[ He's worth everything. Not because of anything. Not because most of the time he's 'fine'TM, not because he's 'healing', not because he's getting better or being worse. He just is worth it, his single solitary human soul in his meat sack body, whether it's dressed up nice or slick with sweat and saliva. John will love him and John will do what he can to protect him, even from himself. Even from who John used to be. Even from who John could be.
He makes sure it isn't spoken into his mind but he's still willing Charlie to understand him as he holds him and pets him and presses a few kisses into his hair.
You cannot hurt me by being yourself, even with all the scars out in the open. ]
[ It sinks in, sort of. Charlie's still not sure if this is a brave face, or... he's not sure. But he isn't rejecting it.
By turns, he manages to uncurl some, and calm some. He turns his head and, still sobbing here and there but largely swallowing it, he starts to place very soggy kisses on John's chest. They aren't lustful kisses and they aren't supplicant kisses: they're just normal and grounding and good. He hasn't let up his grip on John's hand.
...He still has no idea how to off-ramp from breaking down in front of somebody, but hey, maybe they can just cuddle and avoid talking about it forever? ]
[ An excellent strategy. John will move with Charlie to set this up so that he can wrap an arm around him and curl up with him and press a few sweet kisses of his own. ]
[ Charlie sighs under the kisses. Strangely, this tenderness feels much more high-stakes than the tongue-battling they were doing before, but it still draws some of the pressure out of his chest.
After a bit of this, he clears his throat and says (into whatever part of John's body his face is currently resting against): ]
Whadda you say we pretend I didn't ruin it at the end there, huh?
[ It's very much a 'haha just kidding unless...?' sort of question. ]
[ This is why, so often, he likes being big. He likes having long arms and a nice broad chest and so much that someone can bury themselves against or curl up in or be held by when they need it or want it. Charlie's getting a few more kisses. Then he'll look at him and nod.
Then sort of bobble his head back and forth.
...it's okay, Charlie, it really didn't ruin anything.
He'll follow that with a kiss against his temple. ]
[ Another kiss, another sigh. It is comfortable here in John's arms, which feels weird to realise even though -- given all the time they've spent, platonic and not, human and otherwise -- it absolutely shouldn't even have to be a realisation.
It's in part so comfortable because, after the cardio of both sex and a breakdown, he feels ready to just melt into something. But he's used at this point in his life to that not being someone. He knows he's the weak link here and he feels a way about that, but he can guess why John's not talking, and he can say for sure that he's not going to sleep here, just... factually. The mere act of thinking about it makes him jump with the faint automatic movement that interrupts dropping off. He kisses John's collarbone gently, in case that was felt. ]
You're... a goddamn marvel, kid, I hope you know that.
[ It's more or less what he would have said if he hadn't, you know, instead. It still bears saying. So he's bringing them back to it. ]
[ Okay pal, he was just ready for the voice, you didn't have to murder him with words.
Charlie's heart is touched by that; it -- to echo John's words earlier -- makes him feel warm, there. He's also shifting to look John in the face, to work out exactly how he's intended to parse that statement. Love can mean something between friends, yeah, but it's a big word to use when they're wrapped together like this.
He doesn't want to give John the wrong impression, doesn't want to lead him on and hurt him later. There's attraction, yes, and friendship, yes, but Charlie's not falling for anyone. He only likes John, and is always happy to see him, and is charmed by his enthusiasm, and admires his many talents, and likes to tell him new things and see his eyes light up about it, and can't look away when he smiles, and stands in awe of everything he's survived through and everything he chooses to make himself now, and wants him to be happy, and wants to do right by him, and wants to spend time with him, and...
Oh. Oh, fuck.
We hope John is enjoying one of the very rare occasions when he gets to watch Charlie go on a face journey! ]
[ Oh this is a problem waiting to happen and Charlie is going to throw it in a bucket and examine it neverlaternever at some point that isn't now. ]
Huh.
[ ...fuck him, he doesn't have to examine it in order to turn his head and carefully kiss John's mouth. Those can be two different things. And the guy with the whistle can rattle Charlie's guts and shout about long cons all he likes, but he's being... ignored is a strong word, but he's deliberately not being actively listened to. ]
[ Charlie responds in kind. He can think of few more enjoyable distractions. He kisses slower than before, indulgent rather than urgent, and traces the rounded shapes of John's chest and shoulders with his fingers.
Look, it's not as if making out with John is going to be any more dangerously foolish the second time around, right? ]
[ John will feel Charlie smirking against his mouth. He enjoys getting signs that John likes what he's doing, okay. And that's...
Well, for obvious reasons, that's different enough from any noises the King ever made.
His fingers keep moving lightly: they map the muscles of John's upper back, then find the valley of his spine and follow it down, in no particular hurry to do more than enjoy the journey. ]
[ He will notice the rumble goes up and down, follows the way his fingers move, practically like a purr. He'll feel that smirk and he'll get kissed a little more insistently because you're an asshole, sir, of course he likes your hands. How many times does he have to say it? ]
[ Until Charlie gets tired of hearing it! And so he'll be saying it until the end of time.
Fascinated by the eldritch purr, Charlie brings one hand to John's cheek and runs it through his beard, down through the thinner hair under his chin, and further down his throat. His thumb ghosts back and forth over the prominent crown marking on the way, though that's mostly a subconscious thought. ]
[ Charlie sighs happily at that and tilts his head a little to give John easier access, looking down at the expanse of him through half-closed eyes. He moves one hand again over the hill of John's adam's apple and down into the smooth nook between his throat and collarbone; the other hand, the one that's wandering, slips around John's absurdly beautiful waist to touch the small of his absurdly beautiful back. ]
[ John just... unwinds under his hands, kissing him as an afterthought as he facilitates as much of Charlie exploring him as Charlie is wont to do. He could sit here forever and just be touched, with love, with delight, with whatever Charlie is feeling because his touch is good.
It's a good thing he can't read the narration, though, because he'd point out that Charlie might be a little biased. ]
[ They go on like this for a while, as gradually Charlie settles back into himself. He's glad for it. He's glad they're doing this instead of letting his embarrassing outburst sour the end of John's visit. He's glad he gets to take his time now; the scenery looks different in quiet appreciation than in impatient lust, though it's just as lovely in both. He's glad he gets to touch John like this at all. He refuses to wonder whether or not he'll get the chance again.
Presently he tilts John, gently, onto his back on the bed, the better to pepper him with soft, exploratory kisses all over his throat and upper arms and chest, mouthing at him here and there, seeking idly for places he likes to be touched the best. ]
[ His favorite spots are the ones he's touching, when he's touching them. It's like being asked for his favorite spoonful of ice cream. They're all delicious, and he's melting into the bed in warm bliss as Charlie goes about his exploration. ]
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He makes sure it isn't spoken into his mind but he's still willing Charlie to understand him as he holds him and pets him and presses a few kisses into his hair.
You cannot hurt me by being yourself, even with all the scars out in the open. ]
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By turns, he manages to uncurl some, and calm some. He turns his head and, still sobbing here and there but largely swallowing it, he starts to place very soggy kisses on John's chest. They aren't lustful kisses and they aren't supplicant kisses: they're just normal and grounding and good. He hasn't let up his grip on John's hand.
...He still has no idea how to off-ramp from breaking down in front of somebody, but hey, maybe they can just cuddle and avoid talking about it forever? ]
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After a bit of this, he clears his throat and says (into whatever part of John's body his face is currently resting against): ]
Whadda you say we pretend I didn't ruin it at the end there, huh?
[ It's very much a 'haha just kidding unless...?' sort of question. ]
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Then sort of bobble his head back and forth.
...it's okay, Charlie, it really didn't ruin anything.
He'll follow that with a kiss against his temple. ]
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It's in part so comfortable because, after the cardio of both sex and a breakdown, he feels ready to just melt into something. But he's used at this point in his life to that not being someone. He knows he's the weak link here and he feels a way about that, but he can guess why John's not talking, and he can say for sure that he's not going to sleep here, just... factually. The mere act of thinking about it makes him jump with the faint automatic movement that interrupts dropping off. He kisses John's collarbone gently, in case that was felt. ]
You're... a goddamn marvel, kid, I hope you know that.
[ It's more or less what he would have said if he hadn't, you know, instead. It still bears saying. So he's bringing them back to it. ]
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Not too bad yourself, sir. ]
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Talk to me. I'm big and ugly enough to take it.
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You don't have to push so hard. Even if it hurt... the way you fight to love me- it takes away the sting.
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Charlie's heart is touched by that; it -- to echo John's words earlier -- makes him feel warm, there. He's also shifting to look John in the face, to work out exactly how he's intended to parse that statement. Love can mean something between friends, yeah, but it's a big word to use when they're wrapped together like this.
He doesn't want to give John the wrong impression, doesn't want to lead him on and hurt him later. There's attraction, yes, and friendship, yes, but Charlie's not falling for anyone. He only likes John, and is always happy to see him, and is charmed by his enthusiasm, and admires his many talents, and likes to tell him new things and see his eyes light up about it, and can't look away when he smiles, and stands in awe of everything he's survived through and everything he chooses to make himself now, and wants him to be happy, and wants to do right by him, and wants to spend time with him, and...
Oh. Oh, fuck.
We hope John is enjoying one of the very rare occasions when he gets to watch Charlie go on a face journey! ]
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He's assuming a panic attack.
So.
Back to silent again.
Charlie's getting a soft little nudge and a tentative kiss to the cheek.]
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neverlaterneverat some point that isn't now. ]Huh.
[ ...fuck him, he doesn't have to examine it in order to turn his head and carefully kiss John's mouth. Those can be two different things. And the guy with the whistle can rattle Charlie's guts and shout about long cons all he likes, but he's being... ignored is a strong word, but he's deliberately not being actively listened to. ]
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Look, it's not as if making out with John is going to be any more dangerously foolish the second time around, right? ]
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And the kissing. ]
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Well, for obvious reasons, that's different enough from any noises the King ever made.
His fingers keep moving lightly: they map the muscles of John's upper back, then find the valley of his spine and follow it down, in no particular hurry to do more than enjoy the journey. ]
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Fascinated by the eldritch purr, Charlie brings one hand to John's cheek and runs it through his beard, down through the thinner hair under his chin, and further down his throat. His thumb ghosts back and forth over the prominent crown marking on the way, though that's mostly a subconscious thought. ]
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It's a good thing he can't read the narration, though, because he'd point out that Charlie might be a little biased. ]
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Presently he tilts John, gently, onto his back on the bed, the better to pepper him with soft, exploratory kisses all over his throat and upper arms and chest, mouthing at him here and there, seeking idly for places he likes to be touched the best. ]
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...you can do this... any time you want.
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You quite enjoyin' yourself down there? [ Hey John, you like his shit-eating grins, right? ]
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At least as much as you're enjoying yourself.
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quietly refreshing that nsfw warning
Re: quietly refreshing that nsfw warning
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