Page 71 of Break the Rule
All of it is messy and confusing and startlingly painful. Looking at Charlie hurts, but he can’t fucking look away because Charlie is still on his knees, his face a mess of spit and tears with his flushed cheeks and his messy hair that Eden was pullingnot a minute ago. He looks like sex personified because he was desperately choking on Eden’s dick.
As if all of this wasn’t disconcerting enough, he’s got a look in his eyes like a puppy—all pride and eagerness. Like he knows he did good, and he’s waiting for Eden to tell him. Which, okay yeah, he did good. In all the ways Eden ever imagined someone might do that for the first time, it’d never occurred to it might be like this, might be withhim.
“Fuck you.”
Saying those two words is like picking off a scab—a rush of relief followed by a sharp sting of discomfort. He knows he’s being an asshole, and the sooner Charlie realizes who Eden is, the sooner he will leave. For all of Andrew’s assertions about what his brother wants, Eden still has doubts. He probably only wants Eden for sex, and maybe that’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows how to do anyway.
“I was kind of expecting a ‘thank you, Charlie, you’re really good at sucking cock’, but ‘fuck you’works too.”
Charlie grins at Eden, self-satisfied and happy. Like he enjoyed what just happened. Like choking on dick and then being snapped at is somehow pleasurable for him. The absolute fucking weirdo.
“Let me,” Charlie murmurs, reaching for Eden’s boxers.
Instinctively, Eden flinches, expecting Charlie to try and peel them all the way off—waiting for Charlie to demand his own relief. Instead, his delicate fingers curl around the waistband of Eden’s boxers where they’re hanging around his ankles, to slowly tug them up under Eden’s skirt. He doesn’t grope or fondle, just tucks Eden’s softened cock in, then adjusts the waistband and smooths his skirt down. Charlie grabs his own discarded shirt from the floor and scrubs it over his face. He’s still splotchy, his hair a mess, but he’s less wet now.
“That’s better,” Charlie laughs, rising from the ground. Grabbing his belt buckle, he yanks hard so the colorful belt slips out of the loops, dangling from his hand. Eden tenses, waiting, but all that happens is Charlie dropping the belt to the ground on top of his discarded shirt before kicking off his Crocs so he’s left standing in nothing but his pants.
Dressed down and half-naked, Charlie is quite handsome. His hips are narrow, and his chest—with his darker skin and even darker hair—is broader than Eden’s. This is the point where Eden knows he’s supposed to get on his knees and take care of Charlie’s erection where it’s tenting his linen pants impressively.
This is the part where Eden needs to reciprocate, to offer back something. Charlie is going to demand it if he doesn’t offer.
“So, I want to show you something.” Charlie’s thumbs loop into his pockets, and he rocks on his bare feet.
“I’ve seen your dick already.”
“Darn, and here I was hoping for a majestic reveal,” Charlie smirks.
Something close to discomfort and relief mix in Eden’s chest. This is fine. Charlie wants sex, of course he does. It’s not even like Eden doesn’t want it. He’s just a little off kilter. He just needs a few minutes to settle his stupid, racing brain, and then he can suck Charlie’s dick. Maybe if he can escape to the bathroom for a few minutes, he can get his brain back on track.
“Seriously though, I want to show you something.”
“I told you, I’ve seen your dick.”
“It’s not my dick,” Charlie snorts.
“But you’re hard,” Eden points out, more confused than ever.
Charlie shrugs. “It’s fine, I have something else I want more.”
Confusion wars with relief and disappointment. So Charlie doesn’t want him to suck his cock? What the fuck does he want? Eden doesn’t know what’s happening, and the urge to back up and run out the front door makes his chest tight. He's not goodat this. He doesn’t even know whatthisis, but he knows he’s bad at it.
“It’s out back.”
“Oh, so you’re not just a stalker, you’re a serial killer,” Eden replies, wondering what’s wrong with him. He can’t just let someone be nice to him. He has to go and make it awkward.
“No,” Charlie replies, then frowns. “Well, I meanno—but also what I’m going to show you probably won’t help your stalker jokes. Hopefully you don’t think it’s weird.”
“It’s already weird.”
“Why?”
Because he’s weird. Because he’s not normal. Because he’s not good enough for Charlie. Because he doesn’t know what to do if Charlie wants something besides sex from him.
“Because you’re weird,” Eden blurts.
“Fair.” Charlie’s smile widens. “Being weird is great. Keeps all the normies away.”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?”
