by Ashley John
“Here you go guys,” Sarah said as she set two plates of burger and fries down on the table, “don't tell anyone about this.”
She hurried off back to the counter and they busied themselves with tucking into the mountain of food. Oliver could tell the food was a welcome distraction for Charlie, but he wanted to know so much more about the mystery in front of him.
“This girlfriend of yours,” Oliver started, “is it serious?”
Charlie looked up from his food and glared at Oliver, knowing that he'd pressed a button.
“What's it got to do with you?” Charlie shot back.
“I'm just interested,” Oliver lied.
He really wanted to size up his competition.
“Are you really though?” Charlie raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“Let's talk about something else then,” Oliver shrugged, taking a bite into his burger.
He didn't care what they talked about, as long as they were talking. The more they talked, the quicker Oliver could figure Charlie out.
“It was,” Charlie sighed, pushing his fries around his plate with his fork, “but since I left, I don't know.”
“Are you bothered?” Oliver asked.
“What do you mean? Of course I am!”
“I just mean, if you didn't love her, then just move on,” Oliver shrugged.
“When did I say I didn't love her?” Charlie narrowed his eyes.
“Because you left her,” Oliver said, “you moved across the country.”
“I didn't have any choice.”
Oliver placed the burger back on his plate. He knew he was pushing Charlie, but he didn't seem to be able to stop himself.
“Did you sleep with her?” Oliver asked casually.
The uncomfortable look returned to Charlie's face. This boy is so sexually frustrated.
“None of your business,” Charlie mumbled.
Oliver knew that was a no.
“Are you a virgin Charlie?” Oliver laughed.
Just from the look on Charlie's face Oliver knew he'd hit the jackpot. He couldn't explain why, but finding out that Charlie was a virgin made him even more desirable. The lust deep inside Oliver intensified and grew like a wild and hungry beast.
Virgins were Oliver's secret desire. For Oliver, virginity was a sickness and he had the cure.
“Stop with the fucking questions!” Charlie snapped.
“Why does talking about sex make you feel so weird?” Oliver said quietly, leaning in towards Charlie across the table.
Charlie's eyes darted around the table as if looking for an escape, but Oliver wasn't going to let him get away.
“I just don't like talking about it, okay?” Charlie said.
I bet you'd love having it though.
“You're missing out,” Oliver smiled naughtily.
As he watched Charlie narrow on him and his lips snarl, Oliver knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew he was going to get it.
You're going to give me your virginity Charlie.
***
Does he actually think I'm going to let him sleep with me?
“Missing out on what?” Charlie cried.
“Me,” Oliver smiled
“It's never going to happen,” Charlie whispered, shoving fries into his mouth, “so just stop. I'm not into guys. I'm not into you. I'm not into any of that crap.”
When a seductive smile spread across Oliver's face, Charlie couldn't believe that the more he pushed him away, the harder he seemed to try.
“What about what happened in the cubicle?” Oliver said softly.
“What about it? I pushed you away when you tried it on,” Charlie said.
The truth was, he couldn't explain what had happened in the cubicle. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since. The feeling it had given him deep down inside was like something he'd never experienced before.
“It didn't really happen like that though, did it?” Oliver laughed sarcastically, “You had a fucking hard on over me. A quite impressive cock if I do say so.”
Charlie tried not to think about Oliver's cock, but the more he tried, the more he saw it right in front of his eyes. He glanced over to his mother who was leaning across the counter smiling at a rather large bald man in a shirt with sleeves that were rolled up his forearms to reveal tattoo covered skin.
“So? So what? I get boners all the time,” Charlie shrugged, “It doesn't mean anything.”
As the words left his lips, he knew they sounded even feebler out loud than they did in his head. Oliver had him cornered and he didn't know how to explain his way out of it.
The explanation wasn't simple.
“There's nothing wrong with it. Its human nature,” Oliver said, “we all just want to fuck each other. Society invented sexuality. It's an instinct. It's a desire.”
“I've told you, I'm not about that,” Charlie snapped again with growing frustration.
“You could be,” Oliver smiled, “how do you know unless you do it?”
“If I do it, it'll be with a girl,” Charlie said firmly.
He had wanted to have sex with Melissa, that was true. Whenever they fooled around, he'd get so horny and he'd want to fuck her, but she'd always say she wasn't ready. Another guy had never crossed his mind before.
“Why limit yourself?” Oliver laughed, “it’s so old school.”
“And I guess you're modern? Fucking anything with a pulse?” Charlie said smugly.
“Not anything,” Oliver said, taking another bite of his burger, “I'm very select about who I fuck.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“See that guy at the diner counter?” Oliver pointed to the meathead still talking to his mother, “He wanted me.”
Charlie tried to stop himself from choking on his fries with laughter.
“Oh whatever,” Charlie scoffed through a full mouth.
“That's Finley Mathews. He's one of the richest men in Surf Bay. He owns night clubs and a few other businesses and he wanted to fuck me,” Oliver folded his arms and lent back in his chair.
Observing the man who was whispering with his mother, he wondered if Oliver's story could be true. He watched as his mother twirled her hair around her finger and laughed loudly at everything he was saying. He didn't seem to be reacting the same way to her.
“Bullshit.”
“He tried everything. We dated for a few weeks and he pulled out all the stops but I never let him in.”
“Why not?”
Charlie couldn't believe he was asking it, but curiosity had taken over.
“He's not my type. I prefer to be the one who's in control.”
“Go and find someone you can control then if you're such a control freak,” Charlie whispered across the table, not able to make eye contact.
“I already have,” he whispered back.
“Go and find someone else,” Charlie said.
“I can't,” Oliver smiled, “I want you, and I'm going to have you.”
“What makes you so sure?” Charlie growled, leaning across the table.
“Because you're still here,” he whispered back softly, “any other guy would have just left.”
Charlie sat back in his chair, feeling trumped. He had no comeback or reasoning to respond to Oliver. Was he right? Should he have just left when Oliver started to talk about sex?
“Whatever,” Charlie mumbled feebly, knowing that Oliver was relishing how lost for words he was.
He looked to his mother still talking to Finley, but he knew Oliver was right. There was something compelling him to stay, even if he did want to rip Oliver's head off. There was something about him that was making him think. Something that was making him think things he'd never thought before.
Why can't I stop seeing his cock?
“I'll leave then,” Charlie said quietly, staring at his plate of half eaten food.
“But you won't,” Oliver smirked and tilted his head to the side, staring over to Finley, “because you know you want me.”
“Fuck you,” Charlie whispered back, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.
Not looking back, he stormed out of the diner and back to the Surf Club, trying not to make eye contact with the people who were giving him strange looks for marching through the streets in a wetsuit. He could feel Oliver silently behind him the whole way back, but even when he burst into the Surf Club, much to Porter's surprise, he didn't turn around to look at him, which he was quite proud of.
The temptation to look at Oliver was so strong, but he resisted.
I'll show him who's in control.
The rest of the day went by easier than Charlie had expected. He was thankful for the southern tourists with the large waistlines who wanted to learn to surf, occupying both Oliver and Porter for most of the day, leaving Charlie to hold down the fort in the shack.
Just keep ignoring him. The little shit will get bored eventually.
Chapter 6
“Charlie! Come and look! Aunt Evelyn's made pancakes,” Poppy cried in Charlie's face, shaking his shoulders and ripping the covers back
“Who needs an alarm clock when you have a little sister,” Charlie croaked, pushing his hair from his eyes.
Shaking the last of his dream from his mind, Charlie rubbed his eyes and shot up in bed, hitting his head on the bunk above.
“Hurry!” she cried, yanking impatiently on his arm.
“I'm coming Poppy,” Charlie grumbled.
For a moment, he sat there and stared at his sister with his eyes half closed until he remembered that he needed to go to work and spend the day with Oliver.
Groaning, he dropped back into his pillow, pulling the covers over his head hoping it was all a bad dream.
“Come on Charlie!” Poppy cried, yanking on her brother's arm harder than Charlie thought her tiny body could, “Aunt Evelyn will be sad if you don't come down.”
“Okay!” Charlie ripped the cover from his face and slid out of the bed, “I'm coming!”
As Charlie headed to the kitchen, the smell of fresh pancakes filled his nostrils and his stomach gurgled loudly. It had been a while since he'd woken up to a fresh breakfast. It was usually a case of whatever he could find in the backs of the cupboards.
“Morning sweetheart,” Charlie's mother was already sat the table.
Grunting back in acknowledgment, he dropped into the chair next to her.
“Looking forward to your second day at work?” Evelyn smiled, popping a pile of hot pancakes onto a floral plate that was set in front of him.
“Yeah,” Charlie lied unenthusiastically.
“Isn't it great that you get to work with Oliver?” Evelyn smiled as she set the frying pan back on the stove to make more pancakes, “He's such a lovely boy.”
As she spoke, Charlie found himself staring miserably into the back of her head. He didn't think he could ever describe Oliver as 'lovely'.
“He's so sweet,” Charlie's mother joined in, “I'm so glad you're making friends already.”
“We're not friends,” Charlie shot back.
“You're not? You seemed to get on yesterday when you came into the diner,” she said softly, raising her eyebrows in confusion.
That's because you were too busy flirting with guys who clearly aren't interested. Charlie wanted to tell his mother how much of a sexual deviant Oliver was, but he thought it would be wise not to worry her. If she thought he was settling in, that was enough for Charlie.
“I mean, we're not friends quite yet,” Charlie corrected himself, smiling through the hate.
“I like him too,” Poppy chipped in.
Charlie glared at his sister out of the corner of his eye. As he looked around at Oliver's fanclub, he wondered if he was the first person Oliver had ever come across that didn't instantly fall at his feet.
A loud knock at the door tore Charlie from his thoughts. Aunt Evelyn spun around with her hands and apron covered in flour, looking desperately at Charlie.
“Can you answer that sweetie?” she cooed, “It's probably just Mr. Jenkins from next door dropping off my paper.”
Charlie could have handled Mr. Jenkins dropping off the paper. He could have handled how the old man who lived next door to Evelyn liked to engross anybody in conversation about the most boring subjects. Charlie would have loved to see Mr. Jenkins, instead of who was on the other side of the door.
***
“Good morning Charlie,” Oliver smiled as Charlie opened the door.
He held out the coffee he'd bought for Charlie. He wasn't sure what Charlie liked, but he thought a cappuccino with a couple of sugars seemed like a safe apology coffee.
“What are you doing here?” Charlie snapped coldly, staring down at the black coffee cup, but not accepting it.
Oliver knew exactly why he was there, but he didn't want Charlie to know why. He knew that he overstepped the line in the diner, and his interrogation and flirting were only pushing Charlie further away. It was only when Oliver went to bed that he realized that he was going about everything the wrong way.
He realized that if he really wanted Charlie, he was going to have to pace himself, and try things a little differently than he was used to. People usually fell into touch when he marked them. Charlie didn't, but it only made the chase so much more fun.
This is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.
“I thought I'd get you a coffee,” Oliver smiled, holding it out further.
“Why?” Charlie raised an eyebrow and suspiciously looked at the coffee as if it was a cup of poison.
“Because coffee is nice?” Oliver laughed, “Take it will you, it's burning my hands.”
Much to Oliver's delight, Charlie gripped the coffee and raised it to his lips and slurped the hot liquid. When his face didn't twist in disgust, he knew that he'd guessed just right.
“Thanks, I guess,” Charlie said, lowering the cup from his mouth.
“I thought we could walk to work together,” Oliver suggested, taking a sip of his own.
Lowering his eyes from Charlie, he held his breath as he waited for the reply.
C'mon Charlie boy, take the bait.
“I'm not ready yet,” Charlie said, glancing at the watch on his wrist, “and it's only 9. We don't start for another hour.”
“I could come in and wait while you get ready?” Oliver said quietly.
Oliver was sure that this was going to be too far, but when Charlie stepped to the side to let him in, he suppressed the laughter that was bubbling up.
If all it took was a cup of coffee, I would have bought you one sooner.
“Let me just go and get dressed,” Charlie muttered, setting the cup of coffee on a small table next to an ancient looking and borderline antique pink telephone.
He didn't want to say anything, but seeing Charlie fresh from bed was turning Oliver on more than any time he'd ever seen him. With his hair slightly messed up, he looked like Oliver had just had his way with him.
“Sure thing,” Oliver smiled, resisting the urge to say something flirty and suggestive.
Play the game.
They held each other’s stare for a moment, before Charlie tore away and headed up the steep staircase. Oliver watched as his cheeks bounced nicely under his pajama bottoms, making Oliver take a deep breath as he thought about how perfect it looked. Setting his own coffee down next to Charlie's, he quickly hurried up the staircase, avoiding passing the kitchen door.
“Nice room,” Oliver said, heading into Charlie's bedroom, just as he was pulling a fresh, green t-shirt over his head.
“Fucking hell Oliver,” Charlie cried, quickly yanking the t-shirt past his belly button.
Oliver's eyes lingered where he'd seen the faint trail of hair on Charlie's belly that led down into his pajama pants.
“I've always wondered what it looked like up here,” Oliver said, ignoring Charlie and glancing around the dated bedroom, “It's very...sweet.”
“Don't lie,” Charlie laughed, “It's like stepping back in time.”
Charlie's laughter caused a twinge in Oliver's stomach.
“No, it's different,” Oliver said, sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed, “it's vintage.”
Compared to Oliver's house, it was like an ancient museum. His parents seemed to only buy things if they were chrome and expensive.
“Do you mind waiting outside? I need to get changed,” Charlie said, pulling a fresh pair of white briefs from a drawer under the window.
Staring at the briefs, Oliver held his breath for a moment, sure that Charlie was trying to tease him.
“I've already seen it all, remember?” Oliver said coolly.
When Charlie ignored the flirtation and faced towards the window and just dropped his baggy pajama bottoms to the ground, Oliver nearly choked on his own tongue. He quickly pulled his white and tight briefs on, but in the split second that Oliver stared as his pert cheeks, he resisted the urge to reach and touch them.
In the daylight, he'd noticed a faint layer of blonde fuzz covering them that he hadn't spotted in the dim cubicle light.
“I was hoping we could start again,” Oliver said as he yanked at his bulge through his pocket still staring at the tight, tight underwear, “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You could say that,” Charlie said, still facing away as he pulled his dark denim shorts over his bubble rear.
“I was hoping we could be friends,” Oliver smiled, “no funny business.”
Even as he was saying it, he was imagining tearing away the denim and the white briefs. Closing his eyes slowly, he tried to rid the cravings from his mind.
Charlie turned around as he zipped up the front of his shorts and Oliver knew he was making sure he couldn't see a thing.
“Friends?” Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“Yeah, friends,” Oliver smiled, “I'm sure we have more in common than we think.”
He could almost hear the cogs in Charlie's brain turning as he tried to figure out what Oliver's intentions were. Oliver flashed his most innocent smile, even if he was imagining running his hands down Charlie's back and sliding them into his shorts.
