time. He doesn’t even stand up from the chair. The anticipation makes Charlie’s heart start beating fast and he’s suddenly embarrassed; this position is so vulnerable. He whimpers, knowing Nick is just staring at him.

Charlie wants to say something. He wants to act up, ask Nick, Are you just going to stare at me? But he doesn’t know what Nick has planned and he wants whatever it is so badly, he’s terrified of ruining his chances of receiving it.

So he licks his lips and whispers, “Please fuck me.” He tries his best to stay still despite his shaking legs. 

It’s quiet for a few more moments and Charlie holds back the urge to squirm. Suddenly, he feels Nick’s hands on his waist and he gasps, biting his lip so he doesn’t disobey and push back against the touch. Nick’s bare fingers on his skin feels like Heaven. Then the realization hits him: Nick must be standing directly behind him and just the thought of his proximity makes a moan escape his throat.

Nick runs his hands from Charlie’s waist to his hips, not letting go, his sweatpants being dragged down a bit. His grip is so tight that Charlie’s body sways backwards, and he whimpers just thinking of Nick thrusting into him like this. Nick’s thumbs dig into his lower back and just like that, Charlie is aching hard again, moaning wantonly. He’s surprised he can’t feel the head of his cock brush against the desk. 

Nick hums quietly. Then murmurs, “Look at you. Such a pretty little thing.”

Charlie tries not to start panting but he can’t help himself. He considers biting his thumb to hide his whimpers but doesn’t know how Nick will react. 

Nick tugs at the band of his pants gently, and asks, “Can I take these off you, sweetheart?”

Charlie licks his lips, trying to stay calm and failing, his breath shaking. “Yes, oh my God. Please take them off me?” 

Nick runs a big hand up Charlie’s back, making him shiver hard before he slowly tugs down the band of his sweatpants. They pool at Charlie’s feet and he swallows so hard it clicks in his throat, realizing that he’s completely naked in front of Nick for the first time. The blush travels down his chest, across his shoulders, to his ears. He makes a soft, embarrassed sound, bringing his fingers to his mouth because he can’t help himself, feeling so shy and exposed that he has to cover his mouth.

Nick groans, quiet and deep, holding onto his hips. He digs his thumbs into his lower back again and murmurs, “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

Charlie obeys without a second thought, despite how shy he feels. He can feel Nick’s fingers running over his skin, over his ass and down to his thighs, then back up again. He wants to scream.

“Please,” he whispers, his eyelids going heavy again. He speaks against the tips of his fingers. “Please, touch me?” 

“Where?” Nick asks, so low it’s practically a grumble in his throat. 

Charlie bites back a whine. “Um, everywhere, I want…” He pushes back against Nick’s hands, licking his lips. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, what?”

Charlie takes a shaky breath, so embarrassed that he has goosebumps. His cock is starting to drip again. “I want you to fuck me, daddy.”

Nick makes a soft sound, like he’s considering. He takes Charlie’s cheek in his hand and squeezes, spreading him apart. Charlie mewls, moving his legs further apart and pushing back. Nick smacks his ass. Charlie jumps at the contact, his gasp shaky and broken. 

“Oh –”

Nick is unaffected, like he’s not done anything. “What’s your color?”

“G-Green, daddy,” Charlie whispers quickly, then gasps again when Nick gives his ass another smack, then another. They’re not too sharp or severe, but Nick’s hands are big and Charlie’s ass already burns. His thighs start shivering harder.

“Good boy,” Nick murmurs, his thumb running over the handprints that are blooming on Charlie’s ass. 

Then he says, “I’m not going to fuck you tonight, sweetheart.” Charlie’s jaw drops like a stone.

“Why?” he whines, trying to rock back against him. “Oh, but I’m right here and I’m all cleaned up and I want it and –”

Nick grabs the back of his neck and presses him down tight against the desk. Charlie chokes out a sound, stunned into silence.

“It’s not about what you want tonight. It’s about what I want. I thought that was clear, Charlie.”

Charlie takes a shaky breath and can’t help but rebut, “But don’t you want to, daddy? To just spread me open and get inside me –”

Nick pulls at his hair, hard. Charlie gasps, his back bowed off the desk from the force of it, having to use his hands to steady himself. His eyes tear up. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, aching to be touched. 

Nick bends closer to speak against his ear. “It’s not too late to send you back to your room, just like this. Do you think I won’t do it?”

Charlie whimpers, broken and shaky. He doesn’t want to believe that Nick would leave him like this, but there’s a big part of him that is horrified at the thought. He contemplates what he wants to say, if he wants to push his luck, but he hears Nick take in a breath like he’s about to say something else and Charlie’s willfulness breaks like glass.

“Please don’t send me back,” Charlie whispers, his voice approaching urgency. He bares his teeth against the pressure of his hair being pulled, the heat pooling like molten lava in his lower tummy. “Please, daddy, I’m sorry. You can do whatever you want to me and I’ll let you. Please?”

Nick eases up on his hair just a bit, just enough to make Charlie sigh in relief. He presses a kiss on Charlie’s neck and murmurs, “You’ll let me do anything I want to you, baby? And why is that?”

Charlie makes a soft sound, trying to lean into Nick’s kiss. His blush is so pink down his chest when he breathes, “Because I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

Nick releases Charlie’s hair and pulls at him by the throat so he’s standing on shaking legs, back against his chest. Charlie gasps at the sudden change, feeling the cross and beads press tight against his skin like he’s being branded, realizing the rosary is back around Nick’s neck. 

Nick turns Charlie’s head to the side and runs their lips together before kissing him. Charlie’s legs nearly give out, and Nick wraps an arm easily around his waist to hold him up as he sucks kisses on his lips, biting and tugging at them with his teeth. He licks into Charlie’s mouth slowly, cupping his jaw and swallowing Charlie’s moans. Charlie clings to the arm around his waist and melts into Nick’s arms, opening his mouth for the man’s tongue, taking in all of his deep, messy kisses. 

Nick hums quietly and licks up Charlie’s chin, sucks on his bottom lip some more and murmurs, “So good for me. All fucking mine,” and Charlie has to hold back from coming untouched at the words alone, moaning. 

Nick smiles against his mouth, like he knows, and quietly instructs, “Get back on the desk.”

Charlie obeys, going back to his position from before, panting even harder now. He feels enveloped with care, and warmth, and he’s so needy he might faint if Nick doesn’t touch him again soon. His skin vibrates from the want that courses through his body. But he tries to settle again, doing his best to be good.

Nick hums, content at what he sees. He gives Charlie’s ass a gentle smack just to hear him gasp and opens his desk drawer.

Charlie nearly holds his breath in anticipation. He has no idea what Nick keeps at his desk but he knows he wants it. He licks his lips, fingers curling against the wood and wiggles his ass back just a little.

Nick smacks his hip this time, hard. Charlie hisses and bares his teeth, but understands. He stays still.

Until he hears the distinct snick of a bottle opening and he gasps. He nearly lifts his upper body off the desk and Nick presses him back down with a firm hand on the middle of his back.

“Stay down.”

“Are you – oh, daddy, what are you gonna do,” Charlie whines, sucking on his bottom lip to try to hide his sounds. He starts shivering at all the thoughts running through his mind; Nick fingering him open, Nick licking into him slow and filthy, Nick sucking him off from behind. He wants all of it.

None of those things happen.

Charlie jumps as he feels cold lube drip down onto his ass. His back arches, not able to stop himself from pushing towards the feeling but he’s unable to move. Nick runs the fingers of his free hand over the lube and spreads it down, in between Charlie’s cheeks and taint and lower, past his balls to his thighs. Nick grabs his inner thighs with purpose, spreading Charlie’s legs apart and lubing them up, until Charlie feels like he’s so wet he’s dripping.

Charlie barely realizes that the sounds he keeps hearing are coming from his own mouth. He’s mewling, broken whimpers and choked sounds escaping him as he clings to the desk, pushing into Nick’s hands with every touch. 

“Nick,” Charlie gasps, panting against the desk. “Daddy, what –”

Nick smacks his ass with a lubed up hand and Charlie squeals, then swallows the sound when Nick lets go of his back and grabs both of his cheeks in his hands, roughly spreading them. He feels something warm drop against his hole, such a contrast to the cold lube and realizes it’s Nick’s spit. Charlie moans, long and deep from the back of his throat as he feels it drips down his taint. 

“Nick, Nick, Nick,” he chants, so hard that it aches. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this turned on in his life. “I’m –”

Nick lets go of him and Charlie hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. His jaw drops and he presses his hips back, hard.

“Oh my God, please fuck me, oh my God. Please,” he babbles, pleading and wanton, and groans when Nick gives him a sharp smack on his ass and grips him hard with both hands.

“I told you to stay still, Charlie,” Nick all but snarls. 

“I can’t help it,” Charlie whimpers. “Please, I want you inside me, I want you to use me up.”

Nick runs his thumb over Charlie’s rim, slow and methodical, barely dipping inside. Charlie’s eyes roll back. He feels himself coming apart at the seams, barely clinging to sanity.

“I’m going to use you up, if you’re good,” Nick says quietly. “Can you be good?”

Charlie feels like he might burst into flames. He nods against the desk. “Yes, I can be good, daddy. I’ll be so good.”

Nick holds onto his hip so tight that it stings and Charlie hopes there are bruises. He hears Nick moan and the sounds of something being slicked up; he has to bite his hand to stop himself from whining, wanting to know what Nick is doing, if he’s really lubing himself up right behind his body. 

Charlie doesn’t get a chance to ask because he can suddenly feel how heavy Nick’s cock is, resting against his ass. He gasps, trying to push back against him but Nick’s grip on him does not falter. Nick runs the head of his cock down between his cheeks, letting it catch against Charlie’s rim and running over it again with a sigh.

Charlie starts trembling again. He chokes out broken sounds, going on his tippy toes for more but part of him starts to feel nervous. He cleaned himself in the shower but didn’t stretch himself out. He knows Nick is big and the thought is overwhelming, but it’s like Nick can hear his thoughts because he starts talking.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight, sweetheart,” he reminds him quietly, tapping the head of his cock against Charlie’s hole, making him whimper pathetically. There’s a smile in his voice as he continues. “Not the way you want me to, anyway.”

Charlie sucks on his bottom lip, feeling himself start to drift off into that now familiar space when Nick treats him like this; like life is barely real and all he exists for is to feel good, and to make Nick feel good – his own, personal taste of the divine.

“I want it,” he hears himself whisper, not even knowing what it is. “Please?”

Nick hums. “I know you do, sweet boy. Bring your thighs together for me.”

Charlie doesn’t hesitate to obey and he finally, finally understands. Nick opens the lube again and must be dripping it all over his cock because he sighs, stepping closer to Charlie’s body and grabbing his hip again.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty thighs,” Nick murmurs. “What’s your color, Charlie?”

“Green,” Charlie whimpers, already near tears just at the thought. He squeezes his thighs together because he knows Nick is looking, must be able to see how the lube is sliding down his skin, how it’s reaching his knees at this point. 

Nick groans as he presses his cock in between Charlie’s thighs, and slowly fucks into them, until their hips are pressed flush together.

Charlie feels like his entire body is set aflame. He chokes on whatever sound tries to escape him, his fingers running over the desk until it starts to dampen, his mouth fogging up the wood from his panting. Nick is so fucking big. His body feels huge like this in general, strong hands gripping his hips as he stands tall behind him. Nick feels heavy between his thighs, the head of his cock reaching past Charlie’s balls in this angle. It feels so fucking good, Charlie can barely breathe with it.

“Nick,” he whispers, barely a sound because he’s so overwhelmed, sweat beading against his temples as his hands shake. Nick runs a hand up Charlie’s back, attempting to soothe him.

“You feel so fucking good,” Nick murmurs. “Christ.”

He pulls out nearly all the way before pressing back in again, harder this time. There’s a sound when their hips reconnect, filthy and wet and they both gasp. Nick squeezes his hips so tight it hurts and whispers, “Charlie, I’m –”

“Please,” Charlie begs, his eyes welling up with tears. “Oh my God, fuck me.”

Nick doesn’t hesitate after that. He takes a shaky breath and starts fucking Charlie’s thighs with earnest, fingers hooking hard into his hips as he thrusts, deep and long every time. 

They’re both panting within seconds. Charlie’s mouth opens against the desk, lips running over the smooth wood as his fingers try to grasp at nothing. He couldn’t push back if he tried, not able to move a muscle as Nick uses him up and the feeling is exhilarating; he feels completely at Nick’s mercy, not able to do a thing but moan and beg and take it.

“Nick,” Charlie gasps, his eyes shutting from the pleasure, his cock dripping onto the floor with every hard thrust. “God, Nick. ”

Nick is moaning from deep in his throat each time he bottoms out. He runs one of his hands up Charlie’s back and hooks it over his shoulder, the thrusts becoming even harder. Charlie would do anything to see Nick’s face and he turns towards the hand on his shoulder and moans, his mouth fallen open.

“Fuck,” Nick groans. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, baby.” He breathes hard as he fucks Charlie, moving his hand to squeeze the back of his neck instead. “You take it so fucking good. ”

Charlie whines as he feels his eyes heat up from the tears that want to fall, feeling so deeply overwhelmed and insatiable, his legs trembling. He wants to come.

“Daddy, I’m close,” he complains, his voice going high pitched from the whine, the desk wet where his mouth is pressed against it. “I wanna come, please, can I –”

Nick smacks his ass so hard the words completely fizzle out into a sob. He grabs both of Charlie’s hips again and fucks him harder, the sounds of his thrusts echoing in the room, filthy and obscene. 

“No,” Nick bites, his voice shaking just a bit. It makes Charlie want to cry from how affected Nick sounds. “You’ll come when I’m ready.”

The tears start running down Charlie’s face at the denial. He sobs again, wanting to touch himself, needing relief but not able to reach and he chokes out, “Please, daddy, I’m – fuck me, I want you to fuck me.” 

Nick lets out a quiet laugh, breathless and so fucking hot as he smacks Charlie again. There’s no way his ass isn’t bright red. “I am fucking you, baby. You can’t feel me?”

Nick brings one of his hands towards Charlie’s front. He completely ignores his cock, and presses his fingers against Charlie’s lower stomach, bringing him in harder with each thrust. 

“You’re thinking about me deep inside you, huh, sweetheart?” Nick asks quietly, slowing down so Charlie can feel each time he bottoms out hard against his ass. 

“Yes,” Charlie whimpers, shaky from the tears. “God, I want you deep. ”

Nick grunts, speeding up his thrusts. He tightens his hold on Charlie’s lower stomach, digging his fingers in. Charlie squeals, the pressure building so fast inside himself that he has to bite back a scream.

Nick is smirking again, laughing when he says, “Mm, I’m gonna be so deep inside you, baby boy. You’re gonna feel me right here, all up in your tummy. That’s what you want, huh?”

Charlie’s eyes flutter back into his head. He moans, broken and loud and whimpers, “Oh, I’m gonna come. Please daddy, let me come, I can’t –”

“Beg,” Nick demands, speeding up more. He moans after he says it, quiet and shaky. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Charlie mouths at the wood as he speaks, feeling his ears heat up as he starts to babble. “Please, want you inside me, I want – I want you to stretch me out and lick me open and fucking – give it to me deep and hard, I want you to come inside me please, please fill me up just – pump me full, I wanna come –”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Nick groans, breathless and gorgeous. He clings to Charlie’s hips again, using him up to the point where it hurts, Charlie’s thighs trembling from being pressed together, his cock aching and leaking between his legs. 

“Gonna get you filthy,” Nick murmurs. “Pump you so full it’ll drip down your fucking thighs.”

Nick grabs at Charlie’s hair, tugging just a bit as he fucks into him. “Come for me,” he all but snarls, his words coming out tight and hissed like he’s gritting his teeth. “Come all over the floor like this, just for me.”

Charlie comes so hard that he cries. The sound that escapes him can only be described as a wail, and he shoves part of his palm into his mouth to try to muffle it but it barely works. Nick reaches down to his cock, giving him his fingers to thrust against and Charlie slams his fists against the desk, arching his chest off the surface. 

“Oh fuck me, fuck me, thank you,” Charlie sobs, bucking towards Nick’s hand and back against his cock. “God, daddy, like that, it feels so good.” He starts to shake again, feeling his mind start to float away, feeling like he’s barely in the room, the only focus on his mind the waves of pleasure rushing through his body and Nick.

“I want you to come,” he whines, throwing his head back and leaning on his elbows. “All over me, Nick. Please?”

Nick’s grunt is so deep it nearly startles Charlie. He presses Charlie down against the desk with a firm hand on his lower back. He pulls out from between Charlie’s thighs, the sound so obscene it makes them both gasp. Charlie whimpers at the loss.

“Fuck,” Nick whispers, shaky and so fucking hot, and Charlie can tell he’s stroking his cock. He moans at just the thought and arches back again, spreading his thighs so Nick can see how messy, how ready and good he is. Nick groans, loud and broken, smacking his ass again.

“Oh, baby, you’re fucking – perfect, Jesus Christ,” Nick swears and Charlie gasps when he feels Nick’s come hit his skin, hot and dripping. It feels like being branded and the thought makes his eyes roll back again, moaning nearly as loud as Nick is, pushing his hips back for more.

“God, look at you,” Nick murmurs, still panting and coming down from his orgasm, and he runs his fingers through the come on Charlie’s ass and thighs. Charlie whimpers, feeling so filthy. His arousal only gets worse when Nick sits in his chair and leans forward, grabbing his hips with both hands and licking his skin clean.

Charlie is thankful for the hands holding him down because his legs give out at the feeling of Nick’s tongue so close to where he desperately wants it. He moans so softly, over and over and with every stroke of Nick’s tongue, goosebumps rising on his thighs and arms. He wants to be loud but his voice keeps breaking, his throat feeling raw. He still wiggles his ass back as Nick mouths at his skin, and feels his eyes start to close.

Charlie is not sure how much time passes before his chest is being lifted gently off the desk. He can’t hold himself up but there are arms surrounding his waist and keeping him upright. He blinks and suddenly he’s sitting on Nick’s lap again, in the same position as before; he leans his head back and rests it on the man’s shoulder, making quiet sounds. 

“Shh, I got you, sweetheart,” Nick whispers and Charlie smiles, nuzzling against his neck. Nick laughs softly and it’s for sure Charlie’s favorite sound on earth. 

Charlie can feel his sweatpants being put back on, and he squirms because he doesn’t want to have to move at all. Nick laughs at him again, so gentle and sweet and presses kisses on his cheek, murmuring, “I know, I know. I’ll let you rest so soon.”

Charlie definitely falls asleep for a few minutes. When he blinks his eyes open, he’s in the same position, being held tight by Nick’s arms around his waist. Nick keeps nuzzling against his neck and peppering kisses down his shoulders. He smiles when he feels Charlie begin to stir.

“Baby,” Nick whispers. “Do you think you can stand?”

Charlie makes a face at the thought. He doesn’t want to leave yet. He wants to be held. 

Nick shushes him softly before he even begins to whine. “I’m not making you leave, sweetheart. I’m bringing you to my dorm. Is that okay with you?”

Charlie takes a shaky breath and turns to look at him, his eyes widening. “Really?” he asks, his voice sounding raspy to his ears.

Nick’s cheeks are pink but he nods. “Yeah. I want to take care of you. Will you let me?”

Charlie nods at him, though he’s still confused. “What about…”

Nick gives him a soft kiss, cupping his jaw. “Let me worry about that, yeah? It’s late enough, no one will see us. You have your uniform for tomorrow?”

Charlie nods again, so thankful that he thought ahead, though he definitely did not expect this.

Nick smiles and helps him stand on shaky legs. They leave the office as quickly as they can. It’s a tough walk there, considering how tired Charlie is and how they can’t risk even holding hands, but Nick’s dorm is much closer than Charlie’s. His dorm isn’t with the other teachers, who get an entire building to themselves, since he’s just a mentor; he shares a hallway with a few RA’s, and there are way fewer doors and people to deal with in general. The privacy is nice, Nick tells him, but Charlie can barely focus. His legs are sore, he’s exhausted to his marrow and just wants to be held.

Nick unlocks the door and Charlie steps inside. He’s too tired to really process or appreciate what’s happening; he’s been thinking about this happening for so long, but the moment that Nick pulls him close, he’s putty in his arms.

Nick makes a soft sound as he gives him kisses, slowly taking off his shirt again. Charlie can feel himself start to get interested in more; it’s so fucking easy when Nick is the one touching his skin, but the exhaustion wins over. He leans heavily against Nick’s body and shivers.

“I know, sweet boy. I was gonna get in the shower with you but you’re too sleepy to stand for me, huh?” Nick asks, caressing his face. Charlie whimpers at the thought of standing too long, knowing damn well he’ll regret saying no to showering with Nick in the morning. But he can barely stay awake, his eyes half closed.

Nick smiles as he leads Charlie to his bed. “Yeah. Let me clean you up though, okay? Can you stay awake for me just a little longer?”

Charlie sits on Nick’s bed and nods his head slowly, blinking up at him. “I’ll try,” he says softly and Nick cups his jaw with both hands, giving him a few soft kisses because he can’t help himself. 

“I’ll be right back,” Nick says and goes into his bathroom. Charlie rubs at his eyes and tries his best to not fall asleep. He looks around Nick’s room and isn’t surprised at how plain it looks; there’s nothing on his walls, much like how his office looked when he first moved into it. It’s all so clean and tidy. There’s a bible on his nightstand and Charlie is tempted to open it, but doesn’t have time because Nick returns quickly, holding a hand towel.

He kisses Charlie again once he’s close enough and says in a low voice, “I’m gonna take these off you so I can clean you up, okay?” He gently tugs on the waistband of his pants and Charlie can feel himself start to blush, as if Nick wasn’t fucking his thighs moments ago. 

But he nods, helping Nick take his pants off. Nick takes his time cleaning up his tummy, ass and thighs with the warm, wet towel. He presses gentle kisses on Charlie’s hips, where they’re both sure he’s going to bruise. Even half-asleep, Charlie vibrates with excitement at the thought. 

Charlie’s mind begins to quieten when Nick rubs lotion on the hand prints on Charlie’s ass so gently, making a quiet cooing sound when he hisses softly, sensitive and stinging. Charlie feels like he’s floating in another world entirely, so thankful to be taken care of by Nick. It feels like a dream, like something that could never be acquired before. Like something he prayed for.

“Okay, baby. You’re doing so well,” Nick whispers, kissing up his chest. “Let me get you some pants to sleep in, yeah?” He gives Charlie a soft peck on his lips, doing it again when Charlie hums and smiles.

Charlie’s face is hot from the praise and he revels in it, blinking slowly as he watches Nick walk to his dresser. He brings over pajama pants for both of them and Charlie giggles.

“Are they matching?” he asks and Nick laughs, his cheeks going pink. 

“Yeah, I have two of the same pair. You like them?” 

Charlie nods, blushing himself at the thought of them wearing matching anything. He slips on the loose, comfortable pants with Nick’s help and lays down immediately, snuggling into the pillow. He breathes it in, humming so quietly at the smell and warmth.

He must fall asleep because the next thing he realizes is Nick’s body pressed up against him. He sighs, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist and Nick laughs so softly, pressing kisses against his forehead and holding him close. 

“You’re the sweetest thing,” Nick murmurs. “Did you know?”

Charlie makes a quiet sound, breathing in Nick’s neck instead and it’s so much better than his pillow. “Mm, no. I didn’t.” He runs his hands over Nick’s sides and up his toned chest, down his back. He can’t believe he’s allowed to touch Nick all he wants.

Nick laughs again. “You can touch me as much as you want, sweetheart.”

The realization that he said that out loud makes  his cheeks burn; something like embarrassment, but not quite. He’s so soothed by Nick’s presence, by his touch, and just wants to melt into this feeling forever. “You can touch me too,” he quietly offers. From the heaviness of his limbs, his eyelids, he knows he’ll be asleep within moments, but still he asks: “Will you sing me to sleep?” 

Nick humors him, though. He covers them both in his blanket, so warm that it makes Charlie shiver and nuzzle against his skin. He runs his fingers into Charlie’s curls and starts singing, so quietly. 

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

Charlie feels like he recognizes this song, but he’s too sleepy to put his finger on it. He focuses on how dreamy the melody sounds in Nick’s smooth, beautiful voice. He’s half asleep when he realizes the cross hanging over Nick’s bed really is in the exact same spot as his own. He feels held in this moment, physically and emotionally and spiritually. He takes a shaky breath against Nick’s neck, and allows himself to feel protected and safe in his arms as he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Waking up in Nick’s arms feels like a dream come true. 

Charlie takes his time nuzzling against Nick’s neck, breathing in his warm skin as gently as possible, allowing Nick to sleep in a bit more. He looks beautiful like this. Charlie watches him for a bit, feeling his arms cover with goosebumps at the thought that he could have this forever; that Nick genuinely likes him and wants to take care of him. It’s surreal. 

He looks at the cross hanging above Nick’s bed and wonders if God is truly watching over them –  if this beautiful thing between the two of them is protected in His eyes and hands.

Nick wakes up a few moments later, humming at the feeling of Charlie’s kisses against his neck and chin. He smiles and runs his thumb over Charlie’s bottom lip before giving him a kiss.

Charlie pouts. “My breath –”

“Don’t even start,” Nick murmurs and Charlie laughs against his mouth as they kiss again. Cozy and comfortable. Charlie could fall back asleep any second.

“Mm,” Nick hums. “Bring some toiletries to keep here, next time. So you can shower and stuff, too.”

Charlie’s face goes hot at the thought. He nods his head and smiles, thankful this won’t be the last time. “Okay. I wanna shower with you.”

Nick laughs softly. “I know, baby. We will.”

He will runs his fingers through Charlie’s hair and sighs. “It’s gonna be a busy week though, hm?”

Charlie frowns at the thought alone. Exam week is never fun, especially now that Charlie has gotten used to seeing Nick so often.

“Yeah. I hate it already,” he grumbles and Nick makes a soft sound, kissing his forehead.

“I know. Hopefully it will fly by,”  Nick says, looking into his eyes. “And you can still text me, and stop by the office as much as you want, yeah?”

Charlie nods, trying to bite back a pout. “Yeah. You’ll be busy though, won’t you? Mentoring or whatever?”

Nick laughs, pinching his cheek. “Yeah, most likely. But that’s okay. You can focus on your schoolwork, and I’ll still be here when exams are over.”

Charlie blushes. “Yeah? You’re not gonna leave in the middle of exam week and leave me stranded and alone?” 

Nick makes a face and taps Charlie’s nose gently. “I would never do that to you.”

Charlie bites his lip, running his hand up Nick’s chest and settling it just under his collarbone, feeling his heartbeat. “You promise?”

Nick takes a hold of his hand and kisses the back of his fingers. “I promise,” he smiles. “You’re stuck with me now.”

-

Seeing Nick during Mass after spending the night in his bed is a feeling Charlie will never forget. 

Charlie is more distracted than ever. He can’t stop staring at his mentor up at the altar. He can’t stop thinking about their night spent together, and all their future nights. 

Part of Charlie feels terrified at the thought; the part that feels like he’s easy to abandon, easy to move on from. This thing between the two of them, regardless of how beautiful it is, is still so very new. Regardless of Nick’s promises, it would be easy for it to crumble; for Nick to leave him behind and find something better. Who is Charlie to believe that he could truly have this?

Charlie’s nerves feel frayed with anxiety. It takes a minute for him to realize his leg is vibrating off the pew and that he’s been chewing on his lip when he looks up and catches Nick’s eye. Nick holds his gaze, bites his own lip and raises his eyebrows, not letting his own lip go until Charlie follows suit.  Even in front of all these people, the thought that Nick is attempting to take care of him gives Charlie butterflies. 

Charlie tries to settle his bouncing leg, too. He tries to believe that Nick genuinely cares, that Nick wouldn’t promise him that he’ll stay just to run away in the end. Charlie looks heavenward, toward the massive cross hanging above the altar, to the statue of Mary surrounded by candles in the corner of the room, and listens to the hymns vibrating inside his skull. He closes his eyes, and he prays. 

Protect me, and him, and both of us. If I can have him, if I am allowed to have this, if I am allowed to be free and released from these shackles placed on me my entire life, I’m all yours. You’ll have dominion over me. Show me that the suffering was all worth it, and I’ll be at your feet.

-

The week starts off shitty and continues down that same trajectory as each day passes.

Charlie is slammed with studying for exams that he doesn’t care for, on top of having to complete schoolwork that is irrelevant to him. He spends every spare moment attempting to continue his college applications and working on his film; Elle helps him as much as she can while drowning in her own workload, art pieces due left and right.

Charlie manages to see Nick on Monday and Tuesday; they spend lunch together in Nick’s office but most of the time they talk about school and Charlie’s plans for college, which ends up being stressful and not relaxing in the least. He doesn’t want to mention his fears regarding his father, or the fears that the school he wants to attend won’t give him the time of day. He itches to climb onto Nick’s lap and forget about it all. 

Nick is just as stressed, the amount of students coming to him for mentorship nearly tripling within a few days. He enjoys his job and is good at it, but the sheer volume is overwhelming. Charlie loses his chance to see him by Wednesday, a sign-up sheet having to be placed on Nick’s door for scheduling visits with him being filled up.

Charlie texts him Thursday afternoon, feeling petty and frustrated. 

me: you’re a hot commodity 

n: release me from this hell

It makes Charlie laugh out loud and his anxieties soothe for a couple of hours, only for it to return in full force when he’s alone in bed. He finds that all he has time for is to stress and smoke his cigarettes in solitude, wishing Elle was available to keep him some company or that he could be laying in Nick’s arms and forgetting about everything that’s making him panic.

Being by himself was much easier than this, Charlie thinks. Once he got the taste of what it felt like to be friends with someone, or to be truly cared for, nothing else compares. He finds himself craving intimacy in a way he never has before. He’d do just about anything to sit on the floor of Elle’s room and talk about movies, or be in Nick’s office or room and listen to music. 

The feeling scares him. Wanting to be needed, craving that intimacy, is terrifying. It’s only ever hurt him before. Why would this time be any different?

By Friday, Charlie is exhausted and miserable. He fights through his last exams with bleary eyes, his phone painfully dry, one last cigarette remaining in his pack. He wants to lie down and sleep the entire weekend away. 

Charlie makes it back to his dorm and throws his bag onto his desk chair, tugging off his dress shirt and uniform pants, wanting nothing more than to shower and crawl into bed. He makes it halfway to the bathroom before his phone starts to vibrate on his bed. 

He rushes to it, hoping that by some miracle Elle’s art exam got canceled or that Nick found some time to give him a quick call. 

But the phone is buzzing with an incoming call, and it reads, Father.

Charlie stares at the screen with wide eyes, his body paralyzed with fear. He hasn’t heard from his father since he left home at the beginning of this school year, which is how they both prefer it. There’s no way in Hell he’s calling just to say hello.

Charlie waits for the call to go to voicemail, tense and trying to catch his breath. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays.

Please. Please don’t call again. Please –

The phone buzzes back to life, another incoming call. Charlie swears the vibration is even more intense this time, loud and piercing in his ears. The word Father seems to mock him; it used to say Dad when he was much younger, then Hell Spawn for years. Charlie settled for this contact name once the thought of being caught with a name like that on his phone by a teacher became  untenable. 

Charlie wants to ignore the call. He knows it will only be worse if he does.

He answers and presses the phone to his ear with a shaky hand.

“Hello?”

“So you do have access to the phone I pay for monthly. That’s good to know.”

Charlie squeezes his eyes shut, anger already coiling inside his stomach like a venomous snake. It’s astounding how quickly Charlie feels less than when hearing this man’s voice, the condescending tone sending him down a spiral.

“Yes, I do,” he bites out, attempting to make his voice sound calmer than it is.

“Why didn’t you pick up when I first called?”

Because I don’t want to fucking talk to you. Because I don’t owe you shit.

“I was just about to get in the shower,” Charlie lies. He can feel the I’m sorry hitting the back of his teeth, struggling not to escape. He swallows it back, its bitter taste making him feel sick.

His father makes a huffing sound. Charlie clenches his jaw. 

“I haven’t received any more angry emails from your teachers, so I gather exams have been going well.”

Charlie takes a few seconds to breathe. He knows there is no chance that his teachers didn’t reach out to his father after he punched that kid that tore up his backpack a few weeks ago. But this is his first confirmation of it. 

Part of him wants to explain, say that it was all he could do to protect himself; that no one else would have offered to protect him, clearly. A deeper part wants to shout, You sent me here on purpose. You know that the faculty and students here don’t accept me. You set me up to fail.

Instead he says, trying to keep his voice monotone and expressionless,  “Exams have been fine.” 

It was the wrong answer, clearly, because there’s a pause and then a short, staccato laugh. It’s dry and hideous in its incredulity.  

“Is that really all you have to say for yourself?”

Charlie is exhausted. He knows that his father is trying to antagonize him, but he doesn’t want to fight. If he starts yelling he’s not sure he’d be able to stop and that’s exactly what his father wants. Charlie sits down on his bed and covers his eyes with a shaking hand.

“There’s not much else to say,” is what comes out of his mouth. His voice sounds soft, and it quivers like a timid animal – a lamb. Charlie hates that regardless of how angry he feels, he still sounds and feels so small and feeble when his father is involved. It makes his blood boil at the same time that it makes him want to curl up into bed and cry.

There are a few seconds of silence and Charlie hopes that the call fell through, though that feels too good to be true. This silence can mean so many things. His leg starts to bounce and he pulls at the sensitive skin on his lips with his teeth, like he’s been doing all week. 

“I sent you to that school to get a proper education and, if at all possible, some manners.” His father’s words are coarse; severe. “From my end, it doesn’t seem to be working.”

You sent me here because it’s prison, Charlie wants to yell. He can feel the rage trying to burst out of his chest at being talked down to like this. The anger begins to manifest as sorrow and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the tears away, doing his best to calm his shaking breaths.

As much as Charlie wants to agree with his father, that this school has been terrible and nothing good has come of being here, it’s not the truth – not in the way his father thinks. Charlie has met Elle, making a connection in his own community that he never thought he’d get to have, and a chance to dive into a creative outlet he only ever dreamed of exploring. He’s met Nick, who has shown him an entire new world that resides inside himself. 

Charlie can’t agree with his father and have this little bit of reprieve taken away, not when he’s so close to graduating and moving on forever. Disagreeing isn’t an option either, because that would be disrespectful and he wants the conversation to end. It wouldn’t do him any good to make matters worse. 

So Charlie capitulates. He lies and says, “I’m sorry. I’ve been rude,” swallowing what little bit of his pride he has left. He clenches his jaw so tight that he can feel a headache start to pound in his temples. 

His father makes a satisfied sound. Charlie wants to punch him. 

“That’s a little better.” Smugness rolls off him in waves. Charlie yearns to punch him. “Have you been doing anything other than moping in your room and getting into fights?”

Charlie really wants to punch him. He bites his lip hard in an attempt to not blurt out something sarcastic about having filthy sex with his mentor any chance he gets. He decides to use this situation to his advantage, instead.

“Yeah, I’ve been working with one of the new mentors. I spend a lot of time in his office, actually.”

His father pauses and then says, “That’s good to hear. Have you been learning from him?”

Charlie feels a smile tug at his lips. “Yes. I’ve been learning so much.”

“Like what?”

Charlie swallows hard. He doesn’t lie. “Discipline, mostly.”

The man makes a satisfied sound. “Good. You’ll need discipline for where you’re going next year.”

Charlie’s entire body freezes like when he first saw the phone vibrate. He can feel his hands start to shake harder as confusion sets in.

“We don’t know where I’m going next year yet,” Charlie says quietly. But he’s not sure if he’s trying to remind his father or convince himself.

His father makes another sound, more like a laugh this time. It makes Charlie’s insides go cold. 

“We’ll see, Charlie. I’ll reach out again before the term is over.”

He ends the call and Charlie sits there, the phone still pressed against his ear, stone cold. It takes him a long time to unclench his jaw, to allow his mouth to open for a shaky breath to be released. 

Charlie isn’t sure what his father could mean by what he said. He can feel the perfectly controlled coils inside of his mind begin to unravel as doubt creeps into his thoughts, undoing all of the hard work he’s done these past few months. Without his father around, and knowing freedom was so close, he had really begun to believe that this was it. That his father would release him into the world like a dove and everything would be fine. All the oppression he’s been dealing with will be a thing of the past, and his next step would allow him to be human and himself, without hiding, without shame, without religion being forced into his life.

Where you’re going next year sounds like a set plan. It sounds like a threat. It’s another way to control him. Another year of this – a year that feels like an eternity, another painful forever.

Charlie doesn’t realize he’s panicking until his vision starts to spot and blur, a thick gasp shaking out of his chest, a desperation clawing at him to breathe. The phone falls onto the bed and his hands fly to his throat and mouth, trying to take in deep breaths but he can’t. They choke out of him in broken gasps and he starts to cry, hot tears running down his face and dripping onto his neck.

“No,” Charlie all but sobs, pain radiating through his chest, an ache he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in months. He presses his palms against his eyes and sobs, “No, no, no, no. ”

Charlie won’t survive another year of this. Of being controlled, monitored, his every move being judged, not having ownership of his own body and choices. He wants to live. He’s so tired of feeling ashamed. He’s so tired of his wings being clipped.

Charlie thinks of all his hard work, of his film, thinks about his dreams. His heart feels like it’s breaking in his chest. He curls his fingers in his hair and tugs, sobs wracking through him until he starts to ache all over, feeling like a bruise.

The anger comes hot and swift inside of himself, burning through all the sorrow. He groans and throws his phone against the wall, not wanting to see it, wanting to be as far from his father as possible. It hits with a loud thud against the wall and smacks onto the floor. Charlie notices that the screen seems fine and the thought fills him with rage.

Charlie wants to destroy something. He grabs his pillow and pulls at it with both hands, biting into the soft fabric and screaming , his anger and frustration and dread just barely muffled by the cotton. He wants to punch something. He wants someone else to feel the pain he’s in. He cries, glaring at the cross hanging above his bed; the urge to pry it off the wall and smash it against the floor is nearly animalistic.

Charlie’s phone buzzes to life again and dread completely washes over his body. He lets out a sob, thinking, Hasn’t he had enough? He needs to hear me cry to feel the satisfaction of breaking me, is that it?

“Shut up!” Charlie yells, wishing he had a hammer to smash it to bits. He stands to pick up the phone from the floor, preparing himself to scream every obscenity he knows at his father. But just as he’s about to answer, his vision clears and he can read the name on the screen.

Nick.

Charlie stares at the phone. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He doesn’t understand why the tears start to come even faster just from seeing Nick’s name. He whimpers and closes his eyes, trying to decide if he wants to answer.

Half of him wants to self-isolate. He wants to turn the phone off and curl into bed and never talk to Nick or Elle again. He feels shame from talking to his father; he doesn’t truly deserve the good things that have happened to him, and it would be best to cut it all off from now. 

The other half craves Nick’s attention. Not only that, but his discipline. Charlie wants to feel a hurt he can control. He wants to be so devoured that he goes under, that no single thought can be formed in his mind, that he can escape and forget and just simply feel. He wants to be owned, abused. He wants to be punished by Nick. It’s what he deserves.

Charlie attempts to steady himself, still shaking from the nerves. He doesn’t want Nick to know he’s been crying. He answers the phone before it goes to voicemail. 

“Hey, baby,” Nick says, his voice warm like sunlight. “I have a few minutes, how was your last exam?” 

Charlie can hear Nick’s smile through the phone. He squeezes his eyes shut, his entire resolve crumbling. He tries to breathe out but a sob escapes him instead.

“Baby?” Nick asks, the pitch of his voice rising with alarm. “Are you – Is everything okay?”

Charlie covers his eyes with his free hand, embarrassed. His face goes so hot, all the way down to his neck. He chokes out, “Nick…”

“Charlie,” Nick says, firm but concerned. “Are you hurt? Where are you?”

He whimpers, not sure how to answer the question and not wanting to worry Nick any further. “I’m – I’m in my room, it’s –”

“Do you need me?”

Yes. Please. I need you.

“If – If you’re busy, you don’t need to – I can –”

“Baby, don’t.” Charlie can hear the rustling of papers, drawers closing. “Go to my room. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll see you so soon, okay?”

Charlie feels relief hit his body so suddenly that his legs nearly give out. He barely bites back a sob. He nods before saying, “O-Okay,” when he remembers Nick can’t see him.

The next few moments are a blur. Charlie stuffs some sleep clothes and toiletries in a bag. He clenches his jaw as he puts his uniform back on, feeling so stifled by the fabric that he nearly chokes on the feeling. His eyes burn from crying, swollen and sensitive to the touch. There is still so much anger in him; his hands still shake from the adrenaline. He keeps getting flashes from the conversation with his father and he squeezes his fists tighter and tighter every time, digging his nails into his palms. 

Charlie walks slowly to Nick’s dorm. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself and he wants to set his mind on the correct path. He’s not going to cry all over Nick. He’s going to show up and demand to be used so he can forget. It’s all he wants.

Charlie barely brushes his knuckles over Nick’s door before it’s swung open. He walks inside and is immediately faced with Nick, who is still wearing his usual work clothes.

Nick looks into Charlie’s eyes, searching for answers. His eyebrows are furrowed, taking in Charlie’s appearance. He barely takes a hold of Charlie’s cold hands before he whispers, “Oh, baby. What –”

Charlie doesn’t give him the chance to ask. He grabs at Nick’s shirt with both hands and tugs him down, their lips slamming together. Nick gasps against his mouth, hands flutter on Charlie’s waist, unsure and hesitating.

Charlie whimpers against his mouth, running his hands down to the buttons of Nick’s shirt, undoing the garment with shaky hands. “Please kiss me,” Charlie pleads, nipping at Nick’s bottom lip and feeling up his chest.

“Charlie,” Nick whispers, allowing himself to be kissed but not reciprocating. He squeezes Charlie’s waist, trying to pull them gently apart.

“Please,” Charlie all but whimpers, clinging to the fabric of Nick’s shirt. “Please just kiss me, I want – I need you to touch me, please –”

“Charlie,” Nick says. He pulls Charlie’s fingers off his chest and squeezes them, making a quiet sound. “Your hands are freezing –”

“I don’t care, I just want –”

“Baby, you’re crying,” Nick says, cupping his face with both hands. Charlie sobs, just now realizing his cheeks are wet again, tears pooling against Nick’s fingers. 

“No,” he sniffs. “I’m – I’m okay, I just –”

“Charlie. You are not okay,” Nick says, much more firm, though his voice softens to a near whisper. “You don’t have to pretend with me, sweetheart.”

Charlie can feel his face, his entire resolve crumble once more. His chin trembles, his lips curling into a frown as more tears start to fall.

“I don’t want to feel,” Charlie sobs, covering Nick’s hands on his face with his own. “Please help me forget, I don’t want to think.”

Nick shakes his head, his brows furrowed. “Baby, you know I’m here for you, but we’re not doing anything until we talk about it first.” 

Charlie tries to hold back what feels like a scream building in his chest, a small cry leaving his lips instead. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk,” he whimpers. “I want to disappear.”

Nick lets out a wounded sound, kissing Charlie’s forehead. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready, sweetheart, but I’m not letting you disappear, either.” He runs his fingers through Charlie’s curls behind his ears, going up the back of his head. Charlie shivers in his hands.

Nick uses his thumb to wipe at the tears on Charlie’s cheeks, giving him a soft kiss. It coaxes Charlie’s eyes open a tiny bit. Nick’s eyes are wide and as gentle as his touch. 

 “Will you let me take care of you? Hm? Calm you down a bit so we can talk about this?”

Charlie whines and leans into Nick’s touch, craving the affection he’s being offered. It nearly makes his eyes close, wanting to submit to the feeling, wanting someone else to comfort and take care of him for a change.

Nick gives Charlie another kiss, humming against his mouth, and it’s a wonder how soothed it makes Charlie feel. “Will you get in the shower with me?” Nick asks quietly. “So we can get all warm in bed together?”

Charlie nods, feeling more tears run down his face. He doesn’t know if he deserves this, this attention and adoration from Nick, but he wants it. He wants it regardless. He chooses to let himself have it.

Nick takes such good care of him. He undresses Charlie, giving him kisses all over his face and shoulders as he goes. He sets the water to the perfect temperature and pulls Charlie under the stream, getting his cold skin warmed up, running his big palms over Charlie’s skin with sweet smelling soap. Nick washes Charlie’s hair, getting his curls shampooed and conditioned as he hums quietly under his breath, massaging Charlie’s scalp. It feels warm, and careful, and so good.

Charlie imagines this is what baptism is supposed to feel like. He cries the entire time, silent tears joining in with the stream of water, allowing himself to be loved and taken care of, in spite of his brain saying that this is too good for him. That this could never truly belong to someone like him.

Nick wraps Charlie up in a soft towel, using another to dry his hair. It makes Charlie smile for the first time all day, the way Nick is so careful with his ears and with making sure all of his curls are detangled with his fingers. Nick smiles back at him and kisses his nose.

They’re in bed quickly after that, both wearing comfortable pajama bottoms and soft shirts from Nick’s drawers. Charlie’s hands rest against Nick’s chest and stomach, Nick’s hands rubbing circles up his back. Charlie’s hair is wrapped in a cotton t-shirt which just makes him cry more; it makes him think of how he never got this type of attention from his family growing up. He barely had an emotional connection with anyone at home, let alone anyone who gave a shit enough to care about his hair and curl patterns; his unexpressed needs. He snuggles closer to Nick.

Nick doesn’t force him to speak. He just rubs Charlie’s back slowly, his own eyes resting closed as he hums a sweet song. It sounds like a lullaby and Charlie is nearly lulled to sleep, his eyes burning and heavy from the crying, when Nick softly says, “I’m always here for you, baby. I hope you know you can tell me anything, and I’ll never judge you.”

Charlie swallows hard. He doesn’t want to go into detail, doesn’t have the capacity to, but he whispers, “My father called.”

Nick’s eyes are still closed but he flinches like he got slapped. He tightens his hold on Charlie’s body, pulling him in closer, arms wrapping around his waist. He presses a kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Charlie doesn’t have much information about Nick’s relationship to his own father, but he knows there’s enough tension, weight and knowing in his tone for Charlie to feel that he relates. He knows he could just leave it at that and Nick would understand, but something in Nick’s reaction to his words tugs at his heart to continue.

“It wasn’t… good. I hadn’t talked to him in months but all of it came rushing back to me like no time had passed,” Charlie says quietly. “I felt like I was ten, or even younger.” He closes his eyes, trying to hold back more tears. “He still scares me so much. I wish I could talk to him without reacting like this, but he’s so…” Charlie shrugs, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wish I could handle it better. I wish I was strong.”

Nick gently takes a hold of Charlie’s chin, tilting his head up so their eyes can meet. He runs his thumb over Charlie’s jaw, over his bottom lip until his teeth slowly release it.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “You are strong. I don’t know very much about the situation, but I know you’ve survived years of your dad mistreating you – maybe even your whole life.”

Nick gives his jaw a little squeeze, pressing a kiss on his nose. “Yet here you are, right? In my arms. You survived it, and you’re still surviving it. That takes a lot of strength.”

Charlie bites his lip on instinct, and blushes profusely when Nick pulls it free again, running his thumb over the teeth marks gently. He stares at the pretty freckles on Nick’s nose and cheeks, unable to look him in the eyes when he admits in a whisper, “It doesn’t feel like strength. He makes me feel so weak because he has so much control over me, or at least it feels like he does.”

Charlie takes a shaky breath, and briefly explains what his father said over the phone: the angry emails from his teachers, the condescending tone in general, the veiled threat about the next year of his life. Nick listens to him patiently, making faces and rolling his eyes at all the right moments. His jaw is clenched when Charlie finishes and Charlie breathes a breath heavier than his body,  exhausted all over again.  

“God. I’m sorry you had to deal with this today, especially after the week you’ve had, baby,” Nick breathes, frowning. “He sounds like such a prick.” Charlie can’t help but hum quietly, agreeing with him.

“I just wish he’d leave me alone,” Charlie says quietly. “He’s already left me here for years, I wish he’d pull the trigger and cut me off for good.” He takes a hold of Nick’s hand, squeezing his fingers gently so he doesn’t chew on his bottom lip the way he’s craving.  “What if he makes me leave? Just when everything is starting to fall into place for me?” He squeezes his eyes shut just at the thought;  it’s unfathomable.

Nick makes a soft sound, running his thumb over Charlie’s knuckles. “Oh, sweetheart…”

“What if he doesn’t let me go?” His voice is shaking now, his words tripping over each other. “And I’m just… under his thumb forever?” His mind screams with questions: Would you still want me? Would you still be with me? Even if it’s hard? Even if it has to be a secret forever?

Nick cups Charlie’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks gently. He murmurs, “Baby, you can’t think like this. It’s only creating fear and doubt in you. We don’t know what he’s going to do, yeah? Did you mention the college you applied to? And your film?”

Charlie shakes his head, face heating up at the thought. “No, I just. Kind of panicked thinking that he’d already made up his mind.”

Nick nods. “That's okay. So he doesn’t have all of the information about the hard work you’ve been doing, right? What if that changes everything?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Charlie rebuts. “What if that just makes him angrier? What if he refuses and takes me away and –” And I never see you or Elle again, and I’m forced to be his puppet for the rest of my life, his straight saint boy? What if that’s all there is to my life, disappointment and clipped wings?

“My love, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Nick says softly, his voice so warm and soothing. Charlie can feel his heart skip a beat, butterflies fluttering in his tummy. 

My love. His heart soars.

Nick gently continues, “I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t let him get to you like this, sweetheart. He’s being cruel by putting these ideas in your mind, but you don’t know for sure and I think that’s what he wants. To make you doubt yourself. Has he scared you like this before?”

Charlie thinks back on his childhood, of all the times that he was fooled by his father. The false sense of security, having to walk on eggshells, always feeling like the earth was about to give way under his feet.

“He’s scared me like this my entire life,” Charlie admits, his throat aching from the sudden need to cry again.

Nick presses a soft kiss on Charlie’s lips like he can’t help himself, caressing his cheeks. “You deserve better than that, baby boy. But this also means we can take what he says with a grain of salt, yeah?”

Charlie leans in for another kiss, needy for the affection. “I don’t know if I can,” he says quietly, his cheeks going pink. “But I want to try. I don’t want to be anxious for the rest of the semester just wondering what he’s going to do.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into Nick’s touch on his face, allowing himself to be soothed. “I’ve lived so much of my life just trying to spite him, because I felt like I had more control over myself that way.” His brow furrows, feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “But I’m so tired of it. I just want to be accepted and live my life.”

Charlie can feel Nick brushing kisses over his closed eyelids, down his nose, over his lips. Charlie sighs, shaky and soft, melting into the tenderness of the moment. 

Nick murmurs, “The people who truly care about you accept you exactly the way you are, sweetheart. Everything about you is just right.” He brushes their lips together again. “Perfect boy.”

“Nick,” Charlie whines, his sudden blush so severe that his cheeks start to burn. He wants to hide his face but Nick doesn’t let him, smiling against his mouth until Charlie can’t help but smile back.

“You are, it’s just true,” Nick says softly. “And whatever happens, we will cross that bridge together. I promise.”

Charlie nods, feeling like he wants to cry again. But he just leans forward for more kisses to distract himself, wanting nothing more than to disappear into Nick’s embrace and this feeling of wanting and being wanted back. It feels like freedom – like flying.

“Will you still rough me up this weekend?” Charlie can’t help but ask, curling his fingers into Nick’s loose t-shirt. He looks up at Nick through his lashes. “Even though I just cried all over you?” 

Nick laughs against his mouth, surprised and warm. “Sure baby, yes. Now that I know what’s going on, yes.” Their noses brush together as Nick hums and murmurs, “We’ll talk about it beforehand, and I'll give you exactly what you need, baby boy. I’ll take such good care of you.”

Charlie can feel his insides go hot, melty and dripping like lava. He nods his head and kisses Nick again, sighing, “I know. You always do.”

Chapter Text

Charlie feels like a fresh bruise all of Saturday, like his chest has been split open and all his nerve endings are splayed out for everyone to see. It’s a vulnerable, aching feeling. 

Charlie spends the day in bed. It feels like he traveled back in time to when he was in middle school, years before he got sent here. He’d spend any free time away from his father and family in his room, curled up in bed just like this: the curtains drawn, eyes looking unseeingly into the blue-dark, cups accumulating on the bed side table as life continued for everyone else. Back then, just like now, Charlie wishes the time would simply pass him by or completely swallow him whole. 

He would spend an alarming amount of time wishing he didn’t exist at that age. He would open his eyes in the morning and watch life pass him by, wait until the day ends, just to close them, hoping his dreams would be a reprieve before his eyes have to open once again. Rinse and repeat.

Charlie feels similar now, though it’s not as severe. There is at least some part of him, albeit small and slightly desperate, that knows he’s not alone this time. He doesn’t have the energy to reach out to Elle, or even Nick, despite missing them both. But he knows they’re there. The buzzing of his phone tells him so. 

-

Charlie has always dreaded Sunday mornings. No matter what occurred in his house over the week; the fights, the screaming and crying, the abuse and bruises, he always had to be presentable at church; always had to put on a show for random people he didn’t care about, so his family looked normal. As if they weren’t miserable every day.

Even now, he dreads Sundays. The thought of being perceived by the entire campus makes him want to hide in bed for even longer. But he doesn’t have a choice. Missing Mass could lead to another email, and Charlie would rather die than have to speak to his father again any time soon. 

Charlie gets dressed slowly, his eyes burning from lack of good sleep. He hasn’t checked his phone since Saturday morning and knows there are messages to be read, but he doesn’t have the energy to think about them, much less read and process them. Deep down he knows he must be worrying Nick and Elle to death, but it’s either he ignores his phone or attends Mass. He cannot handle both.

Before Charlie leaves his dorm, he looks at the cross above his bed like he’s done so nearly every day since being left here. He stares at it, its chipped pieces of wood, the way Jesus looks to be asleep when he’s supposed to be keeping a watchful eye. The image has brought him varying feelings throughout his life, but currently it fills him with rage and contempt. 

Charlie feels lost in a way he’s not sure how to describe; one on hand, it feels as though he’s been abandoned all over again by this God, this entity he’s supposed to trust and adore with his entire life. On the other hand, he feels embarrassed and partially ashamed; he does still have faith. This child-like craving inside of him to believe in something, to have something to fall back on, is more than exhausting. He wants to be set free. Cut the wings off of himself for good, if that’s what it takes.

Charlie stares at the image some more, clenching his jaw at the sudden urge to pray. Who does he pray to when he doesn’t feel like he’s being protected? 

You’re still here. You’re still here, aren’t you? is the thought that comes to Charlie. It makes him roll his eyes. 

I’m still here, where? On this campus? In this life? I shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

Mass feels different this time. There’s an energy thrumming through the pews; Charlie assumes it’s the excitement of exams being completed, but it feels new. The altar has more guests and the pews are fuller than usual, which usually means something is being changed or observed.

Charlie doesn’t care to find out what the change is until he sees Nick at the altar. His breath catches.

Nick is wearing a vestment today. It’s simple and white, clearly worn over his usual mentor uniform. There’s a green stole draped over his shoulders. The stole has intricate designs of the Eucharist on them, the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.

Charlie looks at the other mentors and realizes they are also dressed up in vestments, though none of them look nearly as handsome as Nick. It clicks in Charlie’s mind that this is essentially a soft launch for the mentors to have more responsibilities during Mass. 

Nick looks right at him from the altar. Charlie can see the way Nick’s shoulders deflate with a released sigh, his eyes softening with relief. Nick has been worried about him, and Charlie left him hanging. After promising not to do that ever again.

Shame curls inside of Charlie’s stomach. His face goes hot and he’s stunned by the fact that he nearly starts to cry in public. He hopes the look he gives Nick works as some semblance of an apology before they can speak again. Nick smiles at him as subtly as he can and gently pats the middle of his chest with his fingers where Charlie is sure the cross of the rosary rests under his vestment.

Charlie is relieved to the point of feeling lightheaded. Mass begins and they have to stop staring at each other; it’s nearly torture, how badly Charlie craves Nick’s glance, his attention as if he couldn’t have had it all day yesterday and this morning. It’s so similar to the feelings Charlie had when they first started talking, before Nick told him how he really felt. 

Time drags. Charlie mumbles the things he has to say, the praises and Amen’s, enjoys the hymns because the chorus arrangements are beautiful and that’s the only thing he enjoys about Mass. The priest blesses the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ and hands Nick the Communion cup.

Charlie sits up straight for the first time all day. He watches as Nick heads down to the bottom of the altar while students and staff start lining up to receive Communion from him. Nick looks stern, but his kind eyes soften the expression. Charlie can tell Nick is saying, “The Body of Christ,” with each piece of altar bread he offers to the students. 

Charlie is temporarily stunned. He never thought he’d see Nick doing priestly duties of this kind, at least not in public. He has daydreamed of filthy scenarios, of course, but this is completely different. There is a severity to this situation that makes heat curl up in his stomach and takes his breath away.

Nobody in this church knows what he and Nick do behind closed doors. Watching this man he begged to God for give sacraments to students during Mass makes Charlie feel like his insides are being lit up by hellfire. Nick looks so innocent and pure, the embodiment of Holy and the picture of piety when he’s anything but.

Once Charlie is done being glued to his seat from the sheer shock of the situation, he doesn’t waste a moment. He stands and joins the students lining up between the pews to receive the Holy sacrament.

Charlie hasn’t received Communion in years. He had sacrificed endless Saturdays of his childhood for Catechism, which is essentially glorified Bible study, in order to have the privilege of confessing his childhood sins to a priest. After confession, his soul was proper and pure enough to receive his First Communion, the Blood and Body of Christ in the form of a dry wafer and sip of bad table wine.  A-fucking-men.

The memory still fills Charlie with rage. He hadn’t wanted to do any of it. He was raised to believe this was the right way to live; that being pure had everything to do with receiving God’s love and acceptance. If Charlie was pure, and clean, and free of all his sins, God would protect him and love him for eternity.

And then Charlie understood that the thoughts he was having were inherently impure. The way he felt about the boys in his school, the way he’d stare at the older boys in the church choir, the innocent crushes he’d have on the male teachers during Catechism, was sinful. Despite his child-like innocence, he was burdened with sin by simply existing. 

Charlie was forced to sit in a confessional booth at twelve years old and confess his sin of having impure thoughts. The indecent thoughts of wanting to hold a boy’s hand instead of a girl’s. 

The shame Charlie felt for simply admitting how he felt, to a priest whose sole purpose was to communicate Charlie’s words to God Himself, was only exacerbated when the priest spoke to his father later that evening. Charlie’s life has been a whirlwind ever since. It was already miserable, but the shame he felt was palpable now that his entire family knew the truth of his mind against his will.

The hours he spent on his knees sobbing, begging his father for forgiveness, to not be sent away to a conversion camp are burned into his mind – permanent and inescapable. He pleaded with his father that the thoughts would be cured, that his First Communion that weekend would somehow fix everything. That he’s clean enough to receive God’s adoration now, and he will be cured from this. Amen.

I’ll never think about boys again. I won’t bring shame to the family. I won’t be a sinner. I promise you, dad.

It didn’t work. It couldn’t work. Charlie received the Communion in front of his family and the clergy and God Himself, his eyes swollen from crying the entire night before, the wafer sticking to his tongue with shame, the wine souring all of his senses. Charlie sat back down on the pew and felt unchanged. He felt betrayed by this church, this organization, this family – this God. How could God do this to him? If Charlie was truly built on His image, why would he be born so inherently flawed? 

Charlie knows deep down that his first confession and First Communion were the reasons why he was sent to this school. It’s not a conversion camp, but it’s the perfect way to keep him just far away enough to not embarrass the family while keeping up appearances of receiving a good education. He isn’t allowed to receive Communion at the church back home anymore, because he hasn’t confessed to the priest since that day; according to the church, one must be cleansed of all sin before receiving the Eucharist. And Heaven knows that Charlie has only continued to sin by simply existing since then, and he won’t be caught dead confessing to that priest ever again.

That means Charlie isn’t allowed to receive Communion here, either. Especially here, with all the sins he has been committing recently. He could not give less of a shit. 

There is not a chance in Hell that he’s missing this opportunity.

Charlie is sure he’s being stared at by the clergy, but he keeps his eyes trained on the student in front of him in line until he can look right at his mentor. 

Nick stares at him, long and hard and still. He looks like a caricature of something flawless and Holy wearing these vestments, holding a Communion cup in his hand. Charlie would pray to His image every single night if this is the view he had, and he intends to. 

Charlie can’t decipher what Nick’s look is trying to tell him, but he’s sure that Nick is fully aware he’s not allowed to take Communion. He hasn’t taken it once since Nick has arrived at this school. 

Charlie looks right at Nick as he walks up to him, as serious as a heart attack. The room seems to go silent, though Charlie knows that’s not true; the hymns are still being sung, prayers still being answered. He watches as Nick reaches into the cup and pulls out a piece of the altar bread.

“The Body of Christ,” Nick says under his breath, quiet and warm. He reaches out to place the wafer in Charlie’s hand, but Charlie’s hands stay firmly clasped behind his back.

Instead, he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, just a little.

This is allowed. It’s a perfectly good choice, for the wafer to be placed on one’s tongue instead of one’s palm. Why on Earth would Charlie choose to receive it in his hand when this is an option?

Nick’s reaction is immediate. He takes in a sharp breath, his eyes going hard and dark. His jaw visibly clenches. 

Charlie blinks at him slowly. Once, then twice, his tongue still stuck out. Waiting. He wants this. He wants to disobey, wants to sin on purpose. He wants to be punished for it.

It feels like entire minutes pass, though it has only been a few seconds. Charlie doesn’t change his mind and Nick doesn’t have a choice. He reaches out and gently places the wafer on Charlie’s tongue; he presses down on it slightly with his thumb, looking deep into Charlie’s eyes.

The moment is simple, but electric. Charlie feels like his body has come back to life from the surge of energy that hits him, his nerves vibrating, his mind opening up like a chakra has been activated. Like God Himself has reached down and touched him.

Charlie takes the risk and curls his tongue up just a bit as he takes the wafer into his mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing over the edges of Nick’s thumb. Nick’s breath catches. Charlie imagines how obscene it would be if Nick did what he really wanted to do right now; if he pressed his thumb down hard against Charlie’s tongue and told him to loosen his jaw, to tilt his head back and open up for him like a good boy. 

Charlie can barely hold back a whimper at the thought. He’d do anything to drop to his knees for Nick right here and now, in front of the entire campus, in front of God’s watchful eye. Nick’s eyes are so dark that they take Charlie’s breath away. 

“Thank you, Father,” Charlie murmurs, bowing his head slightly to show respect. The appropriate reply would be a simple Amen but this feels right. He leaves Nick, with his rosy cheeks and clenched jaw, at the bottom of the altar, going towards another mentor for the Blood of Christ. He doesn’t particularly want to partake, nor does he care to, but he doesn’t want to risk any questions if he doesn’t receive both halves of the Communion.

Charlie takes his sip of bad table wine, barely holding back a grimace and murmuring Amen before returning to his seat. He still feels like electricity is coursing through his veins; he wonders how Nick feels, or what’s going through his mind. If Nick understands why Charlie did what he did.

By the look Nick gives him once he’s back on his own seat at the altar, grave and intense, Charlie is pretty sure that Nick understands what he wants. He’s not sure if he will receive it.

-

After Mass, Charlie braves it and unlocks his phone screen. There are various messages from Nick and Elle, spanning from Friday and today. He feels guilty, but he doesn’t open Elle’s messages. He promises her in his mind that he will check them as soon as he’s capable.

He opens Nick’s message thread with bated breath. 

There are various texts from the day before. They range from sweet and caring, to anxious and worried. He reads messages that say, Just please let me know you’re okay and I hope you’re in Mass tomorrow and I don’t want to have to do a wellness check but I will.

They all make Charlie feel sick in different ways. But there is a message that he received moments ago that succeeds in taking away that awful feeling, replacing it with butterflies.

Come confess your sins after dark. I’ll be waiting for you.

-

Charlie makes his way over to Nick’s room as soon as the sun is down, wearing his uniform and backpack. The night is cold and the campus feels lonely, no one around except the stone saint statues, whose eyes seem to follow his every step. 

Charlie lightly knocks on Nick’s door and is swiftly pulled inside. He can barely take a breath before his back is pushed against the door, a firm hand holding his head against it by the jaw.

His eyes widen, dropping his bag with a surprised gasp. He tries to say something witty, or anything, but his jaw drops before he can get it out. 

Nick has Charlie pinned against the door, staring down at him with the same dark, alluring eyes as during Mass. But this time, instead of the white vestment he had on, he’s wearing a black clerical shirt with a tab collar. 

Charlie’s breath catches at the image of him. He’s been daydreaming about Nick wearing this exact outfit since they first met. There is something so erotic about this type of vestment; it’s dark, classic and brings up memories of all the filthy things Charlie has pictured throughout the years; mainly, all the blasphemy he wanted to commit inside confessionals. 

Looking at Nick now, Charlie knows that his imagination simply couldn’t have conjured up this kind of perfection. Nick is so handsome it makes Charlie feel like he’s losing his actual mind. Nick’s auburn hair is the perfect shade to bring out the color of his eyes, and Charlie realizes the room is lit up by candlelight because the flames flicker and waver in Nick’s eyes, over his freckle-dusted cheeks. 

Charlie starts to say something simple like, You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen or, I can’t believe you chose me or, Holy shit please fucking kiss me, but Nick doesn’t give him the chance. His hand shifts down to Charlie’s neck and presses him into the door.

Nick studies him for a long time. He runs his thumb up and down Charlie’s throat, resting it over his pulse point, feeling it start to beat faster and faster as the moments pass. Charlie takes in shaky, short breaths, swallowing hard against Nick’s grip. He wants to apologize for worrying Nick but something in his intense gaze makes Charlie keep his mouth shut. 

Nick leans in a bit closer, their noses nearly brushing together. He murmurs, “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to be honest and succinct with your replies. Nod if you understand.”

Charlie nods as best as he can, feeling the heat already start to crawl down his chest and settle low and heady in his stomach. 

“Good. So you can hear when I tell you things. Is that true?”

Charlie nearly tries to stay silent, but the look in Nick’s eyes gets a reply out of him. “Yes, that’s true.”

“And do you understand what a promise is?” 

Charlie fights back the urge to pout. He nods and says, “I do. But I – I didn’t –”

Nick brings the pointer finger of his other hand and presses it gently against Charlie’s lips, shushing him. He tightens his grip on Charlie’s throat just a bit. “Don’t speak unless I say so. I can give you permission if you need to explain yourself. Do you need that?”

Charlie whimpers, soft and, embarrassingly, incredibly turned on. “Yes, I do,” he mumbles against Nick’s finger.

Nick removes his finger, but steadies his hand on Charlie’s throat. “Go ahead.”

Charlie tries to rationalize his thoughts, not wanting to start rambling. He wants to be concise and make perfect sense in one go, it’s what Nick is expecting of him, and he wants to be good –

“Hey.” Nick interrupts Charlie’s thoughts, his voice warm like the candlelight that makes the room glow. “You can take your time, sweetheart. I want to hear what you have to say. There’s no punishment for needing time to think.”

Charlie feels himself blush and takes his time collecting his thoughts. He chews on his lip for a bit, then breathes, “I didn’t – I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I didn’t do that to make you mad, or for punishment.” His face feels hot and he pushes through, still looking into Nick’s eyes through the embarrassment. “It was a hard day mentally and I couldn’t talk. I didn’t have the energy to.” 

Charlie is surprised that he wants to cry, like he did back during Mass. Guilt seems to have a direct tie to his tear ducts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Nick hums, soft and considering. He runs his thumb gently over Charlie’s bottom lip with his free hand, like he’s grazing it over the words that just spilled from his mouth. “I can understand that, sweet boy,” Nick says quietly. “You had a hard day on Friday, didn’t you?”

Charlie nods, feeling completely naked under Nick’s gaze, though he’s still fully dressed. 

Nick nods, because he knows. “I forgive you. I was worried, but I understand.”

Charlie takes a breath to say he’s sorry again and Nick interrupts with, “Don’t apologize again. You’ll be doing that a lot tonight, but not because of this.”

Charlie feels like his blush travels down to his thighs, the heat is so severe and fast. 

“Oh,” he whispers and tries very hard not to lick over Nick’s thumb, which is still brushing over his lips like he wants to remember their exact shape by memory. 

Nick pulls down Charlie’s lower lip gently, running the pad of his thumb over the inside, wet and soft. Charlie allows his mouth to fall open but doesn’t stick his tongue out. He behaves.

Nick smiles. “You’re learning so fast. See? You can be good.”

Charlie lets out a soft sound, eyes staring into Nick’s. He’s completely entranced. “Yes, daddy.”

Nick hums, then tightens his hand around Charlie’s throat, the pressure slowly and steadily building. “What a good boy.”

Charlie barely chokes back his whine, his brow already furrowing from how much he wants. Nick’s thumb runs over the tops of his bottom teeth, slowly.

“You didn’t ignore me for punishment,” Nick reiterates, his voice smooth like silk. “But you took Communion for punishment. Is that true?”

Charlie can feel his cheeks growing warm. “Yes,” he admits, his teeth gently biting down on Nick’s thumb as he speaks. 

Nick gives him a warm, knowing look. The heat continues to build inside of Charlie like a fire, the flames licking at his nerves and lighting him up inside. Nick runs his thumb over Charlie’s tongue, pressing down and applying slow pressure on it until Charlie moans, tilting his head back for more.

“You’re gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart? The way you need it?” Nick murmurs. “I’m not going easy on you, like last time. Do you remember your safe words?”

Charlie nods as best as he can, whimpering around Nick’s thumb. It did not feel like Nick went easy on him last time. The idea of Nick being rougher makes him start to salivate around the finger in his mouth.

Nick smiles, then it drops just as fast as it arrived. He lets go of Charlie’s throat and mouth, taking a few steps back. Charlie wants to follow him, nearly falls over in his haste to keep Nick’s hands on his body, but he stays still against the wall.

Nick looks like he wants to devour him. It’s not the first time that Nick has reminded Charlie of a starved wolf, teeth practically bared for a taste of blood. But this time, the look paired with the vestment makes Charlie’s knees nearly buckle.

“Then take off your clothes, and confess.”

Chapter Text

Charlie only hesitates for a few moments before reaching for the buttons of his uniform with shaky fingers. He starts to undo them, going against his instinct to hurry up and get undressed as fast as possible. He moves slowly instead, loosening a button with each deep breath he takes as he looks right into Nick’s eyes. He wants to look away; his face burns from the vulnerability of the moment, feeling so raw as he’s being watched.

Charlie licks his lips as he reaches the last few buttons of the shirt, noticing the way Nick’s eyes are trailing down his exposed chest and back up. Nick looks so calm and contained like this, practically leaned back against his dresser in his clerical outfit, quieter than a church mouse. Charlie pictures Nick pulling out a cigarette to take a few puffs as he watches, and the thought alone makes goosebumps rise up Charlie’s arms.

Then, just as Charlie can tell that Nick is about to say something, to remind him to speak and follow his order of, Take off your clothes and confess, Charlie starts to speak.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he says very softly. “It’s been a few years now since my last confession.”

Charlie tries to remember all the nuances of confessing, but he’s not sure what he’ll be able to recall from all those years ago. A glance tells him that Nick’s eyes have gone impossibly darker already. The proper way to begin a confession is typically, Bless me, Father; as God is the one who has to forgive your pardons, not the priest. But Charlie is not confessing to God; he is confessing his sins to Nick, his man of the cloth, his personal God, the one for whom he truly sins. The one for whom he wants to sin.

Charlie bites his lip as he reaches the last button. He runs his fingers up the middle of his chest and under the shirt, so it starts to slide off one of his shoulders. He leans his head back against the wall, trailing his fingers up his neck and back down as he murmurs, “I’ve been so bad.”

Charlie thinks he can hear Nick take in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop to make sure. He slips the other side of the shirt off his shoulder and says, “I’ve been getting involved with an older man.”

Charlie knows he’s exaggerating – their age gap isn’t even two years; it adds to the thrill. “But he’s so kind, and so fucking hot, Father. I can’t help myself.” He blinks at Nick slowly, running his fingers down the middle of his chest. “I just wanted a little taste,” he adds in a whisper, his voice becoming softer with each passing word as he gets more turned on.

“Did you get to have a taste?” Nick asks, voice low and the barest bit demanding. 

Charlie’s breath catches at the sound of it, fingers playing with the button of his pants. He nods, feeling his face grow hotter. 

“Mhm,” he breathes, “and he tastes so good, Father. I want more right now even though I know it’s a sin.”

“You want more of what?” 

Charlie swallows, undoing his pants a bit faster than his shirt. His hands are starting to shake. 

“I want…” he whispers, trying to fight through the sudden shyness that attempts to overwhelm him. “I want more of his cock in my mouth,” Charlie nearly whimpers, running his fingers over his briefs that are now peeking out. “He’s big, and he tastes good and he stretches my mouth out so much.”

Charlie licks his lips at the thought, tugging his pants down a bit. “I think about him all the time, Father.”

Nick watches him like he has all the time in the world. The look in his eyes is bordering on deadly, it’s so intense. It’s so piercing – his close attention feels like it rips through Charlie like a bullet. He shrugs off his shirt before continuing to speak, fingers trailing down his bare chest.

“He’s so rough with me and his hands are big and when he gets his mouth on me…” Charlie allows his eyes to roll back at the thought, putting on a show as he palms himself over his briefs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor. “Fuck, it’s so good. He’s so good to me.”

Charlie nips the corner of his lip with a canine, pushing his bottom lip out in supplication, in an exaggerated pout, playing with the hem of his briefs. “How could something that feels so good be so bad, Father?”

Nick clenches his jaw so tight that it’s visible. Charlie whimpers at the sight, slowly tugging down his briefs until they’re on the floor, too. He’s hard just from his own words, completely naked in front of a fully dressed Nick. The vestment Nick is wearing makes this feel so much more intense, like being this naked is the most sinful thing he could be doing. Charlie loves it.

Low in his throat, Nick commands, “Come closer, and get on your knees.”

Charlie obeys immediately. He drops to his knees in front of Nick, blinking up at him slowly, breathless. He wants to touch so badly but he doesn’t; he holds his hands behind his back, and swallows hard at the view of Nick staring down at him. Nick watches him for seconds that stretch to aeons, like he’s contemplating what he wants to do first. He runs his fingers gently through Charlie’s hair, making a shiver run through his body at the touch.

“You’ve been so bad, huh, baby?” Nick murmurs, his voice so quiet that Charlie has so strain to hear. Charlie licks his lips and nods, feeling Nick’s fingers trail down the side of his face. Nick tilts Charlie’s head back with a finger under his chin.

“Say it.”

Charlie swallows hard and whispers, “I’ve been – I’ve been so bad, sir.”

Nick hums. “Do you know what happens to bad boys?”

Charlie feels the curling heat of desire rise up from his lower stomach, the flames licking up his skin. He knows the answer but he plays dumb, shaking his head and allowing his mouth to open just a little when Nick’s thumb brushes over his bottom lip.

Nick’s eyes seem to twinkle. “They get punished. Open up that pretty mouth for me, let me see it.”

Charlie’s jaw goes slack as he opens up his mouth, sticking his tongue out.

Nick runs the flat of his thumb down Charlie’s tongue, pressing down to make him open up wider. Charlie whimpers and wants to curl up his tongue to suck on his thumb so badly, but he doesn’t. He tries to be good.

Nick takes his hand back and slowly starts to undo his pants, bringing down his zipper. Charlie tries to hold back from panting but his tongue is still out and he can’t help it, knowing how desperate he must look. But he is desperate. He starts to drip onto the floor from the anticipation alone.

Nick sighs once he tugs down his briefs just enough to free his cock, giving himself a few strokes. Charlie shifts on the floor, making a soft sound at the sight of Nick in his clerical outfit and doing something so unholy. It’s fucking delicious and he wants to taste.

Nick smiles at him before he allows it to drop away, becoming serious again. He murmurs, “Get your palm wet and touch yourself. Show me.”

Charlie shivers at the sound of his voice and obeys, keeping his eyes trained on Nick’s as he licks his up his palm and fingers. He takes his cock into his spit covered hand, moaning at the friction, his hips pumping towards the touch right away. He licks his lips and opens his mouth to speak, then allows it to fall closed.

“What were you going to say?” Nick asks, matching the pace of Charlie’s hand on his own cock. “Speak up.”

Charlie swallows hard. In a shuddering exhale, he breathes, “I’m – It feels good, daddy.”

Nick hums. “That’s all, baby?”

Charlie whimpers, blushing profusely. He admits, “I really wanna come.”

Nick laughs. He gets his free hand in Charlie’s curls and pulls, so gently for how harsh his laugh sounds. Charlie whines anyway, tilting his head back to stare at his mentor.

“Oh, baby,” Nick says, still laughing softly. “You’re not going to come for a long, long time.”

Charlie frowns, feeling another whine build up in the back of his throat. He stops moving his hand. “But –” 

Nick tugs on his hair, hard. Charlie gasps, his back arching.

“Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?” 

Charlie whimpers, the pain making the head of his cock drip. He takes a shaky breath, fingers hovering over his cock, overwhelmed.

Nick tugs at his hair again. “Charlie. Fucking answer me. Did I tell you to stop?”

Charlie’s next breath is thick, sounding choked like a sob. “N-No sir, you didn’t.”

“So keep going, ” Nick  compels, his voice low. Charlie doesn’t have a choice but to touch himself again, sighing with relief as Nick loosens the grip in his hair, frowning from how close he already is as he slowly fucks his fist. 

“Good,” Nick says, watching him. “I’m going to fuck your pretty throat, and you’re going touch yourself the entire time, just like this. You’re only gonna stop once I pull out, and you’re only coming when I say. Do you understand?”

Charlie starts to whine just at the thought, beginning to tremble. “Oh, but…” His voice cracks slightly, breaking off into a whimper. “What if I’m so close?”

Nick hums quietly, running his fingers through Charlie’s curls, gentle and sweet. “Tap my thigh if you need to stop, or if you need me to stop for any reason. Okay?”

Charlie moans softly, nodding his head. He will say yes to anything Nick wants; he will beg for a chance to be used, to be punished by this man. A shiver runs through his body at the thought.

Nick cups Charlie’s jaw in his hand, running his thumb over Charlie’s pouty lips. “What’s your color, baby boy?”

Charlie is already in a daze but his lips curl up in a smile, blinking up at his mentor. “It’s green, daddy,” he breathes. “Please fill me up, I want it.”

Nick swears under his breath and eases Charlie’s mouth open with a thumb against his jaw. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “Let me see you.”

Charlie opens up his mouth so it’s slack, moaning softly in anticipation. Nick taps the head of his cock, heavy and sticky, on Charlie’s waiting tongue for so long; until Charlie’s moans start to break, drool dripping off the tip of his tongue and onto the floor. Nick hums quietly and holds onto Charlie’s jaw as he finally presses his cock inside his mouth.

Charlie can feel more than he can hear, the familiar sound of hymns, of familiar energies lifting up from the ground and coming down from the skies and taking him over. His skin thrums with it, with the feeling of being used and owned the way he wants. He hums around Nick’s cock filling up his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he strokes his own, feeling his mind dip into that safe zone where nothing else matters except for this .

Nick takes his time, at first. He groans quietly and murmurs, “Yeah, take me. Just like this.” He holds onto Charlie’s jaw as it slackens in his hand, pressing his hips forward until he can’t anymore, until his cock is settled inside of Charlie’s mouth, the head pressed down the back of his throat, slowly choking him.

Charlie wants to hum, wants to moan, but he can’t make a sound. He gags, tongue shifting under the weight of Nick’s cock, drool already sliding down his chin. He shivers hard and squeezes the base of his own cock, holding himself back from coming right away; the feeling of his mouth being completely full makes him feel so good, makes his lower stomach ache from the heat curling inside of it.

Nick pulls out a second later, free hand curling into Charlie’s hair so he can tug his head back. Charlie gasps as his throat is freed, panting for air and unable to stop himself from trying to lean forward and reach for more. His whine is high pitched in the back of his throat when Nick stops him with a firm grip in his curls. He lets go of his own cock, shivering with relief and also loss.

“Please,” Charlie whispers, eyes at half mast as he blinks up at Nick, swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Don’t stop, daddy. Gimme it.”

Nick watches him for a few seconds, then murmurs, “I’ll give you what I want to give you. Match your hand’s pace with mine.”

It’s the only instruction Nick gives before he starts to fuck Charlie’s mouth again. His thrusts are deep and messy and continuous, and Charlie is in Heaven at the same time that he’s being tortured. He rushes to obey Nick’s command, matching the brutal pace of his throat being used, but his cock starts to ache seconds later as his hips buck into his hand. He’s dripping down his fingers, throbbing from his own touch and he moans as much as he can, brow furrowing from the feeling. 

It feels so good to be used up like this. His throat feels stretched out and trained, his lips and tongue swollen from the friction, drool sliding down his chin as he chokes over and over, a fucking dream come true. It turns him on so much, being used up by Nick. But it feels awful knowing he can’t come, knowing he’s so close it nearly hurts, knowing that Nick isn’t going to let him come any time soon.

Charlie can feel himself start to tear up, his hips pumping forward into his hand, gagging so sweetly every time Nick presses in just that bit deeper. Looking up to see Nick staring down at him makes it so much worse.

“Yeah,” Nick murmurs, breathless and shaky but so warm. “Just needed me to fill you right up, hm? Got you behaving just right for me.” Nick gives Charlie a hint of a breathless smile before dropping it, jaw going a bit slack. “Mm, show daddy how good you can take it.”

He presses inside of Charlie’s mouth, deep and slow, and holds himself there. Charlie pauses his hand, making a soft sound before he has to stop himself, no room in his throat to continue. He swallows, blinking up at Nick with teary eyes, trying to control his gag reflex and open up as best as he can. He wants to be perfect.

Nick watches Charlie for a few seconds, then leans his head back with a deep groan, cock seeming to throb inside of Charlie’s throat, against his tongue. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re made for this, huh, baby? Just to take my cock, just like this.”

Charlie starts to tremble, his own cock leaking like a faucet all over the floor as he holds himself still, and he realizes he can’t hold it back. The feeling of his orgasm approaching is sudden and so intense; he taps on Nick’s thigh without a second thought, free hand hovering over his own cock.

Nick pulls out immediately, a question on his lips, but then Charlie is gasping, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come. Daddy, I’m –” He whimpers, thighs shivering as he spreads his legs, leaning his head back to pant up at Nick. “Please, let me? I wanna come. ”

Nick tugs hard on Charlie’s hair, shushing him with a gentle and firm voice. 

“You are not going to come,” Nick murmurs, deep in his throat. “You’re gonna be good for me. Let that feeling take you over, hm? Look right at me and control yourself.”

Charlie starts panting from the effort of restraining himself; he half sobs, fingers curling into the soft skin of his own thighs, his cock visibly twitching as he locks eyes with Nick. Charlie wants to cry, the relief would be so sweet. 

“But I wanna come,” Charlie breathes, licking his lips. He blinks up at Nick with big, teary eyes. “What if – what if I can’t hold back, daddy?” 

Nick gives Charlie a soft smile, running a thumb gently over his bottom lip. “You can safeword, and you know I’ll take care of you. But I’ll have to punish you if you don’t.”

Charlie swallows hard and asks, “Aren’t you already punishing me?”

Nick lets out another small laugh, tugging on Charlie’s curls again. “Baby, you have no idea what real punishment is.”

Charlie’s face grows hot, his stomach filling up with butterflies and something a bit darker, like anticipation. He licks his lips and whispers, “So show me. Why aren’t you showing me?”

Nick is still for a few seconds, staring at Charlie’s face like he’s trying to decipher his own thoughts. But he quickly tugs Charlie’s head back by the hair, so fast that Charlie gasps.

Nick leans down so their faces are closer, staring into Charlie’s half-opened eyes. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he says softly, like he’s discussing the weather. 

Charlie almost immediately regrets it, because Nick lets go and stands up straight, tugging his briefs back up with barely any reaction. Charlie whimpers at the loss and watches as Nick sits comfortably on the edge of his bed, feet planted on the floor.

Nick taps his thigh and murmurs, “Come here.”

Charlie stands up on shaky legs and assumes he’s going to straddle Nick, but that’s not what happens. Nick takes a hold of his hips and says, “I want you bent over my lap.”

Charlie takes in a sharp breath, but nods his head. Nick raises his eyebrows and Charlie corrects himself, breathing, “Yes, sir. How do I…?”

Nick smiles at Charlie, so sweet and warm, before helping him lay across his lap at an angle, his cock resting in between Nick’s spread legs, head and hands resting on the bed. The position leaves Charlie feeling so vulnerable, shivering against the beautiful fabric of Nick’s pants. His skin is warm and sensitive, a blush rushing down from his face to the top of his shoulders. He has an idea of what is going to happen, but he still startles when he feels Nick’s hands on his hips from the opposite direction, thumbs firmly pressing down against his lower back.

Charlie shivers and Nick hums, watching the goosebumps rise on the boy’s skin at the touch. Nick’s fingers trail over his ass and Charlie squirms as best as he can, using his thighs against Nick’s for leverage. 

Barely a second passes before Nick lands a sharp smack on Charlie’s ass, fingers spread. Charlie gasps, jumping from the sudden pain and Nick lands another one, quickly and in the same spot. Charlie hisses, mouth falling open against the sheets as he tries to catch his breath.

“Count,” is all Nick says, voice reserved, before he smacks Charlie’s ass again. 

Charlie’s next breath comes out sounding like a sob. He squirms again, trying to get away but also pushes back against the feeling, his ass feeling hot and stinging. He tries to gather his thoughts, licking his lips as he whispers, “O-One.”

Nick pulls on Charlie’s hair, making his back arch so sweetly off the bed. Charlie gasps, jaw dropped, then again when Nick gives him another smack. 

“Are you paying attention, Charlie?” Nick murmurs, his voice cold. Charlie shudders at the sound of it and tries to nod, but he can’t move his head. 

“Y-Yes, daddy, I –”

Nick grabs Charlie’s ass where he just smacked, making him squeal from the sensitivity. Nick’s voice goes impossibly hard, concise and to the point.

“How many times have I spanked you?”

Charlie realizes his mistake, taking a shaky breath as he tries to remember. “Oh – you, it’s been – this was the fourth, daddy, I’m sorry.” His thighs start to shiver, Nick’s fingers still pressing tight against his burning, sensitive skin.

Nick hums, allowing his fingers to dip down and brush over Charlie’s taint briefly. Charlie moans, arching off the bed and Nick’s thigh even more, his fingers curling into the sheets and the fabric of Nick’s pants. 

“So you do know how to count, hm?” Nick murmurs. “Start from the beginning.”

He lands a harsh smack on Charlie’s ass with no time to waste. Charlie chokes out a whimper, trying to stop his eyes from rolling back already. 

“One,” he breathes and jumps when Nick’s next smack is even harder, a cry escaping his lips. 

“Louder,” Nick practically growls, it’s so low in his throat. He just barely releases the pressure on Charlie’s hair, fingers dipping in between his cheeks again.

“Two,” Charlie whines, trying to rock his hips back for more. “Please, touch me.”

Nick ignores him and delivers another smack instead. Then another, and another, until Charlie’s voice is hoarse from counting. Until his mouth hangs open from the constant gasping, drool running down his chin, thighs trembling from the force of trying to stay still. Until he practically loses count. Charlie’s cock seems to pulse with every breath he takes; he groans every time it manages to brush against Nick’s thigh, swollen and so sensitive and absolutely making a mess against the thick fabric of his mentor’s pants.

Nick runs his fingers over Charlie’s red, burning ass cheek so gently. The soft touch makes shudders wrack through Charlie’s body, whimpering quietly against the bunched up sheets in his hands. 

“See? I knew you could be so good,” Nick practically coos. “Following the rules, being so obedient. Are you being good for daddy, sweetheart?”

Charlie answers without a thought, his eyes half closed as he tries to catch his breath. “Yes, I am.”

“Mmm,” Nick hums. “Say it for me.”

Charlie swallows hard, still somehow feeling embarrassed. “I’m – I’m being good, daddy. I’m a good boy.”

Nick leans down and mouths kisses across Charlie’s shoulders and down his back. Charlie can feel the man’s smile against his skin and it makes him feel like sun rays are bursting out of his stomach and chest. 

“Yeah,” Nick agrees quietly. “My good boy. Does it feel better, sweetheart? Than being bad?”

Charlie’s blush could start a forest fire. Softly, barely there, he answers, “Yes. I wanna be good.”

Nick takes a hold of Charlie’s body, shushing him softly as he shifts their positions on the bed. Charlie’s eyes are bordering glassy as he stares up at Nick who is standing between his spread thighs. Charlie’s feet are resting on the bed.

The position makes Charlie feel so vulnerable, heat rising up his neck as he squirms on the soft sheets, his ass aching from being spanked. His cock rests against his stomach, making a mess on the soft hairs under his belly button, twitching as Nick looms over him on the bed. Nick hums at the sight before him and gently spreads Charlie’s legs further.

Charlie whimpers at being watched, his own fingers running over his chest and stomach. He barely brushes his fingers over his cock, eyes fluttering back at the feeling as he sighs, “Can I come, daddy? Can I please come?”

Nick takes Charlie’s wrists into his hand easily, shushing softly when Charlie whines and arches his back off the bed.

“Please,” Charlie whispers, using his leverage on the mattress to lift his hips off the sheets. “Please, it aches. I wanna come, daddy, I’m close.” It’s like all of Charlie’s nerves come to life, seeing Nick stare at him from this position when he’s so close, so needy, and he starts to babble softly as he stares up at his mentor, not making any sense. “Please, I’ll be so fast, sir, you won’t even need to touch me, I just – ‘m so close and I wanna come, please let me? I wanna come for you, I’ve been –”

Nick rests his right hand on Charlie’s throat, slowly applying pressure as he tilts the boy’s head back against the sheets, shushing him again. Charlie can feel his thoughts start to calm down, his mouth dropping open since he can’t utter another word, his own hands holding onto Nick’s wrist and arm. He blinks up at Nick with big, pleading eyes.

“You’re gonna wait for me a little longer,” Nick murmurs. Charlie frowns, his eyebrows furrowing like he’d be whining if he could make any sound, nails pressing into Nick’s skin.

Nick shushes him one more time, softly, even though Charlie isn’t making any noise. He leans down to get closer, the fabric of his pants brushing over Charlie’s bare thighs, making him shiver.

“What’s your color, sweetheart?” Nick asks quietly. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Charlie swallows hard as Nick removes the pressure from his throat. He thinks for a few seconds, looking into Nick’s brown, safe eyes and licks his lips. He wants this. He can take this. He wants to be perfect.

“Green,” Charlie whispers, allowing his legs to spread even further. “I’ll – I'll try to wait, daddy. I’m all yours.”

Nick pulls Charlie up into a sitting position by the back of his neck and gives him a long, filthy kiss. Bites at Charlie’s lips and sucks on his tongue, fingers pressed against his jawline as Charlie moans for it, whimpers from the sweet attention.

“Perfect,” Nick murmurs against Charlie’s plump lips, running his teeth over them. “Just perfect.”

Nick pulls away and opens the bible that’s been resting on his nightstand for weeks. From inside the soft, thin pages, he pulls out lacy, tiny fabric that looks so familiar it makes Charlie’s breath catch once he realizes what it is.

They’re the panties. His panties, the pair that he pressed right into Nick’s waiting hand after their first intimate moment. 

“Oh,” Charlie whispers, watching Nick’s hands like a hawk. He licks his lips, his face burning hot from how shy he suddenly feels. “You kept them,” he breathes. “In your bible?”

Nick smiles at him as he returns to his previous position, his own cheeks dusted pink this time. “I could never get rid of them,” he says quietly, holding Charlie’s jaw with his fingers. “And where else would I keep something so sacred, hm?”

Charlie’s breath catches again, his lower stomach feeling taut with tension that he desperately wants to release, and now bursting with butterflies. He knows what this feeling must be, what this want for another person must be called, but it must be too early. It’s too early, isn’t it? To be thinking that this must be love? 

Instead of saying anything, Charlie tilts his head back and leans forward, mouth open to catch Nick’s in a kiss. Nick gives him a soft kiss, then another, then slowly presses the panties inside of Charlie’s mouth with his fingers.

Charlie is only surprised for a second. He allows his jaw to drop further, moaning softly as he feels his mouth getting full from the fabric. 

Nick makes a quiet sound, watching Charlie open up for him so easily. He smiles, his eyes so dark that it makes Charlie shiver. “You look so pretty like this,” he whispers. “The prettiest thing.” Nick presses a kiss on Charlie’s panties inside of his mouth. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to get loud, sweetheart,” Nick murmurs. “Try not to get the entire campus rushing into the room, yeah?”

Then, Nick gently pushes Charlie’s chest down against the sheets and drops to his knees, spreading Charlie’s legs and starting to mouth at his inner thighs. Charlie makes a muffled sound that he can’t explain, hips attempting to buck off the bed in surprise and Nick pins him down hard and fast, biting at his sensitive skin and licking over the marks.

Charlie can feel tears threaten to build up as he feels Nick’s thumbs spread him apart, pinning his thighs down tight against the bed. Nick runs the pad of his thumb over Charlie’s taint and then lower, brushing over his rim.

Charlie gasps, trying to buck up his hips and failing. He thinks he knows what’s about to happen but can’t contain the emotions it makes him feel, the want and nerves and need are so intense inside of him. He’s been waiting for this. Charlie grabs at the sheets and whines, tries to beg for it as if Nick isn’t going to, as if he can’t feel Nick’s breath right where he wants it.

Nick makes a soft sound. “Oh, you’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He runs the flat of his tongue from Charlie’s entrance to his taint, again, and again.

Charlie is thankful for the panties because he practically wails. He tries so hard to push forward for more that he ends up pulling the sheets off the bed with desperate hands, unable to move his legs in the least. He arches his back right off the mattress and whines, a choked sob escaping him. 

“Oh my God, oh my fucking God,” Charlie babbles, muffled as his thighs tremble, fingers running through his own curls. 

Nick hums so Charlie can feel the vibrations against his skin, sucking gentle kisses against his rim like he’s testing the waters. Charlie mewls and ceaselessly pleads, “Please, please I want you to taste, daddy, please fuck me, oh my God,” knowing that Nick can barely understand a word. But Nick doesn’t have to understand because he licks into Charlie, holding his hips tight enough to bruise bone. 

Nick takes his time, pressing his tongue inside of Charlie with ease; pulling it out every few seconds to feel Charlie tremble at the loss, making sure his tongue is soaked with spit, loosening Charlie up from the inside out, making his nerves light up with attention. Charlie’s eyes roll back when Nick curls up his tongue with a groan, like this is the best meal he’s ever tasted. 

“Please,” Charlie mumbles, the fabric of the panties getting soaked inside his mouth. He reaches for Nick’s hair with shaky fingers, tugging hard on the soft, auburn strands once Nick presses up into the touch. Charlie tries to pull him in closer, a choked sound leaving his lips. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Charlie whimpers, stifled but still so sweet, his mouth falling open as Nick fucks him with his tongue, messy and wet. Charlie can feel spit drip down his ass, there’s so much of it and he feels filthy, spread open and vulnerable; it makes him start to pant, one of his hands grabbing at Nick’s that is still curled around his hip.

Nick pulls away, ignoring Charlie’s complaints, to blow cool air over his entrance. He coos softly, pressing a biting kiss on Charlie’s inner thigh. 

“Oh, baby. You’re just twitching for me, hm?” Nick teases, voice soft but dripping with heat, arousal. He runs his thumb over Charlie’s entrance again, letting it catch over the rim. “Look at that pretty hole. You want more?”

Charlie nods up at the ceiling, tears blurring his vision from the embarrassment, from being so turned on that it truly aches; a heavy pulsing coming from his lower stomach that matches his heartbeat, quick and severe in its intensity. Charlie whimpers so sweetly when Nick slides his tongue inside again, thumbs teasing at Charlie’s entrance like he wants to spread him further, fucking into him wet and messy.

Charlie catches himself just before he comes; the pleasure is so great that he nearly forgets he can’t do whatever he wants, that he’s trying so hard to be so good. This is Heaven, it just has to be, but Charlie whines, “Oh, daddy, stop, I’m – you’re getting me close.”

Nick either doesn’t understand or pretends he doesn’t hear the gagged complaint, because he doesn’t stop. His eyes flutter closed and he moans, fucking Charlie with earnest, drool sliding down his chin. 

Charlie sobs, tugging at Nick’s hair to get him off, not wanting to disobey as his cock leaks all over his tummy, twitching with each swipe of Nick’s tongue and he suddenly remembers what he had to do last time. He quickly taps on Nick’s hands, gasping with relief but also impatience when Nick immediately stops, pulling away with a messy sound. Nick licks his lips as he stares at Charlie, breathing nearly as hard as he is, and smiles.

“That was so fast, baby boy,” Nick murmurs, running his lips over the bite marks on Charlie’s thighs. “So sensitive for me, hm? Do you want something, sweetheart?”

Charlie bites down on the panties to hold back a whine but he fails, the sound slipping right out of his throat. He attempts to buck up again, nearly hissing at how hard Nick is still gripping his hips. 

“Please,” Charlie whimpers, suppressed by the makeshift gag. “Please, I want it, please.”

Nick stands up to loom over Charlie again, taking in the boy's debauched appearance. Charlie is fully naked, thighs covered in bites and hickeys, ass pink and glistening, cock so hard it’s practically curved up against his tummy, shivering every time he breathes. There’s a pink hue that travels down from his cheeks all the way to his chest, nipples standing to attention. Charlie’s eyes are bright but desperate, tear stains running down his cheeks towards his ears, his plump and swollen lips open from the panties keeping them apart. He looks unbelievable, the exact picture of what sin is. Completely irresistible, ready to be devoured. 

Nick, on the other hand, is still entirely dressed in his clerical uniform. Other than the sweat dampening the tips of his hair and running down into the neckline of his hieratic vestment, he looks like the definition of Holy. His eyes, however, tell a different story; so dark that they appear stormy, a lazy smirk taking over his red lips. It’s obvious that Nick is still aching hard, his done-up pants doing nothing to camouflage how big and how ready he’s been. The image is nothing that Charlie could have ever dreamed up; absolutely divine.

Nick pulls the panties from Charlie’s lips, shushing so softly when Charlie immediately complains, lifting his hips off the bed, trying to cling to Nick’s biceps. “I got you, sweetheart,” Nick breathes, so gentle it seems like he’s soothing an animal, and isn’t he? What is Charlie but a lamb ready for slaughter, an offering on the altar of his God? “What do you need, hm?”

Charlie can feel the tears coming and doesn’t try to stop them. He chokes out a sob and whispers, “Daddy, let me come. Please, let me come.”

Nick makes soft sounds, humming quietly as he takes in what Charlie is saying. “Yeah, I bet you want that, angel.”

Nick undoes his pants again, pulling out his cock with a sigh. It hangs heavy and thick, brushing over Charlie’s on his tummy. Charlie’s cock twitches as he moans, lifting his hips up again for some more friction, his eyes closing.

Nick takes Charlie’s cock into his hand, groaning as Charlie gasps, loud and surprised. He locks eyes with Charlie as he takes his own into his hand too, both of their cocks pressed together, slick and throbbing and messy against his fingers.

Charlie’s eyes widen then flutter back into his head, a deep moan escaping his throat as he’s finally, finally touched by Nick tonight. He thrusts desperately upwards and Nick has him pinned down within a second, free hand squeezing his hip so tight it hurts. 

Charlie starts shivering hard, nodding, eyes locked on Nick’s hand around both of their cocks. “Like this,” he whimpers, precome leaking over Nick’s thick fingers, his own hands grabbing at the ruined sheets under them. “Daddy, I wanna come just like this. Please let me, papi.”

Nick grunts at the name, sliding his cock against Charlie’s like he’s getting accustomed to the feeling. Charlie nearly squeals, his back arching off the bed.

“Please, I’m so close, oh my God. Daddy, I’ve been good,” Charlie whines, fingers hovering over both of their cocks, so desperate for any sort of relief. “Please don’t be mean to me, I’ve been so good.”

Nick gives their cocks a few strokes, slow and making a mess, watching as Charlie’s back arches right off the bed again. 

“You’ve been so good, huh, baby? You think you deserve it?” Nick says, so quiet it’s nearly a rumble in his chest. He opens his palm and spits onto their cocks, once, twice, getting them both dripping wet, sloppy. They can hear Nick’s strokes now, so filthy that it makes him groan too, fucking his fist and dragging his heavy cock over Charlie’s.

Charlie’s eyes roll back, a thick sob escaping his throat. “Oh my God,” he moans, nodding his head. “I deserve it, I deserve – fuck, Father, you punished me, and I took it like a good boy. I wanna be good.”

Nick moans softly too, nodding his head. “Yeah, baby boy. You did so fucking good just for me. You’re gonna come all over daddy’s cock, huh? Just like this?”

Charlie begins to tremble, never having to hold back this severely before, precome dripping down over his tummy and Nick’s hand, panting with his mouth open. “Yes,” he whines, long and pretty. “Can I? Daddy, please, fuck, can I? I don’t want to – I can’t –”

Nick starts to stroke them faster, hand gliding over the warm, silky smooth skin of their cocks pressed together. “Oh, baby. Yeah. You can come for me, sweetheart, c’mon. Make a mess for daddy to clean up.”

Charlie swears the skies open up for him when he finally, finally comes. The moment Nick says yes, his back is bowed off the bed, his mouth open as he goes silent for a few seconds, eyes going wide as he grabs onto Nick’s hand on his hip. Then he tips over, the rush of release so intense that his free hand slams into the sheets next to him, a broken cry leaving his throat as he turns his head to attempt to muffle it but Nick’s hand beats him to it, just barely covering his mouth in time. Charlie bucks, thrusting against Nick’s cock as he comes hard, streaks of come hitting his tummy and up his chest, dripping down Nick’s fingers. He bites down on Nick’s palm as he trembles, shaky sobs escaping his chest, his eyes unable to stay open as they roll back. 

Charlie practically mewls the entire time, loud and desperate and needy as the waves crash through him, nails digging into Nick’s arm that is still keeping his mouth shut. Tears slide down his face from the relief but it quickly turns into desperation, his brow furrowing as his mouth drops open, because Nick’s hand is still moving.

“Daddy,” Charlie gasps. “Fuck, it’s – too much, oh, please –”

Nick hums, acknowledging what Charlie is saying, but doesn’t stop his hand. 

Charlie starts to whimper, trying so hard to back away from Nick’s touch but Nick doesn’t allow it, keeps him nice and still. Charlie’s eyes roll back again. 

“I can’t – oh, fuck, I can’t –”

“This is what you wanted, hm?” Nick asks, voice soft like he’s reading a grocery list. “Begged me to let you come, and I did. What do you say?”

“Aches,” Charlie sobs, grabbing at Nick’s arms again as best as he can. “Please stop, it’s so much, I’m – daddy –”

“What do you say?” Nick asks again, slowing down his hand but not stopping, Charlie trembling like a leaf under his touch. “You were so polite during Mass, yeah? Where’s that energy now, sweetheart?”

Charlie rushes through his memories of Mass, panting hard as the overstimulation starts to make him feel like he’s losing his mind, it hurts and aches and feels good and it’s not enough but way too much and what did he say during Mass? It feels like months, years ago, and he sobs, safeword on the tip of his tongue, yellow, please, and it suddenly hits him –

“Thank you, Father,” Charlie had whispered, bowing his head as a sign of respect when all he had needed to say was Amen. Over the top, begging for a reaction, and now he has it; this is still part of the punishment he desperately asked for.

“Oh, thank you,” Charlie babbles, digging his nails into Nick’s skin. “Thank you, daddy, thank you, I’m sorry, thank you.”

Nick stops immediately, both of his hands settling tight on Charlie’s hips to stop him from thrashing right off the bed. Charlie gasps like it’s his first breath of air in weeks, the relief so great that it makes fresh tears run down his face, his thighs shivering.

“That’s my good boy,” Nick praises, voice so warm it feels like sunlight must be coming from within. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could be so polite.”

Charlie nods, not sure what he’s replying to, just knows that it feels right – his brain feels like it’s been melted, nothing in his thoughts except, Nick and thank you and yes until he realizes Nick is still hard, cock swollen and so pretty, resting against Charlie’s thigh.

“Thank you – daddy, I want you to come,” Charlie whispers, his voice hoarse as he reaches for Nick’s cock, squirming on the sheets. “Please, just – all over me, like this.”

“Oh, baby,” Nick whispers, breathless at the sight, though he gently moves Charlie’s hands away. “You’re perfect. Look at you, barely calmed down and still begging for me to come for you. You’re just… fucking perfect.” He runs his fingers over the mess on Charlie’s chest and tummy, groaning when it makes Charlie moan.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” Nick breathes, taking his cock into his hand with shaky fingers, a complete mess from Charlie’s come. His breath hitches as he starts to get himself off, his free hand undoing the top of his collar easily, licking his lips. “Just lay back and look pretty for me, angel. Just like this.”

Charlie whimpers, his face burning hot again like he didn’t just beg to come for practically hours, Nick’s words enough to make him feel so shy, so wanted and beautiful. He runs his fingers up Nick’s arms just because he can, legs wrapping around the man’s waist easily, tugging him in closer. They both moan at the realization that they’ve never been in this position before and Charlie almost wants to cry from how much he wants this, how much he wants Nick in between his thighs, fucking him in this bed until he can see the stars, until he can talk to God Himself.

“Want it,” Charlie whispers, squirming against Nick’s clothed thighs, grinding against the fabric as if he has anything else to give tonight, so spent and exhausted but so willing. “Want you to fuck me, daddy, just like this.”

Nick’s groan comes from deep in his throat, speeding up his hand at Charlie’s words. His free hand presses against Charlie’s neck, palm resting on his throat, thumb brushing over his pulse point. Charlie allows his mouth to drop open and leans his head back, giving Nick a show.

“Yeah, while you choke me, too. Give it to me hard, I want it so much, I wanna feel you for days,” Charlie babbles, until Nick’s hand squeezes at his throat and cuts his words off with a moan. “Ruin me for anyone else.”

“I’m going to,” Nick pants, his own mouth dropping open. “Oh, baby. I’m going to change your fucking life.”

You already have, Charlie wants to admit. I’m already changed. I’ll never be the same. But he stays silent as his airflow is restricted; he just smiles, holding onto Nick’s hands against his throat as he feels Nick come all over his tummy, over his cock, the man’s head leaned back from the pleasure. Nick looks ethereal like this, his throat bare to Charlie and to the massive cross hanging on the wall above them, panting with his red mouth open, come splattering on the clerical outfit and both of their bodies this way, a real Baptism, bathing them both in God’s light at once.

-

Charlie isn’t sure how much time passes. He slips into that serene place of safe oblivion, where his brain can turn off and he can simply float through his own realities. He can feel something warm and soft caressing over his chest, his stomach and much lower, shivering from the difference in temperature and how gentle the fabric seems to be. He can taste something sweet and fruity, a balm of some sort, as he licks his lips. The shivering doesn’t last long as he’s lifted and clothed again, clinging to the sturdy body that holds him close, nuzzling against the warm skin he can find, breathing it in. The entire time this happens, however long it takes, Charlie can hear a voice speaking to him so softly, so gentle it practically feels like a breeze, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Charlie smiles as he begins to return to Earth, knowing exactly whose voice it is. There isn’t a drop of fear in his body, or uncertainty. He knows he’s safe, in his own piece of Heaven, that nothing bad in this world or the next can touch him here. Charlie listens as closely as he’s able to, allowing himself to drift off into sleep.

“You were so good for me, baby boy. There isn’t a thing I would change about you. I’ll be right here all night; let me know if you need more water, or if you just want to talk. Wake me up if you have to, okay? Take your time coming right back to me.”

I love you, Charlie thinks. He doesn’t need to consider religion, or any God of this or any other world. He knows it as the purest truth. Oh, how I love you.