“What is that?”
Charlie looked at him from where he petted Belle on the bed. She yawned at having her nap disturbed. “What’s what?”
Nick reached across the bed to squeeze the long pillow that lay on top of the comforter. Like a toppled pillar the same length as the mattress. Charlie deciphered, “It’s my body pillow.”
“Was this here last time?” Nick asked with amusement. He hugged the end of it to his chest to gauge what it’d be like to sleep on it. “How’d I miss this?”
“You weren’t looking at the bed,” Charlie cornered mischievously, otherwise moving an official-looking folder out of the way.
Nick’s curiosity got the better of him and he inquired, “What’s that?”
Charlie moved it to his desk while he explained, “My sixth form school has an alumni weekend coming up. They invited me for a panel and some other stuff.”
“Stuff?” he pushed, intrigued.
“Yeah, they called my mum first, so now they know I’m in town and roped me into a bunch of things. A discussion panel, the opening performance, and a class.”
“A panel?” Nick repeated as he sat back on the bed. “Like, you’d be a guest or in the audience?”
“Like, on stage with a microphone,” Charlie laughed nervously. “It wouldn’t be just me, thankfully.”
“What’s the panel?”
“Basically, how we’re still doing music, music as a job in the real world, something to give the students hope that they can use their skills out there.”
“Is it open to everyone or just students of the school?”
Charlie’s eyes moved as he took a second to recollect, “The panels are open to everyone. The special one-off classes are for students only.”
“Could I come?”
That gave Charlie pause. “Why…would you want to?”
Nick frowned at him like it were obvious. “Because you’re performing. You said there’s an opening performance. The panel counts too… Would you not want me to come?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he recovered. “I just think…it’ll be boring, won’t it?”
“That doesn’t matter. I want to support you.”
Charlie pivoted towards the door. “You’re supporting me already by helping me with the gala. We’ll see how sick of me you are by the end of it.”
Nick blew a raspberry as Charlie walked out of the room. He heard the sound of the bathroom sink and tooth brushing, but didn’t think much of it until Charlie returned and they were kissing. Nick smiled against Charlie’s mouth. He murmured, “You taste like toothpaste.”
“Well, yeah,” Charlie smiled back, and hummed into Nick’s mouth as they kissed some more. A lot more. Nick did not know how long they made out for in Charlie’s room. He knew Charlie had hoovered the floor since the carboard confetti was gone. He knew it was long enough for the mint flavour to be gone and his lips to turn clumsy and useless. By this point, his trousers were open and his jaw dropped with Charlie’s hand in his pants. They lay on their sides on Charlie’s floor, one cat and a body pillow taking up all availability on the bed.
Nick could not say he minded. Not with Charlie pulling firm, confident moans out of him. Nick’s hands sought the best places to hold onto him but Charlie was slimmer than him. Nick didn’t want to hurt him and he didn’t want to be in the way of everything Charlie wanted to do to his body. One of Nick’s hands found its favourite place, the back of Charlie’s head for his curls. But as his orgasm taunted with every pull of Charlie’s hand, Nick’s own clenched before he hastily let go.
“You can hold onto me,” Charlie corrected.
Nick swallowed to moisten his throat. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Charlie’s eyes, hazy with lust but still more lucid than Nick’s, wandered his face, reading him. “Do you want to try something else?”
Charlie’s hand slowed down so Nick could moderately think clearly. Not like he needed thought, as he panted, “Yeah,” without pondering further on it.
Charlie did, though, and asked, “Can I touch the back?” Nick’s eyes opened properly and Charlie annotated, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that,” Nick caught his breath. “I’ve never…done anything with the back before.”
Charlie rolled a slender shoulder. “Some people like it. Some people don’t. You can say no.”
“Do you? Like it, I mean?” Nick wanted to know. It surprised him, how hungrily he wanted to know. Both as reassurance for himself and for the future.
Charlie smiled, and it could surely be a crime to grin so sweetly over such a topic. The way his head slumped to the side, his neck long as he gazed up at Nick. “Yes, I do. When it’s done right, of course.”
A singular brain cell in Nick’s head wondered if he should be worried at how swiftly he was on board. This probably accounted for why he asked, “We would need lube, wouldn’t we?”
“For hands, yes,” Charlie said before he ventured, “I would use my mouth.”
The lone brain cell shriveled up and perished. Nick exhaled, “Y-You’re okay with that?”
“If you are okay with it,” he said, remarkably serious.
Nick didn’t know if he was okay with it. Without the experience, he did not know if he liked it or didn’t like it. This concern formulated into him answering, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Charlie let go of him but only for his hand to go as far as his hip. “You’re not disappointing me by saying no. I’d be more bothered if you didn’t tell me when you needed to.”
“N-No, I mean…if I realize I don’t like it, I think I’ll be embarrassed.”
Charlie smiled and proposed, “We can both be embarrassing today. Deal?”
Nick chuckled breathily, aiming for his mouth. “Deal.”
They kissed for a long moment, before Nick braved, “How do you want me?”
Charlie kissed his chin. It felt like a poke to Nick’s heart. “I’ll get there slowly.”
Nick did not know what that meant until he crawled down to Nick’s pelvis and took his erection into his mouth. Nick’s eyes shuddered closed, not a bad prelude at all. His hand slid into Charlie’s curls, his orgasm restarting its climb with gusto. Meanwhile, Charlie’s arms moved between his thighs to reach up for the back of his underwear and trousers. A string of spit connected him to Nick’s cockhead as he pulled off but neither noticed or cared as Nick let Charlie turn his molten body over onto his hands and knees. Nick couldn’t really feel how far down his clothes were, so overheated he was from lust that the open air didn’t bother him.
Nick did feel the wet kiss on his ass cheek before a long lave of Charlie’s tongue pressed over his hole. In an instant, Nick knew this was worse than being embarrassed. He loved it. His spine stiffened just as quickly as he surrendered his head down to the carpet. He heard Charlie utter something. All Nick’s ears caught were, “…okay?”
He nodded into the fibers. “Yeah…Hahh! ”
Charlie licked him again and a blissed out smile curved Nick’s mouth. He adjusted his arms around his head, elbows pressing into the carpet. Charlie’s tongue drew a spiral around his hole that finished in him dipping a little bit inside. Nick’s eyes blinked open. The slime, the warmth, the ease of it all made him feel like another dial in his brain was recalibrating. Reevaluating how this was new and odd and fun and…no big deal? It was both extraordinary and merely like another window had opened in a dark room he hadn’t even realized he’d been living inside. An odd sensation, feeling on the precipice of something while also feeling safely anchored. Nick leaned into the latter, trusting Charlie.
Charlie, who fondled his balls and asked again, “Are you okay?”
Nick’s mouth answered before his brain, “I wanna cum.”
“You can touch yourself,” Charlie said, like he needed the reminder. Thing is, Nick didn’t reach for his cock. Charlie deduced, “Do you want me to touch the front?”
“Yeah.” Nick did not have the bandwidth to evaluate or despise how whiny his voice sounded in his own ears.
Charlie reached around him, one hand on his cock and the other splaying over Nick’s lumbar. Nick thrust into his hand, eager and needing it. Charlie needed to stand higher on his knees to balance himself, but the movement aligned his pelvis with Nick’s, putting them into the position for penetration if their clothes weren’t in the way. Charlie didn’t change a thing. He pumped Nick’s cock as well as he could, but Nick’s rutting into his hand and backwards onto his clothed erection made Charlie’s eyes cross.
They moved together. Nick, having been edged already so close to his finish, came quickly. He unloaded onto the carpet and Charlie’s fingers. Through his trembling, Charlie kept moving against him, but then he stopped and rolled onto his back beside him. Nick lay once more on his side, where he surveyed the rise and fall of Charlie’s chest before he asked, “Did you cum?”
Charlie moved his head in a slow and slight turn, as if he were hesitant to answer. “No.”
Nick spoke slowly, his afterglow making him sluggish. “Why’d you stop?”
Another pause. Charlie’s words came out a little stilted, like he was working through how to respond in real time. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay there.”
Nick absorbed this, processing the way Charlie seemed so conscientious of touching him too much, versus the way Nick couldn’t get enough. His hand slid over Charlie’s abdomen, and lower. Not lower than his pajama trouser drawstring, but the hint was clear. “Can I touch you?”
Charlie’s slow nod quickened with his ardent, “Yes!”
Nick gave the drawstring bow a pull. The ribbon fluttered out of his way and he gripped the sides of Charlie’s underwear to pull all of it down. He heard Charlie gasp and looked up. Charlie briefly met his gaze before doing one of his ragdoll flops, a hand over his eyes. Nick, menace as he liked to be, asked, “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Charlie exhaled, with what little air he had left—
Nick took him in hand, pushing his fist down over his erection, moving the skin and licking over the shiny head. Charlie’s jaw dropped as Nick’s mouth closed around him. His hands fumbled, one of them finding Nick’s elbow. To Nick’s fascination, Charlie pulled that arm underneath his jumper and shirt, wanting more skin on skin. Nick happily obliged but did so blindly as he worked on learning how to do a blowjob. Or at least, up until he popped off and used his hand. He moved himself between Charlie’s legs, one of which moved aside to give him room for whatever he wanted. He wanted to see Charlie, to explore his torso underneath his clothes and to not do something stupid with his teeth…
The tips of Charlie’s fangs peeked out from underneath his lip. Nick’s hand serpentined up his chest, to the collars of his garments. Charlie’s body rippled up into Nick’s hand on his cock, his orgasm visibly growing. Charlie’s pleasure was a mesmerizing sight, but Nick had to focus. One hand kept up its pace while the other emerged out of Charlie’s shirt collar. Fingertips moved over his jaw. The pad of Nick’s thumb caught his humid breath as he touched Charlie’s lips.
Charlie’s eyes opened as his fangs extended even more, and then closed as he came. Nick’s hand rushed with his pelvic shivers before he stilled like he hit the wall of his climax and had to slide back down. Nick’s hand in his shirt eased back down to his chest, where Charlie caught it on top of his jumper. Nick put his fading erection back inside his pants and came up to lie down beside him.
Charlie’s head turned, his eyes briefly sweeping over him before he slid his arm underneath Nick’s neck. Nick willingly came in close, head on the front of Charlie’s shoulder and chest. He liked being there, but needed to ask, “Am I too heavy?”
Charlie looked down at him and shook his head. The corner of his mouth pinched in a smile before he kissed Nick’s forehead. “I like it. I like your weight on me.”
Nick relaxed, his hand easing over to hold the curve of Charlie’s ribs. “I like being with you.”
Charlie’s thumb moved on his shoulder in small pets…until Nick realized a sound was coming from on top of Charlie’s bed. Purring, like a small engine. His head started to lift but Charlie blurted, “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“She’s,” he sighed, “she’s purring because of me. My resonance moved.”
Nick deciphered that and a smile slowly crawled onto his face. “You like being with me too? She’s purring because you can’t?”
“Don’t hold this against me.”
Nick giggled like he was drunk, pressing his nose into the hickeys on Charlie’s neck.
* * *
Sarah looked up at her son coming home and into the kitchen. “Hello, darling. How was your game? I’m sorry I had to miss this one.”
“It’s fine. We lost,” he answered distractedly. “Can I use your tablet?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
Nick did not answer right away, he swiped through his phone at the pictures he’d taken at Charlie’s:
The stove and counter full of food.
Belle sleeping like a broken croissant on the bed.
The folder bearing Charlie’s sixth form school name and emblem.
Nick unlocked the tablet and explained as he looked up the school, “Charlie told me he has an alumnus weekend coming up at his sixth form.”
Sarah kept up with Nick’s schedule and Truham events well enough to know aloud, “Not Truham. He did sixth form somewhere else?”
Nick paused to sigh at himself. “When the boys recognized him at Harry’s party, one of them said they thought Charlie hadn’t finished school. It’s dumb, because obviously he did. But I’m curious.”
Sarah came over to the kitchen table and read over his shoulder, “Cecilia School of Musical Performing Arts. I’ve driven past there.”
Nick peeked over his shoulder at her. “What’s it like?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t get a good enough look at the place. Perhaps Events, there.”
Nick tapped the menu link she pointed to and, sure enough, the alumni weekend was the biggest deal at the moment. When Nick said as much, Sarah laughed lightly, “They’re fundraising for the school, and enticing new students to come there.”
Nick scrolled through the page. Everything from the weekend itinerary, special course options for registered students, to a list of guests attending…
Sarah said with a smile in her voice, “Look at that.”
He certainly did, but he couldn’t help but voice incredulously, “He has professional headshots?”
“I suppose he’d have to,” Sarah said, before turning around to go back to working on dinner.
Nick stayed where he was, gazing between Charlie’s photo portrait and his short biography: Cecilia is proud to welcome back Charlie Spring for our welcoming concert and “Music, Continued” panel. A skilled drummer, lyricist, and resonator, Charlie attends university in London whilst being a studio percussionist under a professional label. Students may look forward to his class with Professor Geryon. Check the alumni weekend itinerary for more details.
Nick smiled softly at Charlie’s portrait photo. Proud. The feeling in his chest was proud. Harry and his stupid cohorts had written Charlie off as a toy at their disposal, but here he was. Charlie was busy, successful, and kind. Handsome and sweet enough to humor Nick’s insistent whims—
“Oh, mum,” he whirled around in his chair. “Can I work at the hotel this coming Friday? There’s a gala and I need a bow tie.”
Sarah stared at him, her mind working to catch up. “Why would you need a bow tie for an apple?”
His features froze in confusion. “What?”
“Gala is a type of apple. It’s a joke,” she quickly dismissed. “Have you talked it over with Coach Singh?”
“Not yet, but I will when I see her on Monday.”
“I want the hours you intend on working. If your coach is all right with it, we’ll get you ready on Wednesday.”
* * *
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Mrs. Singh said as they walked together out to the rugby pitch. She squinted to cast a sideways look at him. “Volunteering, eh? You building up for a job?”
“I’m not sure. I found a place I like working at. Mostly just lucky.”
“Well, don’t be so lucky that I have to source us a co-captain.” They shared a mutual conspiratorial smile but she added sincerely, “If you find yourself needing a letter of recommendation, you come right to me, okay? I’ll get you sorted.”
“Thanks, miss,” Nick said gratefully, within the radius of Otis and Sai’s hearing.
Sai asked, “You’re getting a job, Nick?”
“No, no, I just won’t be here for Friday’s practice.”
Nick could say it was just his luck that Harry overheard, but Harry always made himself available to being an inconvenience. “Oi, Nick. You got a date, finally?”
Coach Singh came to his rescue and heralded, “Keep your love lives out of practice, lads. I want you kickin’ up grass with how much energy you’re showing me. Let’s go!”
After practice, Nick emerged dressed back into his school uniform and walked right into his mother talking with his coach. “Hi, baby. You ready?”
“Yeah.” He glanced between her and his coach, puzzled anticipation on his face.
Mrs. Singh wrapped up their conversation with, “It’s good to hear about Charlie. I’ve got a couple of teachers here who will be very happy to know he’s doing well. Get home safely, you two.”
“You as well,” Sarah and Nick bid in unison, before the latter said on their way to the car, “What was that about?”
“I wanted to double check that she was all right with you missing Friday. This late in the term, there are usually important games happening.”
“Not for us,” he laughed while opening his car door. “We lose too much for that. How does she know Charlie?”
“I’m not sure,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt. “You don’t think he was a rugby boy?”
Nick pointed a keen glare at her, earning a snort. “Charlie’s exact words when I went over in the rain on Saturday were, ‘I can’t believe you play a sport in this.’ ”
Sarah laughed and looked around as she pulled out of the car park. “He’s certainly the more intellectual sort, isn’t he? I mentioned you knew someone worked at the hotel and she wanted to know if she recognized the name. She certainly did. She did just say that two of her colleagues knew him, so maybe that’s why. Are you starving?”
He took a second to check in with his body and warned, “I’m gonna be.”
Her nose wrinkled with the quick tick of her lips as she decided, “We’ll get your tie Wednesday, then.”
Nick pulled out his phone and messaged Charlie, How is gala set-up going?
He did not receive a reply until he was home, but he read, I am so glad I won’t be here for all the school balls and proms.
Is it really a lot of work?
We can’t have volunteers for this part because there’s a lot of scaffolding and ladders involved. Too risky.
Nick smiled crookedly as he typed, You on ladders?
People think skinny = lightweight = it won’t hurt when I fall eye rolling emoji
Nick’s smile vanished and he typed under furrowed brows. I don’t like that at all. Are you safe so far?
So far, Charlie reassured with an arm flexing emoji.
* * *
Did you ever find your bow tie?
Nooo, Charlie replied. I’ll have to borrow my dad’s.
Nick sent him a picture of a box with two bow ties. Is this okay? I can bring the other one over to yours?
“Nicky,” his mother intercepted in the store. Both of her hands bore hangers; one with crisp white shirts and the other with waistcoats. “I’d like for you to try these on.”
“Why? My Truham shirts should work fine.”
“You’re due for new shirts, your shoulder width has changed. I’ll need to dig out your brother’s old blazer to see if it fits you. If it doesn’t, I’ll pick up a new one the same time I get you new trousers. Go on, then.”
She traded the box of bow ties with him and he went to the changing room. He quickly narrowed down which shirt he’d want for Friday but took a selfie in the mirror with a waistcoat as well. He read from Charlie, You won’t be able to give it to me until you arrive on Friday! Down to the wire!!
He sent the photo and typed. We can do it. It’ll be okay. What are you wearing? FRIDAY. I mean Friday. What are you wearing Friday.
Charlie’s ellipsis popped and Nick exhaled heavily as he changed into a different vest. He picked up his phone again to read, Lol I’m wearing my usual penguin suit. Currently and on Friday. You look great!
I’m not sure I like the vests.
Then don’t wear one.
Is that too casual?
Just have the bow tie and make sure the shirt is clean.
Nick emerged from the changing rooms. “Yes, to this shirt. No, to the vests.”
“All right,” Sarah agreed, but then prompted, “Shoes.”
Nick followed her line of sight to the side of the store with the dress shoes. “Mum, it’s not prom.”
She encaged him in a motherly look. “You’re not wearing your black trainers to a gala, darling. Go. As you’re nearly done growing, the shoes will last you a while. Make sure to pick a pair you like.”
“I’m working with Charlie and we’ll be going back and forth from the kitchen.”
She honed in on that and rerouted, “You’ll need tread, then. We’re stopping by a different store.”
Nick followed her to the cash register with a great deal of patience. He typed to Charlie, My mum is taking this way too seriously.
Charlie responded, Please don’t forget the tie on Friday!
I won’t! Promise.
* * *
“Wow,” Sarah marveled as she cruised through the line of traffic. “You’re in for a festive, busy evening.”
She put her window down to speak with one of the parking coordinators, who radioed in that a volunteer had arrived before giving her instructions on how to drive through the lot instead of parking. Nick held the bow tie box, sans one tie that now sat at his own throat.
When Sarah stopped where instructed to drop Nick off, they met the surprise of Charlie bursting out of the hotel. Nick opened his door with, “Hey!”
“Hey! Hi, Sarah.”
“Hello, Charlie. You look very suave.”
“Thank you,” he grinned, despite his rush to get the tie out of the box Nick handed him. “May I leave the rubbish here?”
“I’ll handle it,” Sarah confirmed, and he stepped around the car door to use the rearview mirror. While he tied the bow, Nick checked that he had everything he needed—
“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” Charlie announced flatly.
Sarah ordered, “Come here.”
Nick’s back hit the seat to be out of the way as Charlie dove into the car. Nick blurted a laugh and caught him with a hand on Charlie’s chest, holding him up like a plank. Charlie poised himself for Sarah to pull his tie loose and redo the leaves of it. She used a pen to make the loops crisp and withdrew a lighter from the door cubby to polish the edges. Charlie held his breath and he held as still as a statue, whereas Nick exclaimed, “We have a lighter in here?”
She ignored that to usher them out. “You’re ready. Go! Have fun, boys.”
Charlie clambered backwards out of the car, pushing off of Nick’s thighs. “Thank you, Sarah!”
He stopped in the middle of the street with a hand open towards a car coming down the lane. He waited for Nick to shut the car door and catch up, the pair of them running into the side of the hotel to start their long evening shift. Charlie took him into the staff room for him to put away his coat, and it was there that he asked a little shyly, “Nick?”
He turned around from indecorously stuffing his coat into a shelf. “Yeah?”
Charlie held up his phone. “Can I have a picture?”
Nick felt almost ticklish with the idea that Charlie wanted something like that. Then again, who was the one who snapped secret photos of a stove?
Nick said, “Yeah, sure,” but when their body language shifted for the picture, they met each other’s gaze again. Nick realized, “A picture of me? Just me?”
“Yes?” Charlie grinned in an awkward, square way. “You look so good in your bow tie.”
“No, no, no, we take it together,” Nick declared, and took his phone from him. Charlie stepped to his side, and Nick put his arm on his back, but it felt…off. They smiled at the screen, but in an overly polite way. Like a wave surging to the forefront of his mind, Nick realized they were in public. They were technically working. And a picture was so…boyfriendy. Nick wanted it for that exact reason, but they weren’t in his or Charlie’s house. They weren’t tucked away in a dark corner of a garden maze. They weren’t out or official in any way.
All of this clashed in Nick’s brain as he handed Charlie his phone and someone called to them to join the others. Nick had to shove his thoughts away for now, but he did manage to say, “Send that to me.”
“I will. Remind me afterward.”
“Okay,” he said, and marched with him to a drawing room that had been completely emptied of furniture aside from lines of tables to facilitate food preparations. Velvet ropes sectioned off the route for cooks to come from the kitchens and for the waitstaff to finish plating and take it to the main ballroom. The latter of which, Nick noticed was still mostly empty.
“Where is everyone?”
“They’re doing their business speeches and toasts in the smaller ballroom before the party unleashes in here. Nick, this is Hannah.”
Nick turned around to face a remarkably young staff member, compared to all the adults. Then he remembered how Charlie mentioned a girl from Higgs had also volunteered. He smiled kindly, “Hello, I’m Nick.”
“I’ve heard of you,” she greeted with a hand out for a shake. “Rugby captain, right?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, but she gazed at him for a long second.
“Who’s the guy who’s loud?”
Charlie coughed a laugh behind him, but Nick matched it with a knowing tone. “Harry. That’s Harry. Truham’s megaphone.”
“I hope you won’t mind me saying, I thought he was the captain. But you’re much more soft-spoken, so I knew I got something mixed up. That’s a compliment, by the way.”
Nick didn’t know what to do with that but he didn’t have to since the concierge woman sweeping by. “Hannah, love, you’re with me.”
“Okay. See you around?” she finished with Nick.
“Yeah,” he replied, and joined Charlie in arranging plates on the long tables. “What are we doing?”
“The kitchen is going to be bringing in dishes, so we’re putting napkins in these to cushion the landing and noise. The traction between the plates will also help us carry all these out later.”
Nick picked up a stack of the paper napkins and dropped them down the line. Just in time, since cooks filed in with large trays of food that had finished cooking but needed to be plated just so. One of the chefs did a demonstration, swiping the sauce around the tall medallion of potatoes, before he garnished the top. “Got it? Don’t ruin my spuds, boys.”
He left to see to the rest in the kitchen, while Charlie exhaled with inflated cheeks. Nick consoled, “Gratin dauphinoise…it’s basically gravy and potatoes. We can’t mess this up.”
However, he found Charlie staring at him. “What?”
Charlie’s brows swooped up to his curls. “You said that like a natural.”
“Oh,” he realized and explained, “my dad’s French.”
“French…as in you’re good at pronouncing it or…?”
“As in I have a French passport,” Nick puzzled before he shrugged. “I can speak household French but that’s about it.”
Charlie leaned forward with the weight of that before he corrected himself. But not before Nick squinted at him. “Wait…do you like the fact that I speak French?”
“No!” he defended and fooled nobody. “It’s cool. It’s useful, I guess.”
A grin consumed Nick’s face. “Charlie!”
“I’m busy,” he spun around and started the task of finishing the plates. Nick laughed in delight with this new information but grasped the squirt bottle of gravy sauce before he moved down the assembly line with him.
They made a good team. The pair moved efficiently down the table—until the cap of Nick’s bottle fired off. Nick blurted a sound, but hastily looked around to see who might’ve witnessed the error. “Charlie! Problem.”
Charlie looked up and repeated, “Problem?” Then he observed the swamp of sauce in one of the dishes. “Oh.”
Nick’s brain rapid fired through possible scenarios, all of them bad. He’d been allowed into Charlie’s inner circle of work and he’d been undone by a sauce bottle. “What do we do? Does it have to be thrown away?” he dreaded.
“No, that faulty bottle is what goes in the bin. It should’ve been discarded weeks ago. I’ll be right back.”
Nick stood by, unsure what to do. When Charlie returned, he had a fresh bottle of gravy and a new stack of napkins. He handed the bottle to Nick and instructed, “Keep going. That one shouldn’t break on you.”
“What about this?” he gestured to the dish. “Will the chef be pissed?”
“The chef won’t know,” Charlie answered, already honed in on his task. With an offset spatula, he removed the gratin to a napkin, which absorbed the gravy around the foot of it. Charlie dumped the dish over a bin and took it to the kitchen before replacing it with a fresh one. Gratin on, decorative gravy swiped on, and the garnish in place, they kept going.
Nick uttered a quiet, grateful, “Well done.”
Charlie offered him a consoling smile but it didn’t touch his eyes. “The show goes on.”
“I’m sorry for the mess.”
“It’s fine. Just please don’t dump an entire tray of these when we carry them out.”
“I won’t…has that happened before?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Nick’s features opened but he left the matter alone. He had a bigger revelation on the way, which was Charlie lifting an entire tray onto his shoulder, alone. And then he had the gall to peek back at Nick to check, “Are you okay with that?”
“Are you? ” Nick countered bluntly.
Charlie huffed a steady laugh. “I’m stronger than I look. But only just. Let’s go.”
They went, one tray at a time filling up the buffet along the walls of the ballroom. They finished just in time, as the doors opened and the party flooded into the room. All at once, music and livery consumed the hotel. Nick had a slight flashback to Harry’s party, but that seemed juvenile in comparison to this. He also had a better idea of what Charlie had to work on with the scaffolding and ladders. “You did a great job with the decorations.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said as they returned to the workroom. “I can’t wait to tear it down.”
Nick scoffed a laugh and teased, “Do you get to take the balloons home?”
“Whatever the hosts don’t want to keep, yes.” Nick’s eyes lit up and Charlie laughed, “I don’t know if Sarah wants a house full of balloons.”
“The static electricity would be a storm.”
They laughed together and set upon the task of the next food course. Nick understood very well what Charlie had meant with the labour of the event, but Nick couldn’t say he truly minded. For all of the discomfort and exertion, he still got to follow Charlie into the garden and collapse onto the clubhouse couch for their halfway point in the night. Given the noise and lights of the party, the clubhouse stood like a quiet oasis despite the staff rotating out of it for their breaks. Everyone chatted off and on, but the halt in stimuli was felt by all.
While staff and volunteers conversed amongst each other, Nick nudged Charlie’s leg. He lifted his head off the back of the couch to see Nick waiting with his phone for a selfie. Charlie stuck his tongue out and Nick inflated his cheeks.
The concierge and Hannah walked in, the former high fiving Charlie before strolling behind the couch to scratch Charlie’s scalp where his head reclined once more. Hannah sat on Nick’s other side, dividing his brain between her and Charlie’s conversation.
“Hey,” Hannah sighed, glad for a break.
“Hey,” he returned, the same time he heard the concierge ask, “Have you had any yet?”
“No,” Charlie replied. “I haven’t been in the main room much.”
“You guys are really hustling,” Hannah congratulated. “The food tables look great.”
“Thanks,” Nick said as Charlie responded, “How did you…with…?”
He glanced at Charlie to see why he paused, but the concierge’s eyes flicked up at him from where she sat on the couch arm. He diverted his attention to respond to Hannah, “Thanks. Yeah, it’s a lot, but it’s been good so far. What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been all over. Concierge work is everywhere at once.”
“Are you enjoying it, at least?”
“I am. Having a professional DJ helps the work go by more easily.”
He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right…Are we back on?”
Charlie stood up and pushed his hands behind his back to stretch his spine. “Yeah. There are dishes to collect and wash. If you need a few more minutes, that’s okay.”
“I’m good,” he started to stand but looked around. “I could use some water, though.”
The concierge pointed to the cabinets of the kitchenette. “Room temp in the cupboards or cold in the fridge. Nick, Hannah, help yourselves.”
Charlie watched the two of them go together for refreshment, but his colleague murmured for his ears alone, “They’re grown. Come on, I’ll help you find one out.”
Charlie’s eyes flitted to Nick again, the way he gulped down water and nodded along with Hanna’s conversation. Charlie swallowed and followed out of the clubhouse. He and the concierge had done this before. They knew a system. Whoever managed to feed first would leave out a little bobber for anyone interested to bite on.
So, Charlie went about his task of walking a lap around the ballroom, collecting dishes and depositing them into the kitchen sink. He felt a ping from the concierge and placed himself next to the buffet table, as much organizing dishes as he was making himself appear approachably idle…
“Excuse me,” said a young, male voice. Charlie looked up, and on any other night, he might’ve just been perfect. Not much different to Charlie’s age, he was reasonably attractive, and smiled in a way that made Charlie’s wander over his face and shoulders. Not straight, or only flexibly so. “I was wondering if you might be thirsty?”
Perfect stood in the clubhouse with a girl. Too young to bite and too far awake to keep.
“Parched,” Charlie smiled back.
“When can we get a drink?” the man asked like this were a date instead of a transaction.
Charlie looked at the clock on the wall. “Is two hours too long of a wait?”
He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. “It’s up to you. What are you waiting for?”
For someone to leave, he didn’t say out loud. “My next break. Meet me in the garden in two hours?”
He took his turn to look at the clock and then nodded at him. “Where, exactly?”
“Somewhere private. I’ll find you.”
He nodded once and retreated to the party—to be replaced by Nick coming in through the French doors. “Who was that?”
“Just a guest.”
“What did he want?” Nick’s head swiveled back around, having lost him in the crowd.
“He had a question about what time the party ends. Are you able to take these?”
“Sure,” he said, taking the dishes in hand. “Kitchen?”
“Yeah, you’ll see the pile already in the sink.”
Nick left, and Charlie once more found a person beside him. The concierge inquired, “Will he do?”
“I think so, thank you. How’d you find him?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s the son of the one I drank.”
They exchanged amused looks and went their separate ways. In the kitchen, Charlie unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. Nick observed the lines left by Belle, no longer scabbed over but still maroon and healing. He also noticed Charlie’s forearms in general; Charlie wore long sleeves whenever they were together, so Nick appreciated the change. His mouth did run away from him, however, with, “Have you tried clipping Belle’s claws?”
Charlie said over the noise of the sink, “It’s the one thing she doesn’t let me do. I’ll leave it to the vet when she goes.”
“That’s soon,” Nick remembered, taking the bowls and plates from him and playing Tetris with the washing machine. The dishes had to be sterilized in small batches, but across two machines, they unloaded and reloaded as they cleaned up from the party.
Eventually, Nick waved his hands in the air from touching too many hot ceramics fresh out of the washer and turned the sink on for cold relief. “How do you handle all that without flinching?”
“Used to it, I guess,” Charlie dismissed. Then, he announced, “You’re about finished. All the other volunteers will have left by now.”
Nick followed Charlie out of the kitchen and through the party, which appeared to be going strong. But with the food and parking done, Nick’s duty had indeed finished. They visited the concierge desk, where Charlie pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He also asked, “Hannah, do you have a ride coming?”
“Yeah, my dad’s on his way,” she assured.
The concierge said, “Nick, would you wait outside with her? Here’s a radio in case her dad gets lost in the car park maze.”
He took the walkie-talkie with surprise in his voice but was not one to refuse a job. He supposed it made sense, after having worked with the parking team already. “Okay. sure. It’s a nice night to wait outside.”
The teenagers walked out the front door and the concierge rounded on Charlie. “You’re wilting where you stand.”
“I have a higher tolerance than that,” he countered.
“Not on your face, you don’t. It’s a party—stop looking so sullen. I’m sure there’s a delight waiting in the garden already.”
A smile lifted her expression at the spark she saw on Charlie’s face. He didn’t stick around for her to gloat about it. He was hungry, and a man’s throat on his lips was exactly what Charlie wanted.
On the other side of the hotel, Charlie sent out his resonance. He found a couple of hubs stationed in the garden: one of the barkeeps smoking, a guest scrolling their phone, and another. Charlie strode through the hedges to the latter, turning the corner and smiling at the familiar man. “Not waiting long, I hope?”
“Two hours,” he countered, but Charlie sat down with him on the bench.
The man extended his arm over the back of the bench behind him, but Charlie said, “It’s easier if you remove your tie.”
He sighed, either his manners losing to his impatience or being outside of his parents’ radius dropped his façade. He retracted his arm and undid his white bow tie, along with the button underneath it. “Better?”
“Better,” Charlie chimed, really hoping this was his first dip into vampire venom. Based on how he returned his arm to the bench, it must have been. Because once Charlie’s fangs plunged through his skin, breaking flesh and artery, that arm went limp, swinging behind the bench. It could hardly be comfortable, but for the next few seconds, he would be well beyond caring.
Charlie felt much the same. As a stuttering orgasm exhaled out of the man’s chest, a week’s drought without blood soaked with fresh, slaking relief. Charlie exhaled out of his nose, his lips sealed to the skin so he could draw out as much as he could before the skin sealed closed. Sometimes he didn’t mind lingering with his donors, but tonight was an exception. He didn’t want to be here a moment longer with someone who exercised personality flips.
The flow of blood stopped. Charlie drew back in time to see the holes finish closing, and the bruising started its metamorphosis of healing in record time…
Charlie’s resonance relaxed. It was a mistake he often made after feeding. His guard went down, so he stopped holding the muscle that kept his resonance close to his heart. Like a gossamer skirt flying out around him on a breeze, it draped over a hub of activity. A person.
Nick.
Charlie whirled around, catching a glimpse of the look on Nick’s face before he startled backwards down the path that brought him here.
Nick…didn’t know what to think. He’d seen Hannah back to the safekeeping of her parents, her father’s handshake far firmer than necessary for what Nick was to his daughter, but Nick minded his manners and excused himself back to the hotel. He considered texting his mother to come pick him up, but he wanted to see if he could squeeze another hour here with Charlie. Or maybe have Charlie give him a lift. Probably not, though, since Charlie mentioned dismantling the decorations after the party.
Charlie wasn’t in the kitchen or the workroom. He wasn’t in the clubhouse, so Nick strolled into the garden. He could have been in any of the hotel toilets, but Nick wanted a scenic route back to the hotel, since Charlie would probably be done in a toilet by then if that were the case.
Nick heard a voice. He’d known Charlie long enough to recognize the way his voice moved through the air. Charlie speaking probably meant he was with someone or on the phone, but this didn’t bother Nick. Nick had been with Charlie all evening. He felt comfortable and confident he could be by Charlie’s side for whatever the next chapter of the night was.
Until he didn’t know what to think. Until he saw Charlie at some guy’s neck and Nick became inundated with information he needed to process—
His phone was vibrating. Through a fog, Nick withdrew his phone and saw his mother’s contact page photo. He answered, “Hello?”
“Hi, darling. I’m out front. Are you ready to go?”
He frowned. “Go?”
“You said you would be finishing at this time.”
His eyes closed, the memory of his mother wanting his hotel shift information becoming clearer. “Right, um. Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way.”
He hung up and quickened his pace to reach the staff room to retrieve his coat. He didn’t see Charlie following him on silent footfalls. He didn’t see Charlie stay rooted in place with Nick’s decision to leave.