Scott woke with a start, his heart pounding and his lungs burning as he gasped for air. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, the dream he’d been having still so vivid and clear in his mind that he couldn’t separate it from reality at first.
The dream about Charlie.
The sex dream about Charlie.
He blinked in the darkness, painfully aware that his cock was hard between his legs.
Hard because in his mind, Charlie had been on top of him, stripping both of their clothes off methodically, reaching down to touch…
Before Scott made a conscious decision about how to react, he was already reaching down, wrapping his fingers around his cock. It was thick and heavy in his hand, precome gathering at the head.
Some other time, he might’ve thought about what he was doing. Paused to consider before diving into a fantasy about another man. But not now. He felt as though he was about to burst if he didn’t get off, his whole body wound tight.
He wanted to kiss Charlie again. He wanted so much more than that. In this moment, he wanted Charlie with him, touching him, replacing Scott’s fingers with his own and tugging hard and fast on his cock, moaning eagerly into his ear.
Scott’s stomach bottomed out at the mental image. He gripped his cock tighter, thumbing the head to spread precome down the shaft, knowing that he wasn’t about to go slow or gentle.
He didn’t have time to think about what it meant that he’d been dreaming about Charlie. All he could do was close his eyes and try to fall back into it, follow it through so he could finish.
Charlie was on top of him, his hard cock pressing against Scott’s belly, his lips against Scott’s ear, kissing and teasing, whispering about how hot he was, about how he was going to love this.
Everything about him was intensely masculine, from the half-remembered scent of his aftershave down. And Scott didn’t care. Not right now. It was so easy to imagine Charlie with him, hard for him, needy and eager and wrapping his fingers around Scott’s cock, sitting back and watching him get off on it.
“Charlie,” Scott gasped, his face getting hot the moment he said it out loud. He wasn’t supposed to want this.
It that was true, why was there so much heat in his belly, so much tension in his balls? He’d woken up hard and ready to come, thinking about Charlie’s mouth and his hands and his very, very male body.
Scott bit down on his lip, focusing on what he knew about Charlie. How strong his hands were, how soft his lips were. The weight of him against Scott’s shoulder, how he felt against his chest, how hot he was, searing, like a personal furnace walking around on two legs.
Scott’s hips jerked into his hand without him meaning them to. He groaned lowly at the need to come, imagining Charlie crawling down his body, kissing his way down Scott’s chest and belly until he came to the head of his cock.
Charlie’s lips were so soft, and Scott had no doubt that he’d know what he was doing. Everything about him screamed that he’d be good in bed, generous and confident and more than able to keep up with even the most enthusiastic partner.
Scott had no idea why he knew that, or why he thought it, or what it meant that he really, really wanted to put that theory to the test, but right now, he did. He cried out as he imagined Charlie’s lips sealing around the head of his cock, his tongue swirling around, lapping precome away, making Scott want to thrust into the warmth of his mouth.
A whimper escaped Scott’s throat as he fought to fill his lungs, his balls tight and his chest heaving. He rolled onto his back, spreading his legs wide, screwing his eyes shut as he imagined Charlie lower, exploring him, pressing the pad of his thumb against the sensitive spot behind Scott’s balls.
Tears of frustration welled up in Scott’s eyes, his need to come so intense that he couldn’t bear to hold back anymore. An embarrassingly loud, heartfelt moan echoed through the room as he jerked his cock harder and faster, the sensitive skin catching against his palm.
If anything, Scott’s confusion made it hotter to imagine this. It felt forbidden, like something he couldn’t have, something he shouldn’t want. But Charlie made it all okay. He wanted Scott as much as Scott wanted him, he loved sucking his cock, he was hot and real and so, so beautiful in Scott’s mind.
The familiar tingle in the base of his spine told Scott he was about to come, his mind still racing at the thought of Charlie between his legs, touching him everywhere, not afraid or hesitant about anything. Everything felt so good, the way Scott knew it could, the way he’d had fleeting glimpses of with other partners.
His hips arched high off the bed as his orgasm hit, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he came all over his belly, half a dozen pulses of pleasure wringing him out, making his stomach clench with the force of it. It seemed to stretch out forever, the image of Charlie in his mind grinning at him as he came, pleased with himself.
That was so hot. The thought of Charlie making him come seared into his mind, so deep that he knew he’d never quite forget it.
He collapsed back onto the bed, panting harshly as the aftershocks rippled through him, letting his oversensitive cock rest against his thigh as it softened.
Once Scott caught his breath, he glanced over at the clock. Five-thirty. Too early to get up, which was just as well. He needed a nap after that. He was still seeing stars.
That had done absolutely nothing to clear up his confusion about Charlie.
Scott wasn’t sure whether it explained kissing him twice, or whether kissing him twice explained it.
Either way, there was definitely more going on than accidentally falling onto Charlie’s lips.
Twice.
Scott should probably have realized that before now.
It was way too early in the morning for an existential crisis. Those were supposed to happen no earlier than lunch time, and ideally not until midnight or so.
Scott didn’t want to think about this. He wanted to be sure of himself, and not have as-yet unqualified feelings about another man.
Not Charlie, anyway. He liked Charlie. Charlie was his friend. He’d already come close to screwing their relationship up twice, and he didn’t need any further complications.
Scott remembered Charlie mentioning that he wanted people to be able to come to him with questions. That almost seemed like a good idea, except that the questions were extremely specific and would probably make Charlie uncomfortable.
Hell, they’d probably make both of them uncomfortable.
Scott sighed heavily, rolling over and pulling the blankets with him. He needed to clean up, but he couldn’t summon the energy to do that just yet.
Ignoring this wasn’t going to make it go away, just like ignoring the mess drying on his stomach would only mean he had a harder, grosser time cleaning it up later, but right now, Scott didn’t have any idea where to start.
Did he have a thing for Charlie? That seemed like the simplest explanation, but it flew in the face of everything he knew about himself.
Or at least, everything he’d known about himself up until right now.
Scott knew people changed. He knew that sexuality was fluid, in principle. He just didn’t think his was fluid.
Not until right this minute, anyway.
All of this was leaving him with a lot more questions than answers, and he really needed to have more answers than questions. It suddenly seemed urgent to understand, as though his chance to figure all of this out was slipping through his fingers.
It could wait a few hours, he told himself. Just long enough to sleep on the thought, just long enough to approach it with a clear head.
Then, he probably needed to come up with a way to approach Charlie.
Just the thought of that was enough to make his stomach clench with nerves.
But no amount of fear changed the fact that something was going on, and it’d only come back to bite him in the ass if he didn’t deal with it.