Trials, Temptation and Triumph - Ch 12.1 (Charlie/Shark, NC-17)
In which Rory starts having nightmares.
For introduction and warnings, go here
For a summary up to the end of TTT Ch 11 go here
Part 12 -- Redirection
12.1 Portents and Protests
Tuesday 3rd August 2004, 4 am
Rory woke up suddenly, his heart racing and his chest heaving. The images were fading, but he still felt the residue of the terror he had felt while caught up in the nightmare. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, which was damp with sweat.
Beside him, Charlie stirred. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep."
Charlie sat up and turned to look at him. "You don't get nightmares. What was it about?"
Rory tried to make sense of the vague images that skittered around the fringes of his consciousness. "Not sure. It was all very strange." He leaned into Charlie and let himself be eased back down onto the bed, welcoming the feel of Charlie's arms around him, strong and secure, and never mind that it was August and too warm for snuggling.
"You were in a plane, and there was an explosion, and smoke, and a lot of screaming," he murmured.
"Did the plane crash?"
"I don't know, I couldn't tell. And then it went really weird."
"Dreams are always weird."
"Yeah, but this one ... I don't know, there was just something about it that spooked me."
"Must have taken a lot to spook you, love," Charlie tried to soothe him, stroking his back and nuzzling into his cheek.
Privately, Rory thought that it didn't take much to spook him at all. The merest suggestion that Charlie might leave -- or be taken away from him -- was enough to scare him witless. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recall what he'd seen in his mind. "There was some sort of black smoke, chasing people around. Everyone was terrified." He shook his head. Whatever else there might have been it was all gone now. "I can't remember any more."
"Evil smoke monsters, eh? Maybe I shouldn't let you read so much science fiction before you go to sleep."
"I don't think I've ever read a book that was as strange as that dream." He frowned. "It all seemed so real, though."
"It always does. I had a nightmare once where I was seduced by Britney Spears. Frightening. I woke up all sweaty and anxious."
Rory laughed -- trust Charlie to find a way to make him feel better. He raised an eyebrow and looked knowingly at him. "Most guys wouldn't class that as a nightmare, you know."
"I know." He sounded very smug. "But they don't have you."
"You'd take me over Britney Spears?"
Charlie giggled. "She'd get squashed if I did that. Not to mention jealous. But yes."
"That's good. I'm glad to know that I don't have to fight her for your affections."
Rory settled his head on Charlie's shoulder and wriggled around until the rest of him was comfortable. He could feel Charlie's hand rubbing small circles over his shoulders, very soothing, and he started to relax. "I hate nightmares," he muttered under his breath.
"No more nightmares," Charlie whispered confidently. "Not tonight. I won't allow it." He kissed Rory's forehead.
Rory smiled. It was absurd to think that Charlie could control his dreams, but he felt a little safer, nonetheless. He drifted off to sleep again, safe and secure in his lover's embrace.
~~~~~
He woke at seven, when the alarm went off, feeling better but not completely rested. There was a faint sense of pressure in his chest and he wondered if he had indigestion -- the pork pie they'd had for dinner the previous night had been pretty heavy. It had probably caused the nightmare, too, now that he thought about it. Well, they wouldn't get that brand again.
He drank the coffee that Charlie made him, grateful for the caffeine boost, then showered and dressed. He hoped he felt better soon: he had karate that evening and didn't want to miss it.
The feeling in his chest faded after a couple of hours, but a vague sense of unease hung over him for the rest of the day. Had he missed something important at work? He questioned Chris and Ken and went through the work accounts carefully, but found nothing untoward. Business was good, on both sides -- he hadn't fired anyone recently, and nor had he had to lean on any of his loans clients. There had been no follow-up from the London police about Tuomi, either, so why on earth did he have this feeling that the world was about to collapse?
He found out why when he got home.
"Hi love," Charlie greeted him with a hug and a kiss. "Good day?"
"So-so." He took a can of beer out of the fridge and popped the top. "How was yours?"
"I talked to Pat earlier, and told him about the phone call yesterday."
Rory froze for a second. "Why? I thought you said you didn't want the band to re-form."
"I know, I know ... but Pat's my oldest friend. He deserved to be told about the offer. I want to be sure I made the right decision."
"You did."
"Yeah, well ..." Charlie's voice trailed off.
"What?" asked Rory, suspicion rising in his mind.
"Well, Pat said he thought Sinjin might be interested -- his solo albums have been a bit slow to sell, and his film work hasn't caught on as much as he hoped. He's going to ring him and see what he says."
"What?"
"Look, he's just going to talk to him."
"Sinjin won't want to do it."
"Well, maybe, maybe not. But Pat's right, you know, I don't have the right to make the decision for the band. We should all be involved."
With a sinking feeling, Rory knew what was coming next. The fact that Charlie knew he was on dicey ground was evident from his tone of voice. He waited for it.
"And Pat thinks I should ring Liam."
There.
The very thought of seeing Liam again was enough to raise his blood pressure. That niggling feeling in his chest was back, too. He said nothing for the moment but went over to the drinks tray and poured himself a glass of whisky. It burned his throat going down, but seemed to ease the discomfort, and he poured himself another.
"Rory?"
"What?"
"Why don't you say something?"
"What do you want me to say?"
That stumped Charlie for a second. "I don't know, really."
They looked at each other for a few seconds. Rory could see that Charlie was unhappy, but this wasn't something that Rory could fix. He felt as if they were teetering on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move by either of them would send them both tumbling to their deaths. He desperately wanted to give Charlie an ultimatum: to force him to choose between him and the band; but one of the things that the therapist had hammered into his head was that an ultimatum only made things worse, not better, and he had the sense to see that forcing Charlie to choose right now wasn't wise. Charlie was confused, muddled and distressed. He didn't know the right thing to do, and Rory's task was not to confuse him further but to help him to make a decision -- and then accept that decision.
Well, that was the theory anyway. Rory still had doubts that he would be able to accept any decision that took Charlie back into Liam's orbit.
He drained his glass, and with a sigh, put it down on the table. He could feel the effects of the whisky now, but while the tension in his chest had eased he didn't want to be drunk. Not this evening, not when he had to come up with logical and reasonable arguments why Charlie should not phone Liam. He had to keep a clear head so that he could keep Charlie safe.
"What are we having for tea?"
"Cold meat and salad. I found some new potatoes too, they won't take long."
Well, it wasn't one of Rory's favourite meals, but it was too hot for Thai or Indian, and he had karate that evening anyway, so he nodded and let it pass. Charlie went into the kitchen and started preparing the meal, while Rory went upstairs and changed out of his suit.
They said little during the meal, and the silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but Rory still had the feeling that anything he said would be wrong, and he was too tired to argue. He just wanted things to go back to what they had been, with Charlie home and safe, and nowhere near Liam or Sinjin. He had never trusted either of them much anyway, and especially not after he'd found out how Sinjin had dragged Liam and Charlie into heroin addiction after him. Alcohol was bad enough -- and he was perfectly aware of the irony in that statement, thank you -- but he could cope with Charlie drunk. He couldn't cope with Charlie addicted again, not after all they'd been through, and he had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that if Charlie went on tour with the band again he would be an addict within the month. Rory wouldn't allow that. He couldn't allow that.
He got up from the table and went upstairs to get his karate gear. Charlie was standing by the front door as he came down, bag in hand.
"Can we talk about this later?" Charlie asked.
"What's the point?" Charlie looked hurt, and Rory elaborated. "Charlie, you know what I feel about this. I don't know how you feel. I don't even think you know yourself what you feel."
Charlie shrugged, but said nothing more. Rory opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him with a click.
~~~~~
When he got back from karate, Charlie was in bed, ostensibly asleep. Rory suspected he was awake, but didn't press the point. He undressed, cleaned his teeth, and got into bed. Sleep eluded him, though, and he tortured himself with visions of Charlie drunk; Charlie addicted; Charlie seduced by fans; Charlie bullied by Liam; Charlie falling apart in some foreign country with no Rory there to help him.
How the hell was he going to stop Charlie from going back to the band?
Wednesday 4th August
The next day seemed to pass a little more quickly, though he was still uneasy. The indigestion had not returned, which was a relief -- perhaps he ought to eat a bit less in the evenings, at least while the hot weather lasted.
This time when he arrived home, Charlie was in the kitchen washing strawberries. Somehow that seemed to reassure him.
"Hello, love," Charlie greeted him with a smile. "I saw these at the supermarket, I thought you might like them."
"I love strawberries," he said, taking one from the bowl. "Mmm, delicious."
Charlie slapped his hand away but smiled. "You'll spoil your tea."
"Never. How was your day?"
"Not bad. I spoke to Pat again."
Rory stilled, waiting for Charlie to continue.
"He said that he's still waiting for Sinjin to get back to him. I thought ... well, there isn't much point in calling Liam before we know if Sinjin's interested."
Relieved, Rory nodded. "True." And if luck went his way, Sinjin would scoff at the deal and they would be safe.
"I think Pat's starting to wonder if it might be a good idea."
"Why?"
"Well, I know he's still worried about providing for the family. The advertising work isn't as steady as he'd hoped."
"He's better off than a lot of people."
"I know, but he told me that Mel's still going to have to go back to work shortly."
"And lots of families have two working parents."
"Yeah, but a record deal would mean she didn't have to work. He's starting to look at the advantages. Steady income, Mel at home, baby all secure."
"He might be looking at it that way, but Sinjin's moved on, and as for Liam ..." Rory didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. There had been no direct contact from Liam in the past eighteen months, but they got regular updates from Meg. Liam had settled in to his new life in Sydney, working for his father-in-law, and Karen was expecting their second child at the end of October. Rory thought that the chance of getting Liam to give up his high-paying executive job to go on the road again was close to zero ... but not exactly zero, and that tiny chance worried him far more than it should have done.
"Pat thinks that if Sinjin comes on board Liam will too."
"Do you?"
Charlie shrugged. He finished the strawberries and rinsed his hands, drying them on a convenient tea-towel and turning back to face Rory.
"The band is dead, Charlie."
"We could re-form."
"Fuck that." Rory paused and then looked closely at Charlie. "Do you really want to?"
"No." Charlie thought about that some more. "Maybe. I don't know. Not really."
"Liam won't, for sure."
"I don't know. And I'm not really sure that Sinjin would either."
"He would if the money were good enough. But it would have to be bloody good."
"It might be bloody good, for all we know."
"And it's more likely to be bloody awful." Rory snorted. "They're not a charity. They want to make money off you. Whatever they offer you, they'll want to be making four or five times that amount themselves."
"Not necessarily. We just have to make sure that we get the contract reviewed by a solicitor before we sign, like we did last time."
"Yeah, and that turned out really well, didn't it."
"Well, the money was OK, it was just that the company dropped us."
"And did you ever think that the amount of money they were forced to pay you by contract might be one of the reasons DriveShaft was the first band to be dropped by FYT? And that it might be the reason Rhythm Records sold out in the first place?"
Charlie stopped and stared at him. It was clear that he had never thought about things in that light before. "Do you really think that's what happened?"
"No one knows for sure. But I know Paul Burkholdt was under a lot of pressure that last year with Rhythm. And they were running seriously short of money -- FYT picked them up for a song."
"Oh." Charlie looked troubled. "So we caused it ourselves, then?"
"I don't know."
"What do you think?"
"Seriously? I think it was a lot of things. You were over-exposed -- not that anyone could have stopped that. You didn't have time to build up a reserve of songs -- the second album cleaned you out completely, and once you started touring, you didn't have any time off so you could write. The drugs ... well, I suppose they contributed, too. But I think you'd probably have folded after the third album anyway."
Charlie bit his lip, looking very troubled. "I was going to come out after the third album. I remember telling them that."
Rory put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I didn't mean that, Charlie. I don't think that would have made any difference at all."
"But they might have thought it would."
"Maybe. But that's all in the past now, we can't change it, we can't second-guess it. It happened and we move on."
Charlie moved in close and put his arms around Rory's waist. "I just want to be successful. I know I can write, I want to have the chance to show them I can do it."
"You will, love, I know you will." Rory's his arms came up to hold Charlie in a warm and protective embrace.
"I just ... I can't help wondering if this is the only chance I'll get."
"It won't be."
"I know you keep saying that, but I'm just not sure."
"I'm sorry," Rory said again. "I wish he'd made an offer for you, not the band."
"I do, too."
Charlie nuzzled him and that led to a soft, slow kiss. Rory could tell that Charlie wanted comfort and reassurance more than anything, and made sure that he kept things gentle and non-demanding for the moment. He let his hands roam over Charlie's body -- his trim waist, his firm shoulders and his nicely-rounded and very enticing arse -- letting himself feel, letting himself enjoy the experience of kissing Charlie as an end in itself and not merely the prelude to a quick fuck.
Charlie tasted faintly of strawberries, and Rory smiled to himself. Maybe they could take dessert upstairs to the bedroom -- the thought of rolling fresh strawberries over Charlie's skin and then licking up the juice was enticing, to say the least. They hadn't really played with food for a long time -- in fact, their lovemaking had become a bit too predictable lately. It was time they did something unusual; something to prolong the pleasure for both of them.
He kissed Charlie's cheek; his jaw; his ear; then moved down slowly and tantalisingly, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of his lover's neck. Charlie arched up and thrust his hips forward, but Rory was in no hurry -- not yet, anyway -- and continued his slow exploration of skin while holding Charlie still. He manoeuvred them both so that Charlie was leaning against the kitchen cupboards, and tilted Charlie's head so that he could slide his tongue under the neck of the T-shirt. Charlie shivered and gasped, and Rory felt that familiar thrill of power, knowing that he could elicit anything he wanted from Charlie just by touching him the right way at the right time.
Another deep, slow kiss followed that, and now Charlie was trying to force the pace, trying to get his hand between them. Rory broke off for a moment and pulled Charlie's hand clear. "Not yet, I want this to be slow."
Charlie's eyes widened. He swallowed and nodded slightly, and brought both hands up to cradle Rory's head as the kissing resumed. Rory felt soft fingers sunning through his hair and over his neck, and shivered in turn. Yes, it had been far too long since they had taken the time to do this properly; to caress and tease and pleasure each other.
"I love you," he said, looking directly into Charlie's eyes, those beautiful eyes that could change colour like the seasons. They were blue now, and dark with desire, and Rory felt that he could drown in them.
"I love you, too," Charlie whispered. "I always will."
"Good."
Charlie's hands gripped his shirt and pulled the fabric up, out of his trousers. Warm fingers brushed his abdomen, tracing indefinable patterns over his skin, teasing him as much as Rory was teasing Charlie with his tongue.
Somehow -- he wasn't quite sure how it had happened -- they were both naked from the waist up, and the kisses had once more become deep and frenetic. He pulled himself away and reached over to pick out one of the freshly-washed strawberries. They were large and ripe, and eminently suited to what he wanted to do to his lover. He held the berry up to Charlie's mouth and watched as his lover took a bite, then he rubbed the raw surface down over Charlie's chin and neck, down over his sternum, right down to his navel. The trail of juice shone in the afternoon sunlight, glinting as Charlie's chest moved in and out with each breath. He popped the half-strawberry into his own mouth, savouring the taste, and then licked his way down from chin to navel, not quite sure if he was cleaning up or adding to the juice that was already on Charlie's skin.
He took another strawberry and rolled it over Charlie's nipples, watching them pucker and rise as he swirled the tip of the berry around each one. They were very responsive, as he well knew, and a determined man could drive Charlie almost to distraction by concentrating on them. He bit into the strawberry and rubbed the raw surface over each one, noting how Charlie's eyes were half closed as he gave himself up to the sensation. He pushed the berry into Charlie's mouth and bent to suck on one nipple, swirling his tongue around the nub and scraping his teeth gently against the skin.
The pressure of his erection was pushing against the fabric of his trousers, but he ignored it for the time being. He wanted Charlie incoherent first, he wanted to see the wild abandon in his lover's eyes, he wanted to hear Charlie's moans ...
He found himself being grabbed and turned, and then his back hit the cupboard doors.
"My turn," growled Charlie, his eyes feral and gleaming as he leaned against Rory.
Rory's instinct, as ever, was to fight back and regain control, but he couldn't deny that the prospect of being teased was as arousing as his plans of teasing Charlie, so he tilted his head back and whispered, "Aye, your turn," as Charlie brushed a strawberry over his neck and under his ear. The berry was cold and he almost shivered as Charlie swirled it in arcane patterns on his skin, then again as he felt the heat of Charlie's tongue following the same pattern, over and around his skin, making every nerve tingle. He took a bite when Charlie pressed the berry against his teeth, savouring the sharp-sweet taste, and watching the as Charlie ate the other half.
"You're sweeter," Charlie whispered.
"Am no'," he muttered, but he was pleased all the same.
A second berry was even more tantalising, as Charlie rolled it over his right hand, following with his mouth. The combination of cold and hot over Rory's skin was tantalising, causing him to shiver as Charlie's tongue flicked between his fingers. Another berry was rolled slowly up the inside of his arm, in gentle swirls, and Rory pressed his head hard against the cupboard in an effort to maintain control.
Charlie used both his hands to undo Rory's belt and flies, dragging the trousers down and undoing his shoelaces. He stepped out of them and kicked the trousers off, watching Charlie with approval as he picked the trousers up and draped them over the back of a chair before grabbing another berry and kneeling down.
With the berry in his mouth, Charlie nuzzled a spiral around Rory's belly button, ruffling through the soft hairs on his stomach. He gave a hiss as the cool wet surface of the berry made its way down the crease of his hip. He could almost feel steam at the point of contact, the contrast was so great.
When Charlie chewed on the berry and spread the pulp over his rapidly engorging cock he groaned and thumped his head back against the cupboard door. His knees were trembling and it was all he could do to stay upright.
"Charlie," he groaned.
Charlie winked at him and took another berry from the bowl, taking one delicate bite before rolling it over Rory's balls.
"You're going to kill me."
"Not before you've fucked me," was Charlie's response, nudging Rory's legs apart and spreading strawberry juice all over his perineum before leaning in to lick it up.
Rory endured this assault for only a few seconds before hauling Charlie up and pushing him back over the table. "Oh, I'll fuck you all right," he growled, "but not before I've played with my food for a bit." He grabbed the bowl and set it beside Charlie. He chose the very largest berry and set it down into his lover's navel, conveniently peeping above the waistband of his jeans. "Don't let that fall," he admonished, and undid the zipper. He pulled the jeans off slowly -- he wasn't a complete bastard, after all -- and watched Charlie's body contorting in an effort to keep his stomach flat and level. "You're doing well," he murmured, throwing the jeans over with the other clothing. "I might have to give you a reward for that."
"Mmm, what sort a reward will that be, then?" Charlie asked with a smile.
Rory took the berry , bit the end off and then very gently ran it up and down the length of Charlie's cock. Charlie twitched and grunted, but was much less successful at staying still under this onslaught than Rory had been. Once it was completely covered in sticky juice, Rory pushed the berry into Charlie's mouth and began to lick it all up. His hands pressed down hard on Charlie's hips, preventing him from moving, and he used every skill he had learned in the last few years to bring Charlie to the brink of orgasm.
"Fuck, Rory, I'm going to -- "
"No," he said, squeezing hard, feeling Charlie buck and struggle underneath him. Not finished with you yet." He waited until Charlie was still again and then reached for another strawberry.
By the time Rory finally let him come Charlie had been reduced to a shuddering wreck, and all but one of the strawberries had been consumed. Rory smiled as he took the last one and bit into it slowly, savouring the sweet-tart taste and firm texture.
Charlie pulled himself upright and reached for the bowl. "Fuck, Rory, you used up all the strawberries."
Rory raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear you complaining at the time."
"But I wanted us to have strawberries and cream for dessert."
"So we ate dessert first -- don't worry yourself about it."
"What do I do with the cream then? It's already whipped."
Rory looked down at his still-hard cock. "I'm sure you can think of something," he said, with a teasing smile.
Charlie looked outraged for just a second, then huffed in mock exasperation. "I'm sure I will." He tilted his head to one side, considering the possibilities, and his smile turned evil. "In fact, I'm very sure."
Chapter 12.2
This entry was originally posted at http://alassenya.dreamwidth.org/101417.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
For introduction and warnings, go here
For a summary up to the end of TTT Ch 11 go here
Part 12 -- Redirection
12.1 Portents and Protests
Tuesday 3rd August 2004, 4 am
Rory woke up suddenly, his heart racing and his chest heaving. The images were fading, but he still felt the residue of the terror he had felt while caught up in the nightmare. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, which was damp with sweat.
Beside him, Charlie stirred. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep."
Charlie sat up and turned to look at him. "You don't get nightmares. What was it about?"
Rory tried to make sense of the vague images that skittered around the fringes of his consciousness. "Not sure. It was all very strange." He leaned into Charlie and let himself be eased back down onto the bed, welcoming the feel of Charlie's arms around him, strong and secure, and never mind that it was August and too warm for snuggling.
"You were in a plane, and there was an explosion, and smoke, and a lot of screaming," he murmured.
"Did the plane crash?"
"I don't know, I couldn't tell. And then it went really weird."
"Dreams are always weird."
"Yeah, but this one ... I don't know, there was just something about it that spooked me."
"Must have taken a lot to spook you, love," Charlie tried to soothe him, stroking his back and nuzzling into his cheek.
Privately, Rory thought that it didn't take much to spook him at all. The merest suggestion that Charlie might leave -- or be taken away from him -- was enough to scare him witless. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recall what he'd seen in his mind. "There was some sort of black smoke, chasing people around. Everyone was terrified." He shook his head. Whatever else there might have been it was all gone now. "I can't remember any more."
"Evil smoke monsters, eh? Maybe I shouldn't let you read so much science fiction before you go to sleep."
"I don't think I've ever read a book that was as strange as that dream." He frowned. "It all seemed so real, though."
"It always does. I had a nightmare once where I was seduced by Britney Spears. Frightening. I woke up all sweaty and anxious."
Rory laughed -- trust Charlie to find a way to make him feel better. He raised an eyebrow and looked knowingly at him. "Most guys wouldn't class that as a nightmare, you know."
"I know." He sounded very smug. "But they don't have you."
"You'd take me over Britney Spears?"
Charlie giggled. "She'd get squashed if I did that. Not to mention jealous. But yes."
"That's good. I'm glad to know that I don't have to fight her for your affections."
Rory settled his head on Charlie's shoulder and wriggled around until the rest of him was comfortable. He could feel Charlie's hand rubbing small circles over his shoulders, very soothing, and he started to relax. "I hate nightmares," he muttered under his breath.
"No more nightmares," Charlie whispered confidently. "Not tonight. I won't allow it." He kissed Rory's forehead.
Rory smiled. It was absurd to think that Charlie could control his dreams, but he felt a little safer, nonetheless. He drifted off to sleep again, safe and secure in his lover's embrace.
~~~~~
He woke at seven, when the alarm went off, feeling better but not completely rested. There was a faint sense of pressure in his chest and he wondered if he had indigestion -- the pork pie they'd had for dinner the previous night had been pretty heavy. It had probably caused the nightmare, too, now that he thought about it. Well, they wouldn't get that brand again.
He drank the coffee that Charlie made him, grateful for the caffeine boost, then showered and dressed. He hoped he felt better soon: he had karate that evening and didn't want to miss it.
The feeling in his chest faded after a couple of hours, but a vague sense of unease hung over him for the rest of the day. Had he missed something important at work? He questioned Chris and Ken and went through the work accounts carefully, but found nothing untoward. Business was good, on both sides -- he hadn't fired anyone recently, and nor had he had to lean on any of his loans clients. There had been no follow-up from the London police about Tuomi, either, so why on earth did he have this feeling that the world was about to collapse?
He found out why when he got home.
"Hi love," Charlie greeted him with a hug and a kiss. "Good day?"
"So-so." He took a can of beer out of the fridge and popped the top. "How was yours?"
"I talked to Pat earlier, and told him about the phone call yesterday."
Rory froze for a second. "Why? I thought you said you didn't want the band to re-form."
"I know, I know ... but Pat's my oldest friend. He deserved to be told about the offer. I want to be sure I made the right decision."
"You did."
"Yeah, well ..." Charlie's voice trailed off.
"What?" asked Rory, suspicion rising in his mind.
"Well, Pat said he thought Sinjin might be interested -- his solo albums have been a bit slow to sell, and his film work hasn't caught on as much as he hoped. He's going to ring him and see what he says."
"What?"
"Look, he's just going to talk to him."
"Sinjin won't want to do it."
"Well, maybe, maybe not. But Pat's right, you know, I don't have the right to make the decision for the band. We should all be involved."
With a sinking feeling, Rory knew what was coming next. The fact that Charlie knew he was on dicey ground was evident from his tone of voice. He waited for it.
"And Pat thinks I should ring Liam."
There.
The very thought of seeing Liam again was enough to raise his blood pressure. That niggling feeling in his chest was back, too. He said nothing for the moment but went over to the drinks tray and poured himself a glass of whisky. It burned his throat going down, but seemed to ease the discomfort, and he poured himself another.
"Rory?"
"What?"
"Why don't you say something?"
"What do you want me to say?"
That stumped Charlie for a second. "I don't know, really."
They looked at each other for a few seconds. Rory could see that Charlie was unhappy, but this wasn't something that Rory could fix. He felt as if they were teetering on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move by either of them would send them both tumbling to their deaths. He desperately wanted to give Charlie an ultimatum: to force him to choose between him and the band; but one of the things that the therapist had hammered into his head was that an ultimatum only made things worse, not better, and he had the sense to see that forcing Charlie to choose right now wasn't wise. Charlie was confused, muddled and distressed. He didn't know the right thing to do, and Rory's task was not to confuse him further but to help him to make a decision -- and then accept that decision.
Well, that was the theory anyway. Rory still had doubts that he would be able to accept any decision that took Charlie back into Liam's orbit.
He drained his glass, and with a sigh, put it down on the table. He could feel the effects of the whisky now, but while the tension in his chest had eased he didn't want to be drunk. Not this evening, not when he had to come up with logical and reasonable arguments why Charlie should not phone Liam. He had to keep a clear head so that he could keep Charlie safe.
"What are we having for tea?"
"Cold meat and salad. I found some new potatoes too, they won't take long."
Well, it wasn't one of Rory's favourite meals, but it was too hot for Thai or Indian, and he had karate that evening anyway, so he nodded and let it pass. Charlie went into the kitchen and started preparing the meal, while Rory went upstairs and changed out of his suit.
They said little during the meal, and the silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but Rory still had the feeling that anything he said would be wrong, and he was too tired to argue. He just wanted things to go back to what they had been, with Charlie home and safe, and nowhere near Liam or Sinjin. He had never trusted either of them much anyway, and especially not after he'd found out how Sinjin had dragged Liam and Charlie into heroin addiction after him. Alcohol was bad enough -- and he was perfectly aware of the irony in that statement, thank you -- but he could cope with Charlie drunk. He couldn't cope with Charlie addicted again, not after all they'd been through, and he had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that if Charlie went on tour with the band again he would be an addict within the month. Rory wouldn't allow that. He couldn't allow that.
He got up from the table and went upstairs to get his karate gear. Charlie was standing by the front door as he came down, bag in hand.
"Can we talk about this later?" Charlie asked.
"What's the point?" Charlie looked hurt, and Rory elaborated. "Charlie, you know what I feel about this. I don't know how you feel. I don't even think you know yourself what you feel."
Charlie shrugged, but said nothing more. Rory opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him with a click.
~~~~~
When he got back from karate, Charlie was in bed, ostensibly asleep. Rory suspected he was awake, but didn't press the point. He undressed, cleaned his teeth, and got into bed. Sleep eluded him, though, and he tortured himself with visions of Charlie drunk; Charlie addicted; Charlie seduced by fans; Charlie bullied by Liam; Charlie falling apart in some foreign country with no Rory there to help him.
How the hell was he going to stop Charlie from going back to the band?
Wednesday 4th August
The next day seemed to pass a little more quickly, though he was still uneasy. The indigestion had not returned, which was a relief -- perhaps he ought to eat a bit less in the evenings, at least while the hot weather lasted.
This time when he arrived home, Charlie was in the kitchen washing strawberries. Somehow that seemed to reassure him.
"Hello, love," Charlie greeted him with a smile. "I saw these at the supermarket, I thought you might like them."
"I love strawberries," he said, taking one from the bowl. "Mmm, delicious."
Charlie slapped his hand away but smiled. "You'll spoil your tea."
"Never. How was your day?"
"Not bad. I spoke to Pat again."
Rory stilled, waiting for Charlie to continue.
"He said that he's still waiting for Sinjin to get back to him. I thought ... well, there isn't much point in calling Liam before we know if Sinjin's interested."
Relieved, Rory nodded. "True." And if luck went his way, Sinjin would scoff at the deal and they would be safe.
"I think Pat's starting to wonder if it might be a good idea."
"Why?"
"Well, I know he's still worried about providing for the family. The advertising work isn't as steady as he'd hoped."
"He's better off than a lot of people."
"I know, but he told me that Mel's still going to have to go back to work shortly."
"And lots of families have two working parents."
"Yeah, but a record deal would mean she didn't have to work. He's starting to look at the advantages. Steady income, Mel at home, baby all secure."
"He might be looking at it that way, but Sinjin's moved on, and as for Liam ..." Rory didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. There had been no direct contact from Liam in the past eighteen months, but they got regular updates from Meg. Liam had settled in to his new life in Sydney, working for his father-in-law, and Karen was expecting their second child at the end of October. Rory thought that the chance of getting Liam to give up his high-paying executive job to go on the road again was close to zero ... but not exactly zero, and that tiny chance worried him far more than it should have done.
"Pat thinks that if Sinjin comes on board Liam will too."
"Do you?"
Charlie shrugged. He finished the strawberries and rinsed his hands, drying them on a convenient tea-towel and turning back to face Rory.
"The band is dead, Charlie."
"We could re-form."
"Fuck that." Rory paused and then looked closely at Charlie. "Do you really want to?"
"No." Charlie thought about that some more. "Maybe. I don't know. Not really."
"Liam won't, for sure."
"I don't know. And I'm not really sure that Sinjin would either."
"He would if the money were good enough. But it would have to be bloody good."
"It might be bloody good, for all we know."
"And it's more likely to be bloody awful." Rory snorted. "They're not a charity. They want to make money off you. Whatever they offer you, they'll want to be making four or five times that amount themselves."
"Not necessarily. We just have to make sure that we get the contract reviewed by a solicitor before we sign, like we did last time."
"Yeah, and that turned out really well, didn't it."
"Well, the money was OK, it was just that the company dropped us."
"And did you ever think that the amount of money they were forced to pay you by contract might be one of the reasons DriveShaft was the first band to be dropped by FYT? And that it might be the reason Rhythm Records sold out in the first place?"
Charlie stopped and stared at him. It was clear that he had never thought about things in that light before. "Do you really think that's what happened?"
"No one knows for sure. But I know Paul Burkholdt was under a lot of pressure that last year with Rhythm. And they were running seriously short of money -- FYT picked them up for a song."
"Oh." Charlie looked troubled. "So we caused it ourselves, then?"
"I don't know."
"What do you think?"
"Seriously? I think it was a lot of things. You were over-exposed -- not that anyone could have stopped that. You didn't have time to build up a reserve of songs -- the second album cleaned you out completely, and once you started touring, you didn't have any time off so you could write. The drugs ... well, I suppose they contributed, too. But I think you'd probably have folded after the third album anyway."
Charlie bit his lip, looking very troubled. "I was going to come out after the third album. I remember telling them that."
Rory put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I didn't mean that, Charlie. I don't think that would have made any difference at all."
"But they might have thought it would."
"Maybe. But that's all in the past now, we can't change it, we can't second-guess it. It happened and we move on."
Charlie moved in close and put his arms around Rory's waist. "I just want to be successful. I know I can write, I want to have the chance to show them I can do it."
"You will, love, I know you will." Rory's his arms came up to hold Charlie in a warm and protective embrace.
"I just ... I can't help wondering if this is the only chance I'll get."
"It won't be."
"I know you keep saying that, but I'm just not sure."
"I'm sorry," Rory said again. "I wish he'd made an offer for you, not the band."
"I do, too."
Charlie nuzzled him and that led to a soft, slow kiss. Rory could tell that Charlie wanted comfort and reassurance more than anything, and made sure that he kept things gentle and non-demanding for the moment. He let his hands roam over Charlie's body -- his trim waist, his firm shoulders and his nicely-rounded and very enticing arse -- letting himself feel, letting himself enjoy the experience of kissing Charlie as an end in itself and not merely the prelude to a quick fuck.
Charlie tasted faintly of strawberries, and Rory smiled to himself. Maybe they could take dessert upstairs to the bedroom -- the thought of rolling fresh strawberries over Charlie's skin and then licking up the juice was enticing, to say the least. They hadn't really played with food for a long time -- in fact, their lovemaking had become a bit too predictable lately. It was time they did something unusual; something to prolong the pleasure for both of them.
He kissed Charlie's cheek; his jaw; his ear; then moved down slowly and tantalisingly, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of his lover's neck. Charlie arched up and thrust his hips forward, but Rory was in no hurry -- not yet, anyway -- and continued his slow exploration of skin while holding Charlie still. He manoeuvred them both so that Charlie was leaning against the kitchen cupboards, and tilted Charlie's head so that he could slide his tongue under the neck of the T-shirt. Charlie shivered and gasped, and Rory felt that familiar thrill of power, knowing that he could elicit anything he wanted from Charlie just by touching him the right way at the right time.
Another deep, slow kiss followed that, and now Charlie was trying to force the pace, trying to get his hand between them. Rory broke off for a moment and pulled Charlie's hand clear. "Not yet, I want this to be slow."
Charlie's eyes widened. He swallowed and nodded slightly, and brought both hands up to cradle Rory's head as the kissing resumed. Rory felt soft fingers sunning through his hair and over his neck, and shivered in turn. Yes, it had been far too long since they had taken the time to do this properly; to caress and tease and pleasure each other.
"I love you," he said, looking directly into Charlie's eyes, those beautiful eyes that could change colour like the seasons. They were blue now, and dark with desire, and Rory felt that he could drown in them.
"I love you, too," Charlie whispered. "I always will."
"Good."
Charlie's hands gripped his shirt and pulled the fabric up, out of his trousers. Warm fingers brushed his abdomen, tracing indefinable patterns over his skin, teasing him as much as Rory was teasing Charlie with his tongue.
Somehow -- he wasn't quite sure how it had happened -- they were both naked from the waist up, and the kisses had once more become deep and frenetic. He pulled himself away and reached over to pick out one of the freshly-washed strawberries. They were large and ripe, and eminently suited to what he wanted to do to his lover. He held the berry up to Charlie's mouth and watched as his lover took a bite, then he rubbed the raw surface down over Charlie's chin and neck, down over his sternum, right down to his navel. The trail of juice shone in the afternoon sunlight, glinting as Charlie's chest moved in and out with each breath. He popped the half-strawberry into his own mouth, savouring the taste, and then licked his way down from chin to navel, not quite sure if he was cleaning up or adding to the juice that was already on Charlie's skin.
He took another strawberry and rolled it over Charlie's nipples, watching them pucker and rise as he swirled the tip of the berry around each one. They were very responsive, as he well knew, and a determined man could drive Charlie almost to distraction by concentrating on them. He bit into the strawberry and rubbed the raw surface over each one, noting how Charlie's eyes were half closed as he gave himself up to the sensation. He pushed the berry into Charlie's mouth and bent to suck on one nipple, swirling his tongue around the nub and scraping his teeth gently against the skin.
The pressure of his erection was pushing against the fabric of his trousers, but he ignored it for the time being. He wanted Charlie incoherent first, he wanted to see the wild abandon in his lover's eyes, he wanted to hear Charlie's moans ...
He found himself being grabbed and turned, and then his back hit the cupboard doors.
"My turn," growled Charlie, his eyes feral and gleaming as he leaned against Rory.
Rory's instinct, as ever, was to fight back and regain control, but he couldn't deny that the prospect of being teased was as arousing as his plans of teasing Charlie, so he tilted his head back and whispered, "Aye, your turn," as Charlie brushed a strawberry over his neck and under his ear. The berry was cold and he almost shivered as Charlie swirled it in arcane patterns on his skin, then again as he felt the heat of Charlie's tongue following the same pattern, over and around his skin, making every nerve tingle. He took a bite when Charlie pressed the berry against his teeth, savouring the sharp-sweet taste, and watching the as Charlie ate the other half.
"You're sweeter," Charlie whispered.
"Am no'," he muttered, but he was pleased all the same.
A second berry was even more tantalising, as Charlie rolled it over his right hand, following with his mouth. The combination of cold and hot over Rory's skin was tantalising, causing him to shiver as Charlie's tongue flicked between his fingers. Another berry was rolled slowly up the inside of his arm, in gentle swirls, and Rory pressed his head hard against the cupboard in an effort to maintain control.
Charlie used both his hands to undo Rory's belt and flies, dragging the trousers down and undoing his shoelaces. He stepped out of them and kicked the trousers off, watching Charlie with approval as he picked the trousers up and draped them over the back of a chair before grabbing another berry and kneeling down.
With the berry in his mouth, Charlie nuzzled a spiral around Rory's belly button, ruffling through the soft hairs on his stomach. He gave a hiss as the cool wet surface of the berry made its way down the crease of his hip. He could almost feel steam at the point of contact, the contrast was so great.
When Charlie chewed on the berry and spread the pulp over his rapidly engorging cock he groaned and thumped his head back against the cupboard door. His knees were trembling and it was all he could do to stay upright.
"Charlie," he groaned.
Charlie winked at him and took another berry from the bowl, taking one delicate bite before rolling it over Rory's balls.
"You're going to kill me."
"Not before you've fucked me," was Charlie's response, nudging Rory's legs apart and spreading strawberry juice all over his perineum before leaning in to lick it up.
Rory endured this assault for only a few seconds before hauling Charlie up and pushing him back over the table. "Oh, I'll fuck you all right," he growled, "but not before I've played with my food for a bit." He grabbed the bowl and set it beside Charlie. He chose the very largest berry and set it down into his lover's navel, conveniently peeping above the waistband of his jeans. "Don't let that fall," he admonished, and undid the zipper. He pulled the jeans off slowly -- he wasn't a complete bastard, after all -- and watched Charlie's body contorting in an effort to keep his stomach flat and level. "You're doing well," he murmured, throwing the jeans over with the other clothing. "I might have to give you a reward for that."
"Mmm, what sort a reward will that be, then?" Charlie asked with a smile.
Rory took the berry , bit the end off and then very gently ran it up and down the length of Charlie's cock. Charlie twitched and grunted, but was much less successful at staying still under this onslaught than Rory had been. Once it was completely covered in sticky juice, Rory pushed the berry into Charlie's mouth and began to lick it all up. His hands pressed down hard on Charlie's hips, preventing him from moving, and he used every skill he had learned in the last few years to bring Charlie to the brink of orgasm.
"Fuck, Rory, I'm going to -- "
"No," he said, squeezing hard, feeling Charlie buck and struggle underneath him. Not finished with you yet." He waited until Charlie was still again and then reached for another strawberry.
By the time Rory finally let him come Charlie had been reduced to a shuddering wreck, and all but one of the strawberries had been consumed. Rory smiled as he took the last one and bit into it slowly, savouring the sweet-tart taste and firm texture.
Charlie pulled himself upright and reached for the bowl. "Fuck, Rory, you used up all the strawberries."
Rory raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear you complaining at the time."
"But I wanted us to have strawberries and cream for dessert."
"So we ate dessert first -- don't worry yourself about it."
"What do I do with the cream then? It's already whipped."
Rory looked down at his still-hard cock. "I'm sure you can think of something," he said, with a teasing smile.
Charlie looked outraged for just a second, then huffed in mock exasperation. "I'm sure I will." He tilted his head to one side, considering the possibilities, and his smile turned evil. "In fact, I'm very sure."
Chapter 12.2
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