Title: Bored and Bed-bound!
Rated Adult for smutty goodness, so shoo children or I'll stake ya! Disclaimer: Don't own the characters nor making money from using them in my writing – oh that I did!
AN: Well I was supposed to be catching up on Who fic and started writing this piece for Halloween but got distracted by the Fright Night kinkmeme on LJ and this is the result – sorry! Happy Halloween!
"Gurraaagh!...What?" Peter sounded disgruntled and breathless and Charlie immediately regretted his decision of the late night phone call. He didn't want to come across too stalkerish and the egoistical, Vegas illusionist really didn't need his self-esteem boasted or the windows of his, frankly spacious and overpriced, penthouse batcave would shatter with the strain!
"You ok?" Charley mumbled.
"Oh just peachy!" came the grumbled response.
"What you doing?" he hesitated. Yes, that didn't sound trite and desperate.
"It's 12:30, the booze is flowing, sheets are Chinese silk, what do you think I'm doing? I'm having a wank so make it snappy!" he groused.
"Oh God, ah sorry. I'll just…"
"What's wrong, Charley?" Peter's voice softened.
"Nothing. Just feeling a bit…I don't know, at a loss. A bit low and bored. Can't sleep and thought I'd call, you know, just for a chat?" Charley's face flushed at his stammering and the heavy breathing that Peter was desperately trying to bring back under control. He heard the distinctive sound of sloshing liquid and a few audible gulps as the magician obviously choked down some more of that mouthwash smelling swill that must pass for alcohol in England.
"Right!" he sounded brighter and decisive. "Well, me 'earty! I'm already at half mast and this sea-man wants to cast off! I'll be no use to you until I fix this fucking hard-on so if we're talking, we're talking sex - fucking, the horizontal mamba! Off you go?" There was both challenge and humour in his gravelley, husking voice!
"Excuse me?" barked the, until recently, virginal adolescent. "You want me to what?"
"Talk dirty to me! I wanna hear filth spill from that sexy mouth of yours!" Peter noted that he could no longer hear breathing on the other end of the line and bit his lip, throwing his head back to stifle a full out guffaw! He knew he'd never get the kid to do it but oh, it was so much fun winding him up!
"Look Charley, just imagine you're talking to Amy, well maybe not Amy. How is the ungrateful bitch? Bad associations, nightmares, shrink wrap therapy, my bloody fucking Scottish arse? Women!"
Charlie smiled a little at that – the more familiar territory of Peter - the loquacious, misogynistic bastard, and couldn't help but picture him fondly on one of his tirades. He snorted in response, "She's gone all uber religious and sworn off men, thinks we're all animals. Last I heard she was caught macking with Katie Spooner in the janitor's closest! Good riddance. Leave the women to the fucking women and…"
"..The men to the fucking men? Or should that be the men to fucking men!"
Charley had quickly broken off as his brain caught up with his mouth. He was NOT gay, vaginas rocked but something seemed to happen when he was around the devilishly crude and sensual, snaking leather hipped, Peter. And really, no one got him like he did. They were both outsiders though Peter more by choice, pissing off pretty much everyone he met but there was something deeper there that allowed Charley to see through the bullshit! It wouldn't be so bad, would it? He just kept getting hung up on society's mores and what those jock assholes in school would think. But he'd faced a bloodthirsty vampire, does wonders for the self-confidence that does.
Peter chuckled at the direction the conversation had taken to lighten the Freudian slip and because he didn't want to allow himself to hope that there was any promise behind it. He liked Charley, more than he should, more than he liked anyone really, especially himself. But Peter didn't have friends, groupies and slutty one night stands, yes but proper relationships? The simple burgeoning friendship with Charley was the most complicated and complete interaction he'd had since his parents. Life was fleeting and hell yes, he had abandonment issues. He didn't want Charley to be another regret.
"So are thinking about Amy? Or who do you think about when you're, well, you know?" Charley ventured, his heart fluttering a little in tense anticipation.
"Men or women? 'Cause I used to usually think about Ginger but well…can't now."
"So who do you think about now?"
Peter didn't respond which was completely unlike him, well unless the nonresponsiveness was a symptom of overindulgence of midori.
Charley waited with bated breathe. It was so silly, of course Peter wouldn't think about him, he was just some brat kid but suddenly he knew exactly where he wanted this conversation to go and really, what's the worse that could happen? It's not like it would offend Peter or embarrass him. He'd probably just laugh at him and be teasing and lascivious until they were both laughing and had forgotten all about it.
"Do you ever think about me?" Damnit, he wanted to go for teasing, not shy and hopeful.
"Do you want me to?" was the surprisingly straight and serious reply.
"Yes, well maybe…"
Peter's heart clenched at how vulnerable he sounded and God did that plaintive voice and boyish hope, turn him on. Heat jumped and spasmed instantly through his body as hundreds of fantasies he'd fucked himself off to for weeks flashed through his mind.
"Peter?" Charley asked uncertainly.
"Are you in bed? Are you alone?" Charley sighed in relief and something more as the rumbling baritone on the other end of the line had suddenly become a liquid bass.
"Yes and yes," was all he could manage, he could barely think.
"Listen to me very carefully. I want you to get up and lock your bedroom door, just in case. I don't want us being disturbed. Then I want you to get undressed and climb back into bed. Ok?"
"Nrghh" Peter's confident and commanding tone had the blood rushing in his ears, half panic and 'what the fuck am I doing' and half wanton anticipation. Even just talking to Peter was like some thrill ride rollercoaster but he quickly did as he was told, folding his legs back under the duvet and clinging to the phone by his ear with sweaty palm.
"I'm imagining you right here Charley, standing naked at the end of my bed, all nervous and flushed. I'd come to you, reach out and trace that deepening red as it spread down your neck and chest with firm, kneading fingers. Then I'd slide my hand round the back of your neck and draw you to me, kiss you, softly first, then harder. Taste your moist, plump lips and edge them open with my teeth and tongue. I'd thread my fingers through your hair and delve into you, stroking your tongue, fleshy cheeks and tickling the roof of your mouth as we crashed together."
Charley groaned and Peter answered desperately, already clutching his black sheets.
"What do you want Charley? What do you want me to do to you?" his words like satin.
Charley lost in the images, suddenly jerked to awareness feeling abashed and strangely shy. God, Peter was good at this and they'd only just started. How could he ever satisfy him? What could he say? He tried to sound sexy and muttered a weak reply.
"You can do whatever you want to me."
"Oh God, Charley" Peter panted beautifully at the surrender but needed more.
"No, tell me. It's ok? What do you want?"
"I…I…want you to pull my head back, exposing my neck and suck on it hard…"
"Hmmm…I can feel your pulse thundering and your throat constricting as you swallow the air in hungry gasps. I can't keep my hands off you. Stroking down your sides and across your stomach, feeling the fluttering muscles twitch as I move my hand round and grabbed your ass, pulling you tight against me. I'd be so hard, rutting my hips into yours, feeling your throbbing cock and coarse hair rub and bristle against mine."
"Peter…" Charley slipped a deft hand under the covers and grabbed his hard on, stroking firmly, just a couple of times, not to much, not yet. "I'd push you back onto your oversized bed and climb on top of you, straddling you and twisting my hips against yours."
"Yes, Charley. Don't stop." He moaned, ghosting his long fingers over his body, imagining them to be the slender, young hands of Charley.
"I'd crouch over you, bracing myself so I could kiss you again."
"Fuck, I love your mouth Charley. I could get lost in that mouth but I wouldn't let you distract me, you cocky bastard. I'd flip us over and force your wrists above your head so I could touch you, undisturbed. I'd grab your dick and you'd arch back, writhing and breathing heavily as I worked you. I know what I'm doing Charley; I could take you right to the edge and leave you hanging there. I could make you fucking scream and beg and you would, Charley, I promise you would."
Peter finally caressed his cock as Charley whimpered incoherently on the line.
"Would you like me to fuck you, Charley? You think you could take me? I'm rather impressive even if I do say so myself," he chuckled.
"Fuck, yes. I don't care. I want you. I want to feel you inside of me." Peter's growl was almost predatory. "Peter please, I can't…" Peter could hear the slap of hand on flesh, getting quicker and more desperate and hearing him so out of control, undid any he had left, his arousal rocketing as he gritted his teeth and buried his head in the pillow. He put the phone on speaker and left it by his head as he rolled onto his side and reached round, teasing his puckered hole.
"Can you feel me, Charley? Feel me massage that gorgeous ass and slick a finger between your cheeks, testing carefully, feeling your muscles give way to me? I'd crook my finger just so and listen to you keen as I stroked that sweet spot, pleasure thrumming through you. Oh fuck, I need to fuck you. You'd be so gloriously tight. I'd have to go slowly, holding you steady as you writhed at the intrusion but it would feel so good. Soon you'd be pushing back, needing me to rock into you. Then I'd be pounding into you, so hard, so deep…" He finger fucked himself faster and faster and tugged on his cock, listening to the divine sounds ripped from Charley's throat.
"Peter, I'm going to…"
Together they arched into their release, Peter moaning loudly and Charley thrashing around trying to keep quiet, mindful that his mum would be asleep next door.
Strangely as Charley lay panting and sated on the bed he didn't feel embarrassed or awkward; in fact he started to laugh, really laugh – belly laughs mingled with groans at protesting muscles.
"Charley, want the…?" Peter slurred then started to chuckle himself. Of all the strange situations the kid had been in recently this was probably the most bizarre for him and didn't that make Peter feel special – take that, fucking vampire hordes of hell! Ha!
"Charley?" A female voice called out.
"Shit! Sorry gotta go!"
That only made Peter laugh harder as a panicked Charley hung up on him. Finally the hysterics subsided and Peter Vincent lay limply on his vast, memory foam mattress, the black, Chinese silk sheets reflecting the red hues of light pollution from the Vegas strip and a warmth and contentment suffused his body as he finally drifted off into a nightmareless sleep.