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He groans into my shoulder. “Fuuuck, bean. Mother’s mercy, I’m coming. Yes, yes, yesss.”
He collapses against my back, slapping a hand between mine on the tile to keep us upright. I’m still shaking from the intensity of the pleasure he’s given me. My mouth’s full of copper from biting down on my lip, lost in our mutual orgasm.
Charlie lifts off my back as he recovers. He draws me up and turns me around, holding me against his chest. Kissing me and running his hands over me while the water drizzles down over both of us. Between kisses, we lazily wash each other. It’s not the thorough clean we could probably both use, but it’s exactly what we need: reassuring and reaffirming that we’ll always be there for each other.
With a final kiss, Charlie shuts off the water. We towel each other dry without words, just soft kisses. I dry his hair while he brushes his teeth. He rubs lotion into my back while I brush mine.
“Keep the towel on while I get you one of my shirts to sleep in.”
“Thanks, Chaz.”
I follow him out into our suite. Yes, Gabe’s seen both of us naked dozens of times. But Charlie’s absolutely right about the towels. None of us are ready to be that exposed yet.
“Your turn in the bathroom, mate,” Charlie tells Gabe, who rises off the edge of our bed, where he’s been waiting.
Neither of us apologize for how long we’ve been in the loo.
As Charlie passes Gabe on the way to the dresser, he says, “You should probably have a wank while you’re in there. Take the edge off.”
Gabe looks startled but then nods before he closes the bathroom door behind him.
Charlie hands me one of his Bevington Swingers T-shirts that comes down nearly to my knees. I slip sleep shorts on underneath it anyway since going bare-arsed seems like the wrong message to send right now.
Charlie, dressed in his own Bevington Swingers shirt, slides into bed. There’s a crinkle that sounds like wrapping paper and Charlie stops half-way under the covers. “Yeah, I forgot about that.”
“What’s that?” I ask, following him into bed.
He pulls a fat, lumpy package out from under the covers. Looks like it’s wrapped in a black plastic bin-bag and tied with a red ribbon, an incongruous combination. He flushes as he hands it to me. “Just something from the guys on the lacrosse team. To say they’re happy you’re back, you know.”
I don’t know and given the lacrosse team’s propensity for pranks, I’m not totally sure I want to know. But I unwrap the package gamely.
Inside, there’s a huge, stuffed teddy bear. Its fur is Bevington purple; it’s wearing a miniature Bevington Swingers T-shirt.
I snigger. “Cute.”
“I mentioned how much I hated leaving you in the mornings to go to practice nowwat Gabe’s not around—” Charlie says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Aww, they got me a Charlie-substitute to cuddle with.” I push it against his chest and mash both bear and boy in a big hug. “I love it, Chaz. Why are you all red?”
“I’m not all red.”
He’s very red.
“Whatever you’re embarrassed about, don’t be.”
“You’re just not a flowers and teddy bears kinda girl and that’s all any of us can come up with to give you. I’ll do better, bean. You deserve sommat special.”
“Hey.” I shape his cheek with my hand. “Dinger the Swinger is special. I don’tneedany of it. Hearts, flowers, teddies, chocolates. I like the occasional prezzie. But you’llalwaysbe the biggest gift I could get, Chaz. Nothing else compares.”
“Nothing compares to you,” Charlie sings, off-key, drawing a chuckle out of me. “You can’t call him Dinger, though. What kind of name is that?”
I’m totally calling him Dinger.
“The name I gave him. He’s my bear. I get to name him. Unless you want me to call him Gnarly.”
“Gnarly?”
“He’s a Charlie-substitute. Gnarly. Gnarly Miller. Has a ring to it.”
