Chapter Text
Pickles and Charles don’t often find themselves the only people in the room. Usually this only happens in a meeting, but the kitchen is also a very good place for two people to have to share a space. It’s not often Pickles sees Charles in here at all and just assumes that wherever he lives, there must be a kitchen in there.
Since they’ve got the quiet space to themselves, Pickles dares to broach a subject that has been racking his brain since it was said. “Hey, Charles. Remember in the submarine?”
“Yes, I remember the submarine.”
Pickles put his toast down while studying his face for clues. “Why’d you say ‘No comment’ about the .. the thing?”
Charles rolled his eyes while his coffee brewed. “You mean Nathan’s worst nightmare?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Because it's none of your business.”
Pickles doesn’t believe that is the reason at all. “That’s bullshit. You literally tell us how to live our lives every day. You tell us how to dress, when to work, what companies to endorse and who to interact with. There is no way this is where the privacy line is.”
Charles sighs, defeatedly looking at the black tiled wall. “Fine. You got me. If you must know, I have no opinion on the matter because I am asexual.”
“The fuck is asexual?”
Charles pours his coffee. “It means I am not sexually attracted to anyone. Ever.”
Pickles isn’t sure if he believes that either. “That’s impossible. Everyone’s got something.”
Charles stirs his drink. “Nope. I am also aromantic. That means I don’t want a relationship with anyone either.”
Pickles frowns. “Wait, so you don’t want a girlfriend. You don’t wanna have sex. What do you want?”
Charles begins walking toward the door. “Typically I want stability in my life. General financial creature comforts. The satisfaction of doing my job. I enjoy certain sports.”
Pickles rushes to follow him out the room. “No, I mean like, what gets you going?”
“Sexually? Nothing.” Charles keeps his eyes forward.
Pickles is only sinking further and further into disbelief. “Are you gay? You can just tell me if you’re gay.”
“That would imply I’m sexually attracted to men. I’m not attracted to anyone.”
The tour down the hall continued with Pickles racking his brain, trying to make sense of this information, and Charles completely ignoring it.
Pickles looked dumbfounded. “Are you a virgin then or-”
“No, Pickles.”
“Then how’d that happen?” Pickles was getting himself into a state.
Charles stood at the elevator. “Curiosity more than anything else.”
Pickles hung in the air like a rag doll. “But that's -- But you didn’t enjoy it or did you do it wrong?”
Charles stepped into the lift. “It wasn’t very interesting. Talk later.” The doors closed, leaving Pickles in a disorientated state. He almost told himself that this conversation never happened and he just just made it up while tripping, but he knows he’s not high enough to fabricate that.
*
Over the course of the day, Pickles phased out and lost focus too many times. He just can’t think straight with so many pieces of this puzzle out of place in his head.
“Pickle, why’s ams missing yous beat?” Toki stopped playing to question him.
“Sorry, I’m a little distracted right now.” Pickles said with his head down behind the drum set.
Nathan turned his mic off. “What’s the problem?”
“Is it possible to just .. not want sex?”
“No,” Nathan blurted out.
“Hells no.” Skwiss looked personally offended.
“I don’ts think so,” Toki seemed unsure.
“That's crazy,” Murderface added.
“Is something wrong with you?” Nathan said, squinting at Pickles. “Do you need to see a doctor or something?”
“It’s not ME,” Pickles clarified. “It's … someone I know.”
Skwiss smirked at his guitar. “They’s probably a homo or something.”
“No, they said they just don’t want it at all. From anyone.”
Toki raised an eyebrow. “Was the girl boring them? That always puts me off.”
“No, it wasn’t the girls fault.”
Murderface leaned in. “Then I think they need psychological help.”
“But they seem fine with themselves.”
Nathan nodded. “Psychopaths always are. Until the frustration makes them snap. I mean, look at us back in the submarine.”
Pickles gives up. These guys clearly have no idea what they’re talking about.
*
With more questions than answers, Pickles goes back to the source.
He finds Charles outside, judging the klokateers. Pickles stands by his side and pretends to do his job with him.
“Pickles?”
“Oh hey, what ya doing there?”
Charles sighs. “Checking the grounds are being well maintained.”
“Cool cool.”
“Can I help you with something?”
Pickles won’t look at him. “I- I still have questions about earlier.”
Charles pinches his nose bridge and takes a deep breath.
Pickles does look at him this time. “How come you never told us you don’t like …” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“You all have a habit of making a much bigger deal out of things that distract you from real problems. I didn’t want to be one of them.”
Pickles is still confused. “But you never wanted to join in?”
“No. I have never wanted to join in with any of the distracting activities you boys enjoy.”
Pickles still looks confused. “So, tell me if I’m misunderstanding this. You watch us play gigs, get drunk and fuck strangers, and you’re just … happy? You’re totally happy not getting any of that?”
“Yes.”
Pickles blinked. “And you get high from … sports and finances?”
“Sure.”
“Man, what happened to you?”
“Nothing. I’ve always been like this.”
“Always? Like you hit 13 and just didn’t want your teacher to take her top off for no reason?”
“No.”
Pickles looks broken again. “But you have had sex?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want it again?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“I’d be perfectly content with that.”
Pickles frowns at him. “What if, like, the hottest chick you ever seen, like - throws herself at you?”
“I’d check if I have time for this first.”
“Really?” Pickles looks a little more hopeful.
“I wouldn't be aroused by it though.”
“How?” The excitement dies.
“It's not a very attractive proposition.”
Pickles leans in far too close and whispers. “Do you get hard to finances?”
“No Pickles. I don’t get hard looking at your finances.”
“Then how’d you get it up?”
Charles looks unsure, like he’s thinking back on a hazy memory. “I just - know I’m going to use it.”
Pickles pictures Charles like a robot that just engaged coitus mode.
Charles watches the cogs in Pickles’ head turn. “Do you have any more questions?”
Pickles slowly shook his head.
“Excellent. Carry on.” Charles simply walked away again.
*
It’s night. Pickles has spent the whole day ruminating on the information Charles has given him. It never once occurred to him that their manager has any different sexual preference to them. He’s always just assumed that Charles gets his kicks somewhere else with someone else. It never even occurred to him that people could be anything other than gay or straight.
Pickles lays on his bed and tries to figure out why this information is bothering him. It started when Charles said no comment to the idea of going down on a lady. He never really got an answer. Does that mean he has? Does that mean he agrees that it is morally wrong to expect a man to do that? What else has this man been up to?
It’s rare to see Charles excited. Or angry. Or nervous. Or any emotion. Maybe that's the problem? Pickles sits up in bed and considers that they have never seen him get emotional. Maybe the two are connected. He has no idea what Charles does in his spare time. The last time they saw him smile was mentioning their profits this quarter, and that was a while ago.
Pickles can’t lay here and think until his brain hurts. If he gets drunk he’s going to say something or do something he doesn’t mean. If he talks to the boys his concerns might be shared. That would make things awkward for everybody. No one should carry this kind of burden, he tells himself. He needs answers. He thinks he knows what he needs from Charles now.
*
Pickles finds Charle’s room and knocks.
Charles opens the door in some loose jogging bottoms and grey tshirt. “Pickles?”
Pickles looks the man up and down. He’s never seen him out of a suit. “Hey … what ya doing?”
Charles raises an eyebrow. “Keeping fit. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Why aren’t you?” Pickles felt proud of himself for turning the conversation.
“I have insomnia. I don’t sleep for more than 4 hours at a time.”
“I didn’t know that about you either.”
Charles eyelids fell with boredom. “This is about earlier isn’t it?”
“Course it is. I’m -- still struggling with something.”
Charles noticed the mixed feelings across Pickles’ face and body language.
Pickles’ face was grabbed as Charles pulled him forward and began inspecting him like he was a threat. Charles opened his mouth to look in it for some reason then pulled his head down to look in his eyes. Then he switched his room light on and nearly blinded him. Pickles obviously pulled away but it looks like Charles was about done anyway.
“You’re not drunk or stoned.”
“What, no.”
“Then you can come in.” Charles turned and led the way into his room.
Pickles isn’t sure he’s ever been in this room. The door has electrical wires running through it. The walls aren’t big grey blocks. They’re flat and wallpapered. He has more wires around the window. There are framed pictures along the wall. He’s got a king sized bed and ensuite bathroom. It looks like a New York city apartment in here.
“This … is much cleaner than our rooms.”
“It entertains me that you speak as a collective.” The other side of Charle’s room has a tiny gym.
“What’s that mean?” Pickles follows him to his tiny gym.
“It means you don’t say I, you say We or Us.”
“No I don’t.” He put emphasis on the I part of that sentence.
“What's for breakfast tomorrow?”
“We’re having toast, fruit and pancakes.”
“You said We again.”
Pickles had to think back. “God damn it.”
That made Charles smile and Pickles focused on it. “So, I was thinking about our earlier conversation, and wondered if because you don’t show emotions very often, does that got something to do with it?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I feel emotions. I just don’t feel sexually attracted to things. That doesn’t mean I can’t have sex or feel aroused. It just means people and sex don’t make me want it.”
Charles was now wiping his treadmill down. Pickles assumes that was what he was doing before this. “Then why don’t you show emotions?”
“I do. They’re just not very strong emotions.”
“Like arousal?”
“No, I’m just not turned on by sex or conventionally sexual things.”
“Like naked ladies?”
“Yes, like naked ladies.”
Charles was now rummaging through his draws for a change of clothes.
Pickles follows. “So what does get ya going?”
“Kissing has worked before now. Typically seeing the other person excited does it.”
Pickles is confused. Again. “Even if that excitement isn’t sexual?”
“Usually. One of my first dates as a young man was a carnival. She was so excited, I felt it with her.” Charles has stopped moving while he blankly relives the memory.
Pickles isn’t sure if he should interrupt his train of thought.
Charles snaps out of it and puts a pajama shirt on. “Anything else?”
Pickles sits on the bed, providing the only creases on it. “You never answered me earlier when I asked how you feel about …” Pickles whispered it. “Going down on girls.”
Charles smiles. “You boys make me laugh sometimes.”
“Hey, don’t change the subject.”
Charles continues to smile and sits next to Pickles on the bed. “If you must know, I have no issue with performing cunnilingus.”
“Cunning what?”
Charles only smiles harder. “The proper term for ‘going down’ on a woman.”
“And you’ve done the cunninglingus before?”
“Yes.”
“And what about guys?”
“The proper word is fellacio.”
“No, I meant .. have you?”
“Oh.” That caught him off guard. “I mean, yes, but it was a while ago.”
Pickles has never paid attention to anything as long as he’s paying attention to Charles right now. He even turns to sit on the bed cross legged. “Was that because he was excited too?”
“Sort of. The opportunity arose and went through with it.”
“But you weren’t into it?”
“No, but I didn’t know yet.”
Pickles leans in, confusion written across his face. “How’d you not know?”
“Because I wasn’t interested in either, I decided that I liked both. Turns out I wasn’t.”
This is the most he’s ever heard about Charles' life outside of the band. He can’t believe he never thought about how much of his life they take up. “Do you ever want it? Like, do we stop you from .. ya know?”
Charles turned to face him. “There are many things I have to put on hold for you boys, but that is one thing I am happy to sacrifice to keep this band happy.”
“But you’d go for it if the opportunity came back up?”
“Yes?”
“Why?” Pickles was starting to sound like a child putting his picture of the world around him together.
“Because it still feels physically good.”
Pickles thinks about that. “You said it was time dependent. What else?”
Charles already knows where this is going. “There would need to be a discussion about hygiene, privacy measures, preferences .. that sort of thing.”
Pickles raises his eyebrows. “You wanna … take me through it?”
Charles’ suspicions were confirmed, so he sighs and opens another drawer to find a contract.
“What the hell is this?”
“Privacy agreement.”
Pickles looks Charles dead in the eyes. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope. Anything that happens from this moment on will need to assure legally not to be spoken of to any living or non living person, object, animal, mineral-”
“Okay okay, I get the point. You got a pen?”
Charles produces one from the draw.
Pickles signs, having not read a word of it.
Charles takes the signed paperwork and puts it back in the draw. He kicks a drawer under the bed that opens to a long selection of sex toys.
“What the fuck, Charles?” Pickles looks like he’s seen god.
Charles looks at his meticulously organised box and picks the one bulb thing with a pipe. “I like to be prepared if ever I have company.”
Charles closes the draw before walking to the bathroom door. Pickles hasn’t fully processed the plugs, dildos, vibrators and rope under his manager's bed.
Charles opens the door and nods Pickles inside. Pickles follows him and nervously looks around.
“Do you know what this is?” Charles offers him the bulb looking thing.
“No?”
“Because I’m top, I would appreciate if you used this.”
“To do what?” Pickles looks scared now.
Charles squints at him. “You use it to clean yourself.”
Pickles notices the nozzle part of the bulb. “Oh dear god.”
“You sure you still want this?”
Pickles doubles down. “Yeah. I think I do.”
“Only fill it with warm water about half way.” Charles steps out of the room, closes the door and waits casually next to it.
The next 15 minutes consisted of listening to Pickles complain, shuffle around the bathroom and say “I’m fine,” like he was asked about something embarrassing. Charles chose to say nothing until after Pickles stopped moving. “There is a robe if that would be easier than getting dressed.”
“Do you make everyone go through this?”
“Mostly.”
The door opens and Pickles looks like a mess. Charles remains neutral.
“I need answers about that drawer under your bed.”
“Did you want something from it?”
“No,” Pickles said, offended.
“Then we don’t need to discuss it.” Charles wandered back to his bed and Pickles followed much less enthusiastically.
Charles sat himself in the middle of his bed. “If you still want to continue, I think it is appropriate that we talk about the expectations posed by tonight's activities.”
“Urgh….” Pickles fell flat on the bed. “It's not a meeting. How’d you find a way to make sex boring?”
Charles smiled to himself. “I’m sure you’re used to getting the fun part,”
“Yes!”
“-but one of us might be disappointed if the other doesn’t communicate clearly. As established, I will be top-”
Pickles rolled over. “Woah, why’d you get to pick first?”
“Because I don’t like being the bottom, and I know you do. Now-”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I’m the one that decides which groupies pass, remember?”
“Did I ask for a guy once?”
“Yes.”
“Was I drunk?”
“You were also high.”
Pickles covers his face. “God damn it.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, but moving on from that note, I need to know where your boundaries are. What kinds of things don’t you enjoy?”
Pickles takes a deep breath. “I have never stopped for long enough to even think about it.”
“I have a comprehensive list.” Charles opens the contract drawer again and starts reading from a piece of paper. “Do you have any concerns about physical limitations?”
“Charles, when's the fun part start?”
“After I know I’m not going to accidentally cause you distress.”
“Where's the passion? Where's the risk?”
Charles blinked at him. “Look me in the eye and ask me that again.”
Pickles looked at his completely blank face and remembered who he’s talking to.
Pickles sighed and sat up to match Charles. “Fine. Can we talk about what we like instead of what we don’t? This is bumming me out.”
“I accept.” He puts the list away. “What do you enjoy about your partner during the act?”
Pickles snorts. “This is ridiculous. Urm. I dunno. With chicks, I like physical features. With guys it's more about the force, ya know?”
“I think I understand. Keep going.”
“Ur … I like being talked to. I’m sorry. I feel really stupid.”
“Dressed, undressed, foreplay, no foreplay?”
Pickles is getting worried again about how methodical Charles is being. It’s like he’s planning something and Pickles isn’t equipped for it. “Ur … No clothes is better. I have no idea what foreplay is.”
Charles should have expected that. “Is there anything that sets the mood? Things you enjoy to prepare for it?”
Pickles really has to think back. “I’m getting quizzed on my own sex life and I don’t even know any of the answers.” He thought really hard about it. “Ur … Does drugs count?”
Charles' face sinks slightly. “If that's what you normally do to enhance the experience …”
“You’re not gonna do drugs with me, are ya?”
“No.”
Pickles found himself at an impasse. Surely Charles doesn’t pick up women and actually put them through all this. “Is this a test?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you just trying to put me off? Did you plan this?”
Charles smiled. “What makes you say that?”
“This is, isn’t it? You’re making shit up to scare me.” Pickles felt much smarter now Charles’ performance was ending.
Unfortunately, Charles opened that draw back up and pulled a rolled up bag of utensils out. The bag had organised condoms, packets of lube, a tiny vibrator, some rubber gloves and something called a dental dam in it. Pickles wasn’t smiling any more.
“It is funny to me that you don’t believe in my method.” Charles continued to smile.
Pickles lost his enthusiasm.
Charles saw it and decided he’s tortured Pickles enough. He sat back and took his top off.
“That’s more like it.”
“I thought you only appreciated female bodies.”
“Well, usually, but ya know, when-” Pickles noticed Charles smiling again. “Shut up.”
Charles was back to having fun. “Okay. I think we should try a few foreplay methods.” He kicked the-under-the-bed drawer open again and starts looking for something.
“Since you have never experimented with foreplay, I thought now might be an opportune moment to try new things with me. For instance-” Charles passed him a collar. “Pet play.”
Pickles looked at the collar blankly then to Charles. “You’re kidding?”
“To foreplay or experimenting?”
Pickles had to look at the collar while he thought about it. “Have -- Have you done all this before?”
“No. Most of this will be as new to me as you.”
Pickles raised at eyebrow at him. “Lemme guess, you’ve done your research.”
“Obviously.”
Pickles smiles. “Sure. What the hell.” He puts the collar on.
“Boundaries please.”
Pickles looked shocked to see this conversation come back up. “Ur … Like, don’t hurt me?”
“How do you feel about dirty talk?”
Pickles felt smaller as the words left his mouth. “Don’t- put me in the garbage?”
“Praise it is.” Charles puts a shiny black hat on. “I need to find a tennis ball.
The next hour consisted of Charles being patronisingly playful, giving head rubs and belly scratches, smiling enough to convince Pickles’ he’s on drugs and enthusiastically repeating the words “Good boy.” Pickles had also ended up naked while Charles remained half dressed.
After that, Pickles pointed to the rope. Their first attempt was shockingly boring as Pickles basically stayed still and let Charles figure out where his pressure points were and how best to restrain him while he discussed the different methods he could use to tease him. Although discussion of exciting things was a start, the rest was inane. Charles had an idea.
Their second attempt had Charles chase Pickles around the room until he was caught, fought with and finally tied down. This was much more exciting if much more painful. This gave Charles another idea.
Pickles’ wrists were tied above his head on the bed. Charles then blind folded him and smacked a random piece of Pickles body with a flat riding crop. Pickles shook his head and was untied.
Back to the draw, Pickles points to a string of beads. This is the first time he watched Charles put gloves on and start reading the packets of lube.
“Bend over.” Charles demanded.
Pickles did as asked.
“If it hurts, you tell me.”
“Jeez, I will,”
“You need to relax.”
“That would be so much easier if-OH!”
“I said relax.”
That didn’t go to plan.
Charles was rummaging through the selection again. “I’m thinking maybe sensory play. Should I order us some honey or something?”
Pickles has had a few ups and downs in the past hour, and the torment is slowly driving him mad. “Have you ever enjoyed any of these? Yourself?”
Charles hummed. “Yes. This one.” He throws him a rubber ring.
“What is it?” Pickles begins inspecting it.
Charles kicks the draw closed and pushes Pickles on his back to show him. He stretches the ring a little wider and slides it down to the base of Pickles’ cock.
“What’s it do?”
“Keeps you harder for longer while vibrating.”
Pickles looks down at it. “It's kinda tight.”
“The restriction of blood flow is what makes it so successful. I will demonstrate.” And then he clicked a button and watched Pickles tense up over the sound of buzzing.
“Oh fuck, thats different.”
“In theory, it makes orgasm more intense.”
Pickles started to relax. “I kinda like this one.”
“If you’re ready, I can move things along now.”
Pickles found himself actually getting excited. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched Charles go back to the rolled out bag. “Are you like … aroused?”
Charles looked down at himself and his joggers. “I suppose so.”
“What’s it feel like?”
“The same as yours I suppose.” Charles started reading another packet of lube.
Pickles is feeling a little desensitised to the vibrating. “But like, I’m excited because we’re gonna have sex.”
Charles pushed Pickles back onto his back and looked directly into his eyes while his fingers found their target. “I am excited because you are.”
Pickles’ focus was torn between his ass and Charles’ face. How can someone be completely unphased while jamming their fingers into another person?
Charles blinked. “Would you like me to continue?”
Pickles nodded gently.
Charles clearly disagreed. He sat back and cleared himself of mess and the gloves. “Perhaps I’m missing something you enjoy.” He starts stripping his jogger bottoms.
Pickles’ eyes widen as a smile creeps onto his face. “Yeah, that's better.”
Charles knelt completely naked, almost unaware how absurd he looks, half hard and reapplying surgical gloves with the same numb expression he pulls at team meetings. Pickles couldn’t help but stare. He never figured Charles to have abs under that suit. He never assumed he’d be well trimmed. He never expected to see so many scars. He wants to ask about that, but Charles noticed his concern first.
“Don’t worry about those.” He pushed Pickles back onto his back.
Pickles hit the bed, his cock still rumbling and his mind far from where it started. “Did you get stabbed? When?”
“I’ll tell you all later.” He reapplied yet another packet of lube and started over.
Pickles was already relaxed enough to move forward, especially considering he can now see what he’s working with, but the thought that Charles has been in fights that should have killed him worries him. What’s Charles been getting up to behind the scenes? Why didn’t he tell them? Are they in danger?
Charles watched Pickles’ face while he basically zoned out. He knows Pickles’ mind is elsewhere so he purposely aims up and hits harder.
Pickles snapped out of it like his heart restarted. “Fuck!”
“Good or bad?”
“Good, but give a guy a warning first.”
Charles smiled. “For what?”
Pickles squints at him. Charles knows exactly what he’s doing and did that on purpose.
Charles knows better than to mess with his boys, but in situations like these, he’s not their manager, he’s their equal and he can be playful on his own terms. “Do you have a preference for position?”
“I’m guessing you don’t.”
“You guessed correctly.”
Pickles kicked his head back. “I dunno. Just … How do you normally pick?”
“Preference on the other person's part for psychological impact, or I am to hit whichever biological spot I’m working with.”
“Fine. Do that one.”
Charles rolled Pickles over and propped him up over a pillow.
Pickle's mind wandered while Charles went back to his rolled up bag. “Is that why you did the .. lingus thing with that lady?”
Charles cocked his head, not that Pickles could see it. “Yes.”
“Because it was fun for her?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t think it was gross?”
“No.”
Pickles sniggered once, disapproving of Charles' decision.
Charles picked up on it and went back to his bag of tricks. “And how do you perceive fellacio?”
Pickles heard another wrapper being opened and thought nothing of it. “That’s still gross, just less gross.”
Charles opened the thin plastic sheet in front of him. “But you wouldn’t do it, even if it felt very good for your partner?”
“Probably not.” Something thin and sticky plastered itself to his ass. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Making a point.” Charles stuck his tongue in there and made Pickles cry out.
Pickles was absolutely not prepared for that feeling. The sick feeling of guilt and pleasure swirled around in a confusing flurry of emotions while his physical body tensed up and buzzed.
Then Charles stopped. “I just remembered the time. I’m not keeping you up, am I?”
“What, no! Go back to that!”
“Just checking.” Charles sounded so smug with himself, but Pickles couldn’t care less while his mouth was doing those wonderful things. Why’s he never thought of this before? Who else has Charles done this too? Pickles reached for his cock and tried to ease the feeling with a different feeling.
“If you finish, should I keep going?”
“Charles!”
“Right,” he smiled as he went back to it.
Pickles arches and clutched the sheets. Had he been thinking straight, he might have tried to see the connection between their conversation about going down on girls and Charles’ sudden decision to eat him out, but instead, all Pickles could think was “fuckfuckfuckfuck”. It went on for long enough that Pickles did in fact finish, and it was much more intense because of the cock ring.
Charles simply sat back and said “We’ll need to change the sheets after this.”
Pickles rolled over to take the device off and catch his breath. “What the hell was that?”
“A surprise to me as much as you.”
“And you enjoyed that? For real?”
“Yes, because you did.”
Pickles fell backwards until his body cooled down.
Charles only gave him a minute before gently prompting him to roll back over the pillow and going back to his little tool kit. Pickles heard another packet rip and shuddered.
“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable with all my protective measures?” Charles said, rechecking the date on the packet he’s just opened.
Pickles was starting to feel sleepy. “Not knowing you put everyone through it.”
Charles climbed over Pickles’ body and sat over the back of his legs. “Thank you for not taking it personally.” He fell forward and seamlessly pushed in.
Pickles was already in a really hazy state when it started, but the smooth entry and calm breaths made it really easy to stay relaxed and just enjoy the feeling, more than fuel any excitement he would usually feel. This time, he wanted contact. He wanted subtle movements. He wanted warmth. He wanted Charles close. Close enough that he could hear him breath, feel his body heat, move in time with him.
Charles fell forward and held him close while bumping into him, just fast enough to create some friction while not rocking the boat too much. Pickles curls into Charles embrace and follows the psychological high with the physiological one. His hands wander. His breathing gets shallower. Charles’ grip tightens around Pickles, and with a harsh inward breath from Charles, it's over.
No dramatic cum shot. No screaming, or name calling. No fierce kiss that finishes it off. Nothing like anything Pickles has ever been through. Just the slow and intimate feeling of Charles peeling himself off and checking him over for anything done in the throws of passion.
Pickles wasn’t sure how to react. That's not how this usually goes. He enjoyed it. He wonders what Charles is feeling after that.
“I understand if the answer is no, but would you like to stay the night?”
Pickle rolled over fast. “That's the first thing on your mind?”
“I didn’t want this to get awkward if you planned on going back to your own room.”
Pickles laughed. The only thing he could do was laugh.
Charles wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny, but he let Pickles get it out of his system.
“You’re supposed to say “Was that good for you?” not “Do you wanna sleep over?””
“We can discuss my performance while cleaning up, but I wanted to establish that I am happy to accommodate you-”
“Charles, Charles.”
“Yes.”
“Shut up,” he says, smiling.
Charles smiles. “Okay.”
Pickles was put in the shower while Charles tied up the wrappers, changed the bedding and put their used toys in the sanitizer bags.
While drying, Pickles went through every draw and cupboard in the bathroom. He found nothing except vitamins, painkillers, tweezers and hair gel. Nothing exciting. Just general hygiene products. Then he remembered the scars. He opened his mouth to ask Charles about them, but then stopped himself and decided against it. He thinks he’s had enough answers out of Charles for 1 day.
Charles switched places with him, hoping in the shower and sighing at the orange hair in the drains. He rolled his eyes when he saw that his cupboards had been tampered with. He smiled when came out to find Pickles still awake and trying to open the drawer under the bed.
“Did you want something?”
Pickles jumped and sat on the bed. “Nope. Just… Exploring.”
“You know it's way past your bedtime.” Charles came to bed in his pajamas and put himself under the covers while Pickles still sat on them.
In an attempt to copy, Pickles awkwardly put himself in the bed too. “Don’t say that like I have a bedtime.”
“You do have a bedtime. We met in the kitchen at 6AM the other morning, remember?”
Pickles hadn’t thought about that. “Oh yeah.”
Charles laid down. “I know you’ve been trying to get recording time in before the others. It's a good thing really.”
Pickles also laid down. “So you know about the guitar thing then?”
“Yes.”
“How the fuck do you know all this stuff?”
“I know when the drummer of the band I manage steals a guitar and records himself playing it.”
“Please don’t tell Skwiss.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Thanks.”
The room went quiet, but Pickles was still fidgeting.
“Charles?”
“Yes.”
“Is it okay that I miss Snakes and Barrels?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not going behind anyone’s back or anything.”
“No.”
Pickles let a breath go. “Thank you.”
Charles listened to Pickles quietly fall asleep. He checked the time. It’s only midnight. He checks his watch. It says he passed cardio tonight. He feels better that he didn’t completely disregard his work out tonight.
*
The next morning, Pickles woke up to find Charles dressed and ready for the day. “What time is it?”
Charles watched himself in the mirror. “8AM. I’ve been awake for a few hours. Breakfast starts in an hour. I recommend you get a change of clothes before you arouse suspicion.”
Pickles scoffed. “They won’t know it’s yesterday's clothes.” He gets up and starts looking for his shirt and jeans. “Are you worried about being seen with me or something?”
Charles looked down. “As I said yesterday, you boys have a bad habit of exaggerating events.”
Pickles threw his top on. “And you don’t wanna be the center of attention. I get it.”
“Thank you, Pickles. I hope you feel better than … yesterday.”
Pickles pulled his trousers up. “Oh yeah, totally. Like, I think I get it.”
“Excellent. I’m glad this has been an interesting learning experience.”
Pickles backs up toward the door. “I’ll make this quick and get outta here before anyone notices.”
“I appreciate that.”
The two of them made quiet and awkward eye contact while Pickles slid out of the wired up door and discreetly slipped onto the corridor as if he wasn’t supposed to be there.
Pickles found the rest of the boys at the breakfast table. He joined them no questions asked. Like Every morning, they wake up, accidentally meet in a shared space and just get on with whatever today consists of.
“Did you talk to your dickless friend?” Nathan says, smiling to himself.
Pickles started tearing his pancakes up with a fork. “Yeah. We talked about it. I think I get it now.”
“Carefuls. They’s probably ams goings to undos your sex appeal. I heards that how it works.” Skwisgaar warns.
“Yeah, no, they’re happy the way they are. And they’re happy for me too.”
Toki squinst at him. “Ams you sexless now?”
“What, no. I just think that we better understand each other.”
Murderface nods, empathetically. “Yeah, I think the submarine did a number on your head. No one could handle that kinda time without release.”
Nathan stabbed his waffle. “Except Charles.”
Pickles’ heart dropped.
Skwiss scoffed. “Nah, he’s was allowed to touch himself. Only we was banned, remember?”
Pickles let a breath go.
“Hm. You’re right.”
Toki raised an eyebrow. “And the Klockateers?”
“Yeah, only we got carpal tunnel remember?” Nathan pointed out.
Murderface folded his arms. “Bullshit, that's what it was.”
Pickles was just happy the conversation had moved on, but he was still secretly pissed about the Abigail thing, but she never came up in conversation, so he just assumes that Nathan moved on. They never even talked after they got out.
But that does make him think about the going down argument. Charles proved a point last night. Maybe the next time he finds himself with a lady, he might return the favour to see what happens.
*
Pickles opened the office door. “Hey .. ur. Can we talk?”
“Is it about the other night?”
“Yes?”
Charles pressed a button that closed and locked the door, shut the security cameras down and dropped metal shutters over the windows. Pickles thinks he figured out why Charles' door and windows are all electronically controlled.
Charles produced a clipboard with a contract on it. Pickles sighed and blindly signed it.
“What was it you wanted to discuss?”
“So … I know I enjoyed it, and thought maybe you were right.” Pickles put his hands in his pockets and looked at the table. “Maybe I’m just being selfish when I have company over.”
Charles checked his watch then pressed a button to call someone. “I’m going to be out of the office for a few hours. I’d prefer not to be disturbed.”
“Yes sir,” the voice responded as the line cut.
“Was there anything in particular you were thinking about?”
Pickles swallowed. “That .. thing with your mouth,” he mumbled.
Charles gets it. “I also have notes regarding our time together, that is if you consent to that?”
Pickles shook with anticipation. “We opening that drawer again?”
“Yes.”
“Then fuck yeah.”