“I need you to be quiet, baby. Can you do that for me?”
Charlie Swan x Fem!Reader
Summary - While you and Charlie are tangled in the sheets—breathless and begging for more—Bella comes home earlier than expected.
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, fast-paced, quickie, mentions of oral f!receiving, kissing, secrecy, unprotected piv sex, slight dirty talk, and cream pie.
(Let me know if I missed any.)
Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.
a/n - Another short one shot while I work on my longest Charlie one shot yet. Stay tuned! (Major apologies for how rushed this is.) Enjoy!! <3
“Please, Charlie.” You gasp.
Your back arches off of the plush mattress, your hand flying into his messy hair. A self-satisfied hum travels from between your legs, his eyes glancing up your squirming body.
“Want more already?” He pulls away from your pulsing cunt, your previous release glistening on his lips and chin. The sight is otherworldly, your chest rising and falling with pure need and arousal.
You nod eagerly, spreading your legs wider as he climbs over you, settling his hips against yours and capturing your lips in a devouring kiss. A hum rasps in your throat as you taste yourself on his tongue, earning one from him in return.
He moves swiftly—one hand beside your head propping himself up, the other fumbling with the waistband of his boxers. With a hand still in his hair, your free hand grasps at his waist, waiting to feel him stretch you out.
Your lips pull away from his to suck in a sharp breath, feeling the head of his cock drag between your soaked folds. A strained whine settles in your throat when he circles your clit, prolonging your anticipation.
In an instant, his head dips into the crook of your neck, his lips finding the sensitive skin below your ear and sucking gently. Simultaneously, his hips inch forward, his tip finding your entrance with ease.
In an effort of encouragement, your legs wrap around his waist, subtly tugging him closer and just a smidge deeper. You feel a smirk pull at his lips against your skin from your impatience—no matter how often you find yourself in this position, you’ll never get enough.
His now free hand braces itself beside your head, caging you in and gripping the pillow beneath you. Your breathing halts, and your eyes flutter shut, just waiting.
However, the jingle of keys and the slam of the front door halt Charlie’s movements. Your eyes shoot open, and his head pulls back. His wide eyes lock with yours, surely mirroring his shocked expression.
Bella is home. The two of you hadn’t expected her to be home until hours later. Which is why you had begun to indulge in such activities.
Thinking quickly, Charlie reaches over to the nightstand and turns off the lamp, making the room completely dark.
“She’ll think we’re asleep.” He whispers from above you. His silhouette is vaguely visible.
“What if she comes in here?” You counter in a hushed voice.
“She won’t.”
When has Bella ever barged into her dad’s room unannounced—especially at this time of the evening? Never. Your anxiety soothes slightly.
The both of you fall silent when you hear her clumsy footsteps trek up the stairs, followed by the closing of her bedroom door. Both yours and Charlie’s breathing is steady, soft breaths traveling through your noses to reduce sound.
A beat passes before you both relax, tension melting from your frozen positions. The coast is clear. Bella won’t be leaving her room anytime soon.
With a shaky breath, Charlie nudges his hips forward, stretching you at a deliciously tantalizing pace—inch-by-inch—your walls accommodating his solid length. Your chest tightens with the breath you’ve unintentionally held.
You let out a sharp exhale, a moan braided in the heavy breath, making Charlie crash his lips against yours to muffle your sighs. Both of you breathe heavily through your nostrils, eyes squeezed shut as he fills you completely, his hips snug against yours. His cock twitches, eliciting a soft moan from you.
When your breathing steadies, his hips don’t move, his lips gently releasing yours. With his forehead against yours, his eyes lock onto yours, determination clear in his gaze.
“I need you to be quiet, baby. Can you do that for me?” He asks, his brows scrunched in subtle concern—pleading.
You quickly nod, biting your bottom lip, “Yes, Charlie, I can.”
“Good.” He places a chaste kiss on your parted lips. “‘Cause I don’t wanna stop.”
“Me neither.” You let out a breathless giggle, only to hold back a strained groan when Charlie pulls his hips back, slowly pushing back in.
He quietly shushes you, repeating the antagonizing and teasing gesture. With every thrust of his cock, your breathing picks up, morphing into shallow pants—afraid you’ll be too loud if you breathe too deeply.
The suspense and secrecy of the situation only heightens your arousal—your second climax approaching alarmingly fast. That familiar tingling sensation in your lower belly melts throughout your limbs, clinging to his bare skin and holding him close.
Charlie struggles to stifle his grunts, his head falling to the crook of your neck and letting small groans brush past his parted lips.
“Feels so good.” He whispers, his warm breath fanning along your heated skin.
Usually, you’d moan in agreement, but only a shallow breath is squeezed from your lungs. Your head tilts back and eyes squeeze shut the quicker his pace becomes, the pads of your fingers digging into the expanse of his back.
“I’m close, Charlie.” You rush out in a hushed voice. Your brows scrunch the more your climax claws its way to its peak, teetering at the edge, waiting for a push.
“Already?” You can hear the cocky tone in his quiet voice, his lips smirking against your sensitive skin.
With your admission, he moves swiftly, his fists white knuckling the pillow beneath your head. His hips barely brush against yours, avoiding the sound of your skin connecting.
“More… m’so close.” You whimper, your legs spreading wider to deepen his thrusts, hitting you in all the right places.
His pace falters, prioritizing the strength behind the thrusts rather than the speed. He pumps into you deeply—slowly and attentively, only applying sudden force when he’s fully seated inside of you.
“Come on, baby.” He grits into your neck, rocking into you thoroughly.
The subtle desperation in his voice pushes your orgasm to its very peak—your mouth falling into an “o” and eyes opening as you come undone.
The beginning sound of a loud cry trickles out of your throat, though Charlie is quick to place a hand over your mouth, cupping your parted lips and leaning back to meet your gaze.
Your eyes are glazed over, your eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared as your hips sputter against him—your walls pulsing frantically around his cock. A strained groan catches in Charlie’s throat as he slowly rocks his hips, pushing them as deeply into you as possible as his release crashes into him.
His eyes are locked onto yours, his hand still firmly planted over your mouth, slowly riding out his orgasm—shots of his cum coat your fluttering walls, mixing with your release and spilling out of you onto the sheets below.
When he’s fully undone, his movements halt, and his heavy breathing evens out into shaky breaths. Slowly, he removes his hand from your face, letting the air pierce your lungs in sharp inhales.
A brief moment passes before a lazy smile melts onto his features, and you quietly giggle in return.
It all feels a little… funny, as if you two are teenagers fooling around, afraid of being caught by your parents.
“Well,” He sighs, still inside of you, leaning over to pepper your face in gentle kisses, “now that I know you can be quiet.”
“Charlie.” You warn in a playful tone, welcoming his affection despite yourself.
Summary - Since Bella’s return to Forks, you and Charlie haven’t had much time to yourselves. However, Bella’s found herself tangled with Edward Cullen, granting both of you some alone time.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: 18+, sexual content, neck kissing, quickie, dry humping, kissing, fast-paced, and that’s all folks!
(Let me know if I missed any.)
Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won't be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.
a/n - this is an extremely fast-paced one shot—I was originally going to write a blurb, but here we are. This is for my dry humping lovers 🤞🫶 Enjoy!! <3
Charlie’s arm drapes lazily around your shoulders, your side pressing against his as you’re cuddled on the couch. The muffled sound of Bella moving around upstairs grabs your attention, your eyes shifting from the glowing television screen to the ceiling.
“Is she going somewhere?” You ask, a little hopeful. Guilt follows soon after—you don’t want her out of the house, but it’s been hard… adjusting.
Bella’s only been home for a short time, and while you’ve welcomed her back with open arms, you hadn’t realized how difficult the transition would be. The previous countless nights alone with Charlie became near nonexistent. In no way do you blame Bella–or Charlie–but man, you miss him.
“I’m not sure.” Charlie’s gravelly voice is uncertain.
As soon as Bella’s footsteps stumble down the stairs, Charlie sits up and you lean away from him, peering over to watch Bella’s entrance. She looks a little more done-up than usual, a subtle pink hue cascading across the hills of her cheeks. You fight the smirk that threatens to spread across your lips. You know that look very well.
“Hey, guys.” Bella greets the two of you while entering the living room, rounding the couch to stand in front of you both. She rocks on the heels of her feet and tucks her hands into her back pockets, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you guys later?”
She tries turning away with little explanation, but you can feel the questions beginning to radiate off Charlie. He removes his arm from around you, resting his forearms against his knees, and looks up at Bella.
“Where are you going?” He questions. His tone isn’t interrogating, but rather genuinely curious.
Charlie hasn’t quite read Bella’s demeanor as well as you have. Usually, she’d come clean about what she’s doing—always warning you and Charlie that she’ll be out late, who she’s going with, what she’s doing—but none of that has surfaced at this moment. She’s not exactly hiding anything, but you were a teenage girl once—Bella’s anxious. Maybe even scared.
“Oh, um.” She hesitates, her eyes flicking up to the ceiling, then to you, and back to Charlie. “I’m going out with Edward,” her words come out slowly, before adding, “Cullen—Edward Cullen.”
Your smirk is proving hard to fight as your eyes glance over to Charlie, who’s completely stiff and at a loss for words. You can tell he’s trying to keep an open mind, and not jump to conclusions.
“Edward Cullen…” He repeats to himself quietly, “Dr. Cullen’s son?”
Bella nods.
“That’s great!” You reply cheerfully. The Cullens have been a great addition to Forks. Sure, they’ve only lived here for two years, but you still find them to be a nice bunch. You’ve only interacted with Carlisle Cullen at the hospital, and occasionally with his lovely wife, Esme.
Charlie’s not exactly fond of your response, his eyes darting to you and back to Bella.
“Isn’t he a little old for you?” Charlie says through clenched teeth.
“Oh, my god.” You whisper, gently smacking the side of Charlie’s thigh. “She’s seventeen, Charlie, not twelve.”
Bella silently thanks you through her wide brown eyes, already having a hard time admitting to her dad that she’s seeing a boy. She and her dad are very alike—they keep to themselves, avoid talking about feelings, and are easily embarrassed.
“Yeah, Dad, we’re the same age. Besides, I thought you liked the Cullens?” She finally speaks, having gained confidence from your support.
Charlie fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s like watching someone argue with a mirror.
“He does.” You butt in, resting a hand on his forearm. “Have a good time, Bella.” You smile, receiving a smaller one from her.
“Thanks.” She slowly walks over to the front door, eyeing Charlie until he’s out of her view.
“What time will you be home?” Charlie calls over his shoulder.
“I might be out late. I’m hanging out with his family.” She yells back, shoving her arms into a thick winter coat in front of the door. “Don’t wait up!”
With that, she’s out of sight, the gentle slam of the door following her exit. Charlie stays frozen in his hunched-over position, eyes blindly watching the TV. He’s deep in thought, clearly coping with the fact that his daughter is officially dating. You can’t help but chuckle, moving your hand from his forearm to his back, absently rubbing wide circles between his shoulder blades.
“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You admit, smiling apologetically when his head hangs.
“I guess you’re right.” He groans, rubbing his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure this is just the first of many relationships she’ll have.” You reason, unable to contain your laugh when Charlie glares at you. He’s never had to deal with anything like this—having not been present for the majority of Bella’s life. Not that he didn’t want to, but he wasn’t able to.
Charlie’s focused breathing lifts his shoulders steadily, his mind computing. Your brows gently furrow when you notice a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Now he’s really lost it, you think to yourself.
“Talk to me,” you urge, trailing your hand from his back to his dark brown hair, gently scratching his scalp, “What are you thinking about—” However, words are lost on you when Charlie moves swiftly, turning and reaching over, repositioning you to lay on the couch. “Charlie, what are you— oh.” His lips are on your exposed neck within seconds, his knees moving skillfully to spread your legs, allowing his hips to rest snugly against yours. Your legs wrap around him, your arms snaking around his back and gripping the cotton fabric of his flannel.
His lips move hastily against your heated flesh, the rough hair of his mustache scratching against your skin in its wake. As your breathing grows heavy, your body squirms against him, adjusting to his sudden affection. His hips are planted on yours, your breath hitching when you feel his bulge pressing against your clothed cunt.
“Don’t want to think about it.” His words mumble against your sensitive skin.
Fine by me. A soft moan releases with your shallow breaths, your legs pulling him closer, pushing his bulge snugly into you. A small noise of recognition catches in his throat when he notices your efforts, a smug smirk plastering itself on your neck. He moves his hips on his own, grinding deeply and creating consistent friction.
The thin fabric of your leggings allows the rough material of his jeans to rub deliciously against your spread cunt. His erection grows firmer with every passing of his hips, his own grunts proving to be hard to mask with heavy breaths.
“Charlie, I need you.” You whine, your hands finding their way into his dark loose waves and tugging his head back to look at you.
His blown pupils signify that he needs you as much as you need him—his deep red lips shining from his assault on your neck. His hands grip the armrest of the couch where your head lays, his hips still absently moving against you.
“It’s torture not being able to touch you.” He confesses with a strained expression, his head dipping to place his lips onto yours.
All the times you’ve attempted to be intimate with Charlie since Bella’s return have proved to be unsuccessful. For starters, you’re uncomfortable with the idea of doing anything with her in the house—which is all the time. Except for now, of course, and you’re entirely prepared to make use of how much—or little—time you have alone with him. It’s clear that Charlie had the same intention as soon as Bella’s truck peeled out of the driveway.
You moan into his touch, your lips moving fluidly with his as your senses are consumed by him. He continues his hip movements, slowly building pressure deep within your core. If he keeps this up, you’re surely going to finish just like this—like a couple of touch-starved college students. Although, you can’t find it in yourself to stop. His entirety surrounds you—his touch, his warmth, his smell, his taste. You’re lost in him, your rational thoughts distant.
The strength of your legs around him tightens, that familiar sensation sending rushes of arousal to your core. For every moan that crawls through your throat, Charlie’s eager lips swallow them. When he feels your desperate grasp in his hair, his tongue swipes along your lower lip, eliciting a groan from you when he floods your tastebuds.
His movements grow faster, the couch groaning in response to the added pressure. The kiss breaks, both of your foreheads resting against each other while you breathe heavily—you because you’re nearing climax, and him because of his efforts, and likely the unbearable feeling of his erection rubbing against his boxers.
With the change of speed, his bulge repeatedly massages against your aching clit, sending shock waves to your tightening core. The desire to want him inside you becomes intolerable, your moans growing more desperate and drawn.
“Want you inside me, Charlie.” You beg, catching his eyes in a pleading gaze. His brows scrunch, eyes taking in your flushed appearance—plump lips slightly parted, brows furrowed, and cheeks pink. The rich browns of his eyes are nearly gone, his dark pupils dominating them, making his eyes appear black with hunger. “Please, Charlie, I’m so close. I can’t—” Can’t finish like this.
You certainly can, but you’re unsure of when you’ll get another chance like this. Your mind is clouded with the mental image of finishing around his cock, gasping his name, and sinking your nails into his bare back—it only heightens your climax more.
“C’mon, baby. Let go.” He whispers, dipping his head into your neck, gently sucking on the spot he knows you love. In addition, one of his hands comes down to the bottom hem of your shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing your stomach as he reaches beneath the fabric. His rugged hands gently grope your breast, his thumb rubbing over your hardened nipple.
The mixed sensation of his lips on your neck, his hand caressing your nipple, and his erection grinding into your clit sends you into overdrive. The ability to form a thought is long gone, your mind clouded by the pure arousal that washes over you.
Your orgasm crashes into you, a surprised moan leaving your throat raw as you writhe against him. Your thighs tighten around him as your hands tug him firmly at the roots of his hair. He continues his multitasking, simultaneously giving attention to three different points of contact.
The rush of your release dampens your underwear, surely soaking through the thin material of your leggings. The walls of your cunt uncontrollably pulse around nothing, the pattern meant to grasp at whatever, or whoever, was inside. Whispered curses push past your lips, your breath heaving as you struggle to catch it. Given the lack of skin-to-skin contact, you hadn’t expected your orgasm to hit so hard.
Once he’s sure you’ve ridden out your climax, his movements slow to a halt—his lips disconnecting from your neck leaving gentle pecks behind, his hand retreating from your shirt while tracing your soft skin, and his hips stilling, but pushing hard against you.
When his eyes finally meet yours, you both giggle breathlessly, the matter of the situation dawning on you both. You silently blame the heat of the moment, both of you blushing from just how ridiculous your actions were.
“Couldn’t have waited till we got upstairs?” You laugh, releasing your grip on his hair and resting your hands on his waist.
“We can do that too.” He grins, leaning back and staring down at you.
“But what if Bella—”
“I’m not done with you yet.” He cuts you off.
Hope you enjoyed it! If you want, as it would be greatly appreciated, let me know if you prefer shorter one-shots or longer ones?
Summary - Charlie comes home from another late night at the station. You’re determined to mitigate the stress that comes with his job—while showing him just how much you missed him.
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: 18+, sexual content, kissing, oral m!receiving, lack of foreplay (kinda), the uniform stays ON, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, soft!Charlie, the pet name “baby,” and the use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”
(Let me know if I missed any.)
Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.
a/n - again, this one shot has been roughly proofread, so apologies in advance if there are any painfully obvious spelling errors and grammar mistakes.
The jingle of his keys unlocking the door and the sound of his heavy boots stepping onto the hardwood floor prompt you to jolt awake. Your eyes shoot open, and you are met with your dark bedroom. Charlie’s finally home.
Earlier in the evening, he had called to inform you that he’d be staying late at the station and to eat dinner without him. You understood what you signed up for when your relationship first started, however, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed whenever those frequent calls came. Not only for the lack of quality time, but because you know the mental toll it takes on Charlie. Recently, he’s been working late almost every night—and every night, you’re forced to eat dinner alone and curl up into your empty bed, waiting for him to return.
Charlie loves his job. Although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate the way it keeps him from you. It kills him to know you’re waiting for him at home all alone, sometimes forcing yourself to stay up until he arrives. This is not one of those nights.
You had fallen asleep as soon as you cleaned the mess that making dinner warranted—begrudgingly crawling up the stairs, lazily breezing through your nightly routine, and closing your eyes as soon as your head hit the pillow. Usually, you’d have trouble even falling asleep, having missed the way Charlie’s warmth would gather beneath the covers. Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to it, despite how much you hate it and how badly you miss him.
Throwing the covers off of your body, you swing your legs over the edge of your shared bed and slide your feet into your house slippers. Fall is approaching, so the house is under a constant chill, making you grab one of Charlie’s flannels to push your goosebumped arms into the oversized sleeves. It was a bad night to wear shorts and a tank top to bed, you silently point out.
Slowly opening the bedroom door, your eyes squint from the harsh light shining from downstairs. Charlie’s looking for the food you set aside for him, no doubt, and you can tell by the way his footsteps move cautiously that he’s trying to be quiet. Your feet quietly drag along the floor, your steps barely audible as you tread down the stairs at a leisurely pace.
Turning the corner, you step into the kitchen, your eyes still adjusting to the overhead fluorescent lighting. You find Charlie sitting at the dinette table, caught in the middle of cracking open a cold beer. Rough night, you figure.
He jumps, nearly spilling his beer, when he finally notices you standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Hey, baby.” His drawn voice calls to you, setting the can down on the table. “Did I wake you?”
He looks exhausted. His stature is leaned back, legs sitting manspread, and he hasn’t bothered to shed off his heavy police coat or his duty belt. Hours of work settle themselves into the dark circles that form under his eyes, and his hair is messy, a product of him running his hands through it whenever he’s stressed. Which is often, lately.
“S’okay.” You wave him off, your tired words slurring as you shuffle toward him and hold his flannel closer to your shivering body. It’s much colder downstairs, and your body screams to crawl back into bed. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, baby.” His soft voice pulls you closer, his arms opening to invite you into them. Stopping between his spread legs, you opt to sit on one of them, sitting sideways while wrapping your arms around his neck. His arm curls around you, settling his hand on your hip while his other arm perches itself onto the table. From his position, he looks up at you, his warm eyes visibly admiring your features. He always looks at you with such adoration, his lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he does so.
“How was work?” You ask, a yawn forcing its way out of you at the end of your question.
“It was… fine.” His hesitation is a dead giveaway that there’s more than he’s leading on.
“Charlie.” Your tone is a warning. His eyes catch yours, but flick away when you raise your eyebrows, fishing for more information. Giving in, he lets out a deep breath, his eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
“There’s just a lot going on at the station—and not enough cops to deal with it. That’s where I come in.” He sighs, the stress of the day weighing heavy on his stature. “I guess it’s the price I pay for being Chief of Police.”
“You deserve a break.” You tell him, unwrapping your hold on him to run your hand through his hair. Your nails gently drag along his scalp, knowing it soothes him, and you watch as the tension melts from his shoulders just a bit. “I wish there was something I could do—to relieve your stress, at least.” He only hums in response, distracted by the soothing action as his eyes stay shut.
Charlie does have days off, but even then, he’ll receive a phone call about some paperwork that needs to be reviewed—or a case needs to be filed—or someone is specifically asking to speak with him, and only him.
“It’s my day off tomorrow.” He reasons, but you both know that doesn’t mean anything.
“For now.” You sigh, sliding your hand from his hair to his cheek, the subtle scruff scratching your palm. His eyes open to find yours, exhaustion present in their gaze.
The two of you stare at each other for a moment, silence falling before you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips as your eyes flutter close. His hand on your hip tightens as you feel him push back, pouring his affection into you. His other arm leaves the surface of the table and you feel his free hand grip onto your outer thigh, pulling you closer into him. Your arms replace themselves around his neck, deepening the kiss further than you intended.
A low groan settles in Charlie’s throat when he feels you squirm in his lap. He can read your body language fairly well—and that’s a telltale sign that you want him. Bad.
You can’t help but feel as though he needs this. A moment to forget about work. Indulge in something that doesn’t require effort—at least not mentally. If there’s one thing you know about Charlie, it’s how to get his mind off of things. When he’s with you, nothing else matters, and you’re determined to make that happen.
Quickly breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, your breath heavy with pure need. “Come with me.”
Charlie wastes no time following your lead as you lift yourself off of his lap. You grab one of his hands, pulling him from the chair and out of the kitchen, straight into the living room. Positioning him in front of the couch, you release his hand and undo the zipper of his police jacket, his eyes focused only on you. Slowly, you peel the jacket off of him, letting it fall off his shoulders and arms, before gathering it into your hands and tossing it to the lonesome chair beside the couch. He watches you, his head following your movements, curious as to what your next steps are.
Just as his hands instinctively reach for your waist, your hands lay flat against his chest, carefully pushing him to sit on the couch. He lands on the soft surface with a small oof, his head craning upward to look at you. He looks mesmerizing.
His legs fall in their natural spread position, his head leaning against the headrest of the couch, and hands resting atop his thighs, eyes watching you with eagerness. You’re positive Charlie expected to go another night sleeping beside you with little to no acknowledgment, always allowing you to get your beauty rest, but this—this is much better.
His eyes follow yours as you kneel between his legs, your hands landing on either knee. You notice subtle tension in his muscles at your touch, your hands moving up his legs at a tantalizing pace. His thighs tense up while you fumble with his duty belt, undoing the heavy buckle and sliding the bulky belt off of his hips, setting it aside elsewhere. He’s left only in his work pants and department button-up.
“Aren’t you tired, baby?” His gravelly voice cuts in as your fingers graze his pants’ zipper, pulling you to look up at him from your position.
Truth be told, your tiredness left you long ago when you noticed just how wound up Charlie really is. Your incessant need to pamper him consumed your thoughts, satisfaction only redeemable once he’s cared for.
“Not at all. Are you?” He shakes his head, his hips absently bucking beneath your touch. “Then let me take care of you.” You smirk, watching as the black of his pupils swallows his rich brown irises.
He’s at a loss for words as he observes your movements—undoing the button and zipper of his pants with ease and untucking his shirt from the waistband. His breath is shallow—shaky—when your fingers ghost the elastic waistband of his boxers. You must’ve been in this position a hundred times, but you still manage to get him riled up; his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes focused on every small action. His stomach flexes when the tips of your fingers graze his skin, hooking your fingers into his boxers and tugging just enough to let his length spring free.
He nearly groans when you firmly wrap your hand around his erection, admiring the precum that leaks from the tip. You glance up at him, watching as his breath gets caught in his throat when your eyes lock with his. His hands have fallen to the sides of him, absently gripping the plush couch cushions beneath him—he’s waiting, patiently—restraint proving hard to keep.
You hold his gaze as you lean forward, sitting on the heels of your feet, and capture the tip of his cock between your plump lips. He releases his breath, the rush of air coming out uneasy as his head falls back. The salty taste of his precum floods your tastebuds, and you hum as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive skin—simulating a vibrating sensation. His hips jerk beneath you as you feel one of his hands fly to your hair, his fingers grazing your scalp to maintain a hold on you.
Taking him deeper, you sink your head down, only stopping when you feel him hit the back of your throat. A low groan exits Charlie—your watchful eyes observing as his lips part to release his silent praise. You move up slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip once more, before sinking back down. The grip on your hair tightens, though it’s not uncomfortable or painful. If anything, it encourages a faster pace, your own arousal growing from the consistent grunts that slip off of Charlie’s lips.
You’re unwilling to let him finish this way, and as much as you’d love to taste him dripping down your throat, you’re feeling selfish. You’re unable to ignore the pooling moisture between your thighs, nearly soaking through the thin sleep shorts you wore to bed. You maintain a steady rhythm, tears gathering on your waterline from the brush of his tip against your throat, until you see his stomach tighten through his shirt. He’s close. Too close.
Hollowing your cheeks one last time, you release his erection with an audible pop and tuck it back into his boxers. His head veers down to look at you, his brows scrunched from his close climax and chest heaving from his heavy breaths.
He undoes the hold on your hair, sliding his hand to hold your cheek, his palm flat against your flushed skin. His thumb swipes the spit that’s accumulated on your now-swollen lips, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his own.
“I missed you so much.” He sighs, bringing his other hand to cup your other cheek, pride present on his features. He has his girl sitting on her knees for him after a long day at work. The sight makes his cock twitch.
“Show me.” You challenge, lifting yourself off the heels of your feet, still kneeling before him.
He takes the hint, peeling his back off the couch to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hands grip his wrists, and his large palms are now plastered against your jawline to hold you against him. Your lips move hastily yet fluidly. This kiss is much more fervent than the one before in the kitchen.
Charlie consumes your every sense. You taste him on your tongue, the brief sip of beer he got to enjoy still present on his lips. His starving groan echoes in your ears. Images of him with his head hung back, lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut just moments ago flicker like a film behind your closed eyes. He smells of cinnamon, firewood, and natural musk—his natural pheromones seep into his skin, only driving you even more insane at a close range. And all that you can feel is him. His rough palms cradling your face, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching your sensitive skin, and his lips consuming yours in a yearning embrace.
You move quickly as you lift yourself from the ground, lips still attached to his as you climb into his lap, straddling him. His hands fall from your face, instantly finding a home on your waist, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Draping your arms over his shoulders and the back of the couch, you break the kiss, much to his natural protest.
Though, you’re not done with him. Bending your head to find his neck, your lips gently graze the warm skin. His head tilts, his hips bucking into yours as you pepper open-mouth kisses along the tender flesh. Your lips move along his neck, paying extra attention to his sweet spots, and stopping just below his ear.
Grazing his earlobe with your lips, you whisper, “Show me how much you missed me, Charlie.”
You nearly yelp when he gets a stronger hold on you, quickly switching positions so you’re lying beneath him. There’s no wasting time for him as he paws at your flimsy sleep shorts, pulling the near-see-through material down your thighs. His eyes grow darker—unsatiated—when he sees just how wet you are through your cotton underwear.
His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, swiftly peeling the soaked material off of your cunt, prompting you to lift your hips in assistance. You lay there before him in your sorry excuse of a spaghetti-strap tank top, your hardened nipples peeking through the thin fabric, and his oversized flannel, with your hair splayed over the armrest of the couch.
“Beautiful.” He mumbles to himself.
He leans over you, carefully placing his lips onto yours in yet another kiss. It’s slow this time. Meaningful.
Your arms lazily wrap around his neck, your eyes fluttering close as your legs spread for him, welcoming him between them. One of his hands is propped onto the armrest beside your head while the other fumbles with his boxers, releasing his awaiting erection. His lips work against you as you suck in a small gasp, feeling him drag his tip through your wet folds. He’s being gentle, and thorough, as explores every crevice before pausing at your aching entrance.
Both of your breaths hitch when he nudges his hips forward, your walls stretching to consume every inch. Your breath quickens the deeper he gets, your cunt pulsing as it attempts to accommodate him. His mouth swallows the moan that claws its way from your throat when he’s fully seated inside you. Usually, you’d take the much-needed time to get to this point, but the situation demanded urgency.
Charlie’s other hand falls into place beside your head, now caging you in. His lips leave yours, his breathing heavy as he pulls his hips back, only to carefully drive back into you. Your lips part, and a string of quiet moans braid themselves into every exhaled breath. If it’s possible, your legs spread wider, the heels of your feet finding themselves digging into his lower back as he finds a steady rhythm.
Your hands spread on the expanse of his broad back, desperately grasping at the material of his police uniform. An incoherent stream of grunts rolls off Charlie’s tongue, increasingly growing louder and adding to your peaking arousal. You know you won’t last long, and neither will he.
“I missed this so much.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut and scrunching your brows in pure pleasure. “I missed you.”
“Jesus, baby.” He mutters under his breath. His lack of words is a sign that he’s close, unable to form a coherent thought.
He maintains the same speed, his hips digging into yours with forceful thrusts, trying to keep the momentum. That familiar feeling settles deep within your lower belly, sending waves of arousal to your already-soaking cunt. It allows him to thrust into you rapidly, your limbs clinging onto him as your climax quickly climbs to its highest point.
“Please, Charlie.” His name leaves your mouth in a pleading whimper.
“Look at me, baby.” The tremble in his voice lets you know he’s not far behind.
Your eyes open to find him locked onto yours. A sheen layer of sweat gathers along his forehead, and his hair sticks to the creased skin as his brows furrow in concentration.
His hips slam into yours for a final time, both of your orgasms clashing. Yours washes over you in rhythmic pulses around Charlie’s cock, uncontrollable cries leaving your throat raw as you finish around him. His cock twitches frantically inside of you, coating your fluttering walls in his cum. Charlie’s defeated groans climb over every surface around you, filling the living room.
When he finally pulls out, his cum spills out of you, mixing with your own release as it settles beneath you. The feeling isn’t your favorite, however, you’re distracted when Charlie places a gentle kiss on your forehead. Both of your breathing has evened, and the aftershocks of your orgasms are now a distant memory.
His body slumps onto yours, his head falling onto your chest. Your hands slide into his hair, combing the rough strands back, eliciting a content hum from Charlie. His arms snake down to your waist, hooking underneath you to hold you closer. The couch isn’t nearly big enough to allow the two of you to cuddle comfortably, and you’re sure he looks ridiculous with his legs hanging off the other armrest, but he doesn’t seem to care. He nuzzles into your chest, and while you’re perfectly content with staying like this, he deserves to be comfortable. Preferably in bed. With you.
“We should head up, Charlie.” You tug on his hair, pulling him to look up at you. “You’re still in your uniform.” You point out, chuckling.
“Fine.” He grumbles, lifting himself off of you, and tucking his softening erection into his boxers. You see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before a smirk is plastered on his face. “We really should get cleaned up, though. How ‘bout a shower?” He means together.
You glance at the clock on the wall behind him, then back at him. “Aren’t you tired?” You repeat his earlier question.
“It’s my day off tomorrow.” He recalls, and you playfully roll your eyes.
Summary - Bella tasks you to keep Charlie distracted as she battles her new "sickness." You do as she says. In more ways than one.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: 18+, sexual content, age gap (reader is 23), lying, subtle angst, quickie, fast-paced, kissing, slight grinding/dry humping, neck kissing, unprotected piv sex, a bit of cock warming, cream pie, the use of the words "cunt" and "cock," and the pet name "baby."
(Let me know if I missed any.)
Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.
a/n - yippee, my first post on my multi-fandom account. In all honesty, I did not proofread this one shot as thoroughly as I usually do. So, apologies in advance if it seems rushed. Enjoy <3
Truth be told, you know of Bella’s… “condition.”
Why she entrusts you with her secret—you don’t know. You’ve only known Bella briefly, having moved to Forks just a year before her return. When word spread that she’d be coming home, Charlie asked you personally to become her friend—a mentor of sorts, even. With long hours at the station, Charlie didn’t have the time to hover, even when he really wanted to.
Bella liked to think Charlie didn’t hover, but he did. Even now.
“Good morning, Chief Swan!” You yelled from your porch, greeting the Chief like you did every chance you got. The two of you had been neighbors for quite some time now since you moved in right across the street into the smallest house in the neighborhood with your mom.
“Mornin’.” Charlie’s gruff voice carried across the street. Usually, he’d disappear into his lonesome house, and only leave when he was called to the station. This time, however, he paused at his door in thought. You watched curiously as he turned around, immediately locking eyes with you, and cautiously approaching your quaint porch.
“I hear your daughter is coming to town, Chief. That’s big news.” You offered conversation, still curious as to why he was purposely approaching you. Charlie was a kind man, and sometimes even friendly to outsiders, but he was still closed off. Perhaps it was your age that prompted him to maintain his distance—two decades is a large difference. Younger people probably freaked him out, you figured.
“Yeah, I’m real excited.” Though, his unenthusiastic tone said otherwise. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh, okay.” You remained an open mind, waiting for an elaboration of sorts. “What about?”
“In all honesty, I need you to do me a favor.” His tone was serious, not asking, but rather telling. You would’ve agreed either way.
“Of course, what’s up?” It seemed as though he struggled to find the words to ask, his brows furrowed as he thought intently.
“Bella hasn’t lived here since, well, a long time. She visits, sure, but other than that, she doesn’t know anyone here.” That didn’t surprise you, especially since you hadn’t seen her once since living there. What he said next, however, did surprise you. “I need you to keep an eye on her for me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re close in age, right? Maybe you can provide some… input in her life that I can’t.” Well, not quite close in age. She was 17. You were 21.
“Oh, Chief Swan, I—”
“Charlie.” He corrected you.
“Charlie.” You repeated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Bella doesn’t know me, and quite frankly, I don’t know her. You do, though.”
“Please?” He looked defeated—embarrassed that he had to enlist the help of his neighbor to welcome his teenage daughter. After seeing the silently begging look on his face, you couldn’t say no.
So, when she called you once the plane landed, returning from her short-lived honeymoon with Edward, your vision blurred and hearing rang as she whimpered the words “vampire” and “pregnant.” She informed you that tensions were high between the Cullens; debating whether she should keep it or… “get rid of it.” Alice, Edward, and Jacob strongly advocated for the latter. You, however, only knew that Bella needed a friend.
It kills you to keep a secret of this magnitude from Charlie—who’s been pacing back and forth since you arrived. Bella asked you to keep an eye on him—a trend in the Swan family, it seems—and to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t drive to the Cullen house himself and demand answers.
“Charlie, please—”
“What do you mean I can’t see her? Is she okay?” His tone is frantic; worried.
“She’s fine. She just contracted a virus and didn’t want to worry you. Clearly, it’s not working.”
“So why can’t she call me? Why are you the one telling me?” Because he’ll know something is wrong by the sound of her voice.
“Because she wanted the information given in person. She thought you deserved more than a phone call.” You deserve the truth, you think to yourself, but you’ve made a promise to Bella.
“Where’s this medical facility? I’ll go there myself–” There is no medical facility. She’s shacked up at the Cullen house just miles away.
“No, Charlie, you can’t. She didn’t even tell me, so there’s no way of you knowing.” You hate how the lies roll off your tongue with ease. He huffs in frustration at your answer, finally taking a seat on the couch while you stand just feet away in front of the television. Sorrow settles like a brick in your gut, so you sit in the empty spot just beside him, your hand landing on his shoulder to offer support. “I’m really sorry, Charlie, but you know she’s in the best hands. Edward–or Carlisle–won’t let anything bad happen to her.”
“I know…” His voice trails off, uncertainty clear in his tone. He knows you’re right, but you also know that the protective dad in him can’t sit idly by. Your heart aches to see the way his eyes glaze over, his brows in a perpetual frown since Bella left for her honeymoon. The poor man hasn’t been the same since the wedding.
His house is empty again and his routine has fallen back into what it was before she came home; working every chance he gets and ordering takeout every night. His incessant sullen gaze has returned; his eyes are no longer softer like they were when Bella was here. You feel her absence as well. The house is eerily quiet–colder than usual–and the smaller things that accumulated in their shared spaces have been packed away and moved. Alice took the liberty of packing Bella’s things.
Your relationship–or rather acquaintance–with Charlie has nearly withered since her departure. There’s no need to speak to him unless it’s to relay a message, like the unfortunate one you’re delivering now. Still, you greet him with a good morning, afternoon, and evening when you see him; which is rare. You quite enjoyed being a part of Charlie’s life, even if it was through Bella, and you felt as though you had finally cracked the man who would hardly speak to you since you moved in.
“She’ll be okay. I promise.” It’s a stupid promise to make when you’re unsure of the outcome yourself.
“I guess you’re right.” He lets out a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face falling into his hands.
You gently nod to yourself, taking that as your sign to leave. You’ve done all that you can at the moment; told him of Bella’s “sickness,” given him peace of mind, and ensured that he wouldn’t attempt to see her in person. All things Bella instructed you to do. You feel terrible knowing Charlie’s original plan was for you to watch over Bella, and now it’s been completely flipped in the opposite direction.
“I should get going.” You announce, patting his shoulder and grabbing his attention once more. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else from her.”
Charlie nods, his warm eyes finding yours. He lifts himself from the couch with a gentle huff and stands to walk you to the door, as he always does. As you mirror his movements, the two of you face each other, subtle awkwardness creeping into the space between you. He’s decently taller than you, forcing your head to tilt back as you match his gaze. His eyes are masking a million different emotions, just screaming to be let out, so you provide the only form of comfort you can think of. Lifting your arms from your sides to reach toward him, his watchful eyes observe your actions as you lazily wrap them around his waist.
His body freezes, stunned by your affection, as you rest your head against his broad chest. Your cheek lays against his cotton T-shirt, saturated in his warm scent—woodsy, cinnamon, and smoky–as if he had just built a fire to combat the slowly approaching frost. A beat passes before you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, his head craning down to rest his scruffed cheek on the top of your head. His heart is pounding in his chest, the muffled sound knocking against your ear. As if to absorb his hurt, you hug him more firmly, your hands interlocking behind him as you adjust your grip.
“Thank you for coming over.” His defeated voice finally speaks above you, and a hand soothingly rubs your shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again.”
The feeling's mutual. The last real conversation you had with him was the wedding night. It hurt your feelings a bit; further confirming that Charlie was only interested in talking to you about Bella, nothing more. Sure, that was the deal, but you had hoped for more. Whatever “more” was, you still aren’t sure.
“Of course.” You breathe out, leaning back to look up at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “I hope to see you again soon. Under better circumstances.”
“Me too.” He lets out a defeated chuckle, the humor absent. “Let me walk you out.”
Although, neither of you moves. His hands stay spread on the expanse of your back as his conflicted gaze bores into yours. An unspoken magnetic pull lures you to him, his eyes locking yours in a curious trance. Your stomach flips when he swiftly leans in, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Mere milliseconds pass before his lips are ripped away; just as quickly as they had come.
Your eyes widen and the grip you have on him releases as you take a precautionary step back. Jaw falling slack, your lips part in utter shock, and your eyes blink rapidly as if you’re in a haze. Your face has surely turned crimson, the heat creeping up your neck and settling in the peaks of your cheeks. The look on his face, however, is just as shocked as you are–like he couldn’t believe he did that. He looks… ashamed. It’s almost visible on his face–the way his thoughts race–his voice catching in his throat as if to offer an explanation.
“Charlie…”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“Kiss me again.” You rush out, “Please.”
“Are you sure–”
“Just kiss me.” You nearly groan. Unable to wait a moment longer, you step forward to close the short distance between you two, your arms finding their way around his neck and feet standing on their tippy-toes. Your lips crash onto his, your eyes fluttering close as his hands snake around your waist, desperately gripping at your clothed skin. A low hum purrs from his throat while he deepens the kiss, dipping his head lower to accommodate you and satisfy his fast-growing hunger. His mustache and the stubble on his chin rub against you, adding to the pleasurable sensation pooling in your gut.
This was not what you intended when you were tasked with keeping him distracted, but you can’t find a part of you willing to stop. Not when he pulls you in closer by the waist, his fingers digging deeper into your heated flesh, grasping at you so you can’t pull away–like you ever would.
Taking the initiative, your tongue darts from your parted lips, swiping along his bottom lip and eliciting a groan from Charlie. The sound is like music to your ears, only fueling you further when your hands find his loose waves, gripping gently and tugging at the roots. Following your lead, his tongue combats yours, invading your senses with his taste, his smell, him.
Without breaking the persisting kiss, Charlie moves you both and pulls you with him as he lands on the couch in a seated position. Instinctually, your legs straddle him–your skirt lifting and bunching at your hips–and you finally lean away from him to catch your breath, your chest heaving in response. Through parted lips, Charlie lets out quick huffs, his back slowly leaning against the couch to allow his eyes to rake over your appearance; flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and hooded eyes that silently beg for more.
The sight of him is ungodly; sitting man-spread, hands now lazily resting against your hips, and eyes that flood with lust–the chocolatey irises being swallowed by dilated pupils. You need more of him.
Slouching slightly, you lean into him as your lips connect with his neck, leaving sloppy open-mouth kisses along the sensitive skin. His head tilts to the side to grant better access as a strained noise collects on the tip of his tongue. Your hips absently move against him and a surprised sound comes from you when the bulge of his jeans lines up with your aching core. The dull sensation urges you to seek more friction, making Charlie’s hands grip your hips to assist in your efforts.
Soft, satisfied sighs brush past your lips as you continue your work on his exposed neck, pulling small grunts from him and subtle jerks of his hips.
“Are you sure you want this?” His drawn voice calls to you, letting you know you can stop while you’re ahead. The thing is, you don’t want to.
“So sure.” You mumble against his skin. “Are you?” Asking sincerely, you stop what you’re doing to catch his gaze.
He only nods, his eyes darting to your lips and hands absently squeezing, encouraging you to continue. Slowly, you roll your hips against him, building the previous friction back up. The feeling is deliciously teasing, only reaching a certain level of fulfillment before it becomes unbearable. You hold his line of sight, watching as his face gently contorts into a frustrated frown, needing more as much as you do. His brows furrow, creasing the skin between them, and a low grumble gathers in his chest as his legs shift restlessly beneath you.
Releasing your grip from his hair, your hands lay flat as they palm at his shoulders, spread across his chest, and travel down his abdomen, pausing just above the waistband of his jeans. You halt your hip movements, letting your fingers tease at the zipper before asking, “Can I?”
“Please.”
It’s the only word he can muster before you undo the zipper at a tantalizing pace, the soft noise only adding to the fluttering feeling gathering in your lower belly. You quickly unfasten the jeans button, folding the rough denim fabric over to expose his boxers beneath. His jaw clenches when you tug the waistband of his jeans down just enough to reach into the stretchy material and firmly grip him. His stomach visibly tightens through his shirt, a low grunt exiting with a shaky breath as you free his hardened cock. Impressive.
Your closed fist works up and down his length a few times, admiring the way precum leaks from the reddened tip, pouring over onto your hand. Charlie struggles to show restraint as his hips shift upward to match your rhythm. You’re eager as well, feeling wetness gather and soak into the cotton fabric of your underwear.
Impatience gets the better of you when you release him, smirking at the sound of protest from him as your hands find the bottom hem of your skirt and tug the clothing item upward to gather around your waist. His mouth clamps shut when your soaked underwear comes into view, exposing the absolute arousal he elicits from you. Usually, you’d opt for more foreplay, but you need him–you need him now.
Unwilling to waste time, you pull your underwear to the side, using your other hand to grasp Charlie once more. With a little maneuvering, you scoot closer to him, lifting yourself slightly to align him with your cunt. He sucks in a sharp breath when you run the tip through your velvety folds, gathering every ounce of arousal before stopping at your dripping entrance.
Slowly, you lower yourself, allowing your hips to sink onto him and inch his way into you. Neither of you dares to breathe as your walls stretch around him, welcoming him and swallowing every inch until you’ve sunken completely. Both of you gasp–for air, and because of the way his cock twitches and your walls squeeze around him. He’s filled you entirely and you bite back the moan that begs to release. Without even moving, the feeling itself is euphoric.
“I need a minute.” He admits, his voice gravelly and forcing self-control.
“Me too.” You breathe out, your hands resting against his waist for support.
Staying put, you lean forward, capturing his lips in a leisurely kiss. The moments leading up to this one have gone by in a blur, having happened so fast. You savor him, enjoying the way he can’t control the soft groans you swallow as your lips work against his, your walls pulsing in response.
Your hands travel from below you, your fingertips ghosting over his lower stomach, his ribs, and his chest before settling on the sides of his face. His stubble scratches the surface of your palms as you deepen the kiss, humming in satisfaction when he invades your mouth with his tongue. Growing impatient, you feel Charlie’s hands grip tighter, urging you to lift your hips.
The kiss is unbreaking as you follow his lead, letting him raise your hips and pull you back down onto his length. You moan into his mouth as he repeats this action a few more times before you decide to take over. Heavy breaths blow through his nose as you speed up, creating a steady rhythm that satisfies the both of you. You’re unsure how long you’ll last given the coil that’s been wound up tight since grinding against him fully clothed, which technically, you still are.
With your breath picking up, you break the kiss to focus solely on lifting and lowering your hips. The pace is growing quicker, and you notice Charlie’s hips moving to match your efforts. Resting your forehead against his, you lock eyes as you allow an uncontrollable string of moans to push past your plump lips, your eyebrows scrunching in pure pleasure.
“I’m so close.” You confess, feeling your walls flutter around him in that familiar rhythmic pattern.
“Keep going, baby.” His encouragement and use of the pet name through clenched teeth signals that his climax is nearing as well.
Preserving energy and seeking release, you grind your hips instead, and you nearly cry out when your swollen clit rubs against him. It’s enough to bring you to the edge, your climax teetering and waiting to be pushed over. With a few more passes of your grinding hips, it doesn’t take long, and your head flies back to let out a drawn-out moan.
“Oh god, Charlie.” Your voice points to the ceiling as your eyes squeeze shut, your hips sputtering against him. Your cunt pulses frantically around him as you continue your movements, riding out your crashing orgasm and urging Charlie to do the same.
From the force of your climax, Charlie isn’t far behind. His name leaves your lips in an exasperated whimper, being repeated like a mantra. When your head falls forward, and your spent stare captures his, it’s enough to send him over the edge. With a choked groan, you feel his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls with hot cum as he stares deeply into you. Determined to wring out his orgasm, your hips move languidly despite the overwhelming sensation it creates for you, watching as his stomach flexes sporadically.
He lets out a choked noise when he’s finished, the grip on your hips loosening and prompting you to slow to a stop. The mixture of your releases drips out of you, pooling at the base of his cock. Both of you breathe heavily, your chests heaving in harmony as your eyes bore into each other.
You expect a feeling of regret to wash over you, but it never comes.
Instead, Charlie’s hands slide to your waist and pull you closer, his lips peppering gentle kisses along your jaw, hairline, and lips. He reaches over beside him, grabbing a flannel he left draped over the back of the couch. Carefully, he drapes the patterned material over your shoulders, and your hands drop from his face, letting you lean forward and rest your head against his chest. You aren’t necessarily cold, but having shared an intimate moment with him, Charlie feels the need to cover you–to make you feel less exposed and to provide care.
“We should get cleaned up.” You mumble against him, feeling him soften inside of you.
“Okay…” His voice trails off, as if deep in thought. A beat passes before he speaks again, his gruff voice rumbling against your cheek from deep within his chest. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
You smile, genuinely in what feels like forever, “I’d love to.”
