Charlie

The rumbling laughter that had been engulfing the boardroom began to die down - or was rather forced down, as our boss steadily turned deeper shades of purple. Charlie stood at the foot of the room, barely suppressing his sheepish grin, as the rest of us battled for composure, tears running down our cheeks.

My eyes locked with Judith Carrigan, and we simultaneously dissolved into giggles again. Charlie just bit his lip. Our boss's head progressed toward becoming the exact shape and shade of a beet, almost reaching point break before she bellowed, "Silence!"

Charlie winced. He pushed a handful of his shaggy, blonde hair out of his eyes, and prepared himself for the blow, shoving his hands back into his jeans.

She wouldn't punish him, and we all knew it. No one punished Charlie - he was a clown; he couldn't help it.

"This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow. Carrigan!" the boss spat, referring to Charlie, not his sister. "You'll learn to control yourself, or be out on the street. Now, everyone, out."

She hobbled away. The obvious tear in the seat of her pants from her retaliatory jump to Charlie's joke glared back at us as her giant ass wagged out the door. The heavy wood barely clicked back into place before the gales of laughter started again.

Charlie bent into a low bow - still the same smug troublemaker he'd always been, then sunk into one of the chairs to join in on the laughter.

"I thought that was the final straw," he admitted, grinning like a fool.

"You're a prize idiot," Judith said, clocking him fondly on the cheek. "She was steaming out the nose."

He shrugged, clearly saying, I do what I can.

"We're exempt from the jokes while we stay with you, right Charlie?" I asked, standing and straightening out my skirt.

Judith and I share an apartment on the east end of town, but the entire building is being evacuated overnight while its water system is re-piped. Damned inconvenience. Charlie had immediately offered us his room, and claimed he and the couch needed to reconcile anyway.

"You know my jokes are never intentional, Sam."

"Uh huh."

He winks at me, in his mischievous way, and I vow to buy my own food for the night.

We skulk out into the office area, but don't bother stopping back at our desks, as the five o'clock chime hath struck.

Garrett Hanlon swings past Charlie, clocking him on the shoulder. "You're my hero, Carrigan."

Charlie winks, obviously pleased.

Hanlon gives me a long stare. "Have a good weekend, Sam."

"Uh, you too, Garrett."

He flashes me a (okay, he's charming) half smile, and takes off toward his car.

"Stud." Judith states, in her factual way. "Go for it."

Charlie hesitates, looking thoughtfully after Hanlon. His smile is gone. "You really go for that handsome, charming, I-drive-a-BMW thing, Sam? I thought you had all sorts of standards."

"Well, what do you suggest I go for, Charlie?"

He flashes me a suggestive grin. "Someone with personality."

Judith and I laugh all the way to my car.

------

"Shit, Charlie!" I squeal, pulling a pillow over my face. "What the hell is this?"

"I Was a Teenage Werewolf," he says, clearly disgusted at my ignorance. "What did you watch as a kid?"

"The Disney Channel?"

Charlie sneers, not even validating that with a response.

I'm curled up in a ball, wearing a Mets tank and a pair of Charlie's boxers. I gave up on the my-own-food rule when I spotted his Cherry Garcia, which was now in my lap, half eaten.

"Think Judith and Mr. Levitt are having fun?"

Charlie snorts. "She's such a martyr. One day she'll learn to say no."

"Hell no."

We share a mutual moment of internal amusement over his sister's pity date.

"His hair plugs ..."

"Those are hair plugs?" Charlie asks, horrified. "I thought it was some sort of infection."

I laugh and toss a pillow at his head. He catches it and lunges at me, attempting to reap his revenge.

it turns into a laughing struggle over the pillow, until the ice cream clatters to the floor - then it becomes some sort of mission to avenge the wasted treat. He locks his knees around my legs and attempts to block my hands from his face, making exaggerated noises of pain.

Gasping for breath, I forget my battle for a moment, which allows him to lock my hands over my head.

"I win," he says, with an eat shit grin.

I roll my eyes - refusing to admit defeat.

"I win," he repeats, his smile growing more to a gloat. "Say it, Sam."

His hair has flopped into his eyes, and for a moment, I'm distracted. He's changed over the years. Gotten ... cute. More than just the funny guy. Maybe he's even --

My thoughts are cut short as he leans in, very quickly, and scoops his lips over mine with surprising softness. As unprepared as I was for this, the flaring in my stomach, the sudden heat, is even more surprising. His mouth moves slowly, his teeth scraping over my bottom lip as his hand sinks into my hair.

His tongue traces my bottom lip and his hand toys with the exposed thigh just below the hem of his boxer shorts, before spreading over my leg, possessively. I open my mouth to him as his tongue slips in, pressing against mine with urgency. I feel my nipples tighten as his hips dig into mine.

A small moan escapes me, and for some reason, the sound snaps him out of it, and he lurches backward. His face is not the ecstasy engulfed expression I dream of in a man that's just kissed me. He's ripped his hand from my leg as though it'd burned him.

"Christ, Sam."

I try to catch my breath. "Charlie."

He takes a breath. Won't look at me. "I'm so sorry, Sam. You were looking at my mouth. I don't ... shit." He sinks his head into his hand. "Shit, shit."

The fact of what just happened hits me as my hormones begin to slow down. "Oh, shit."

I scoop the ice cream off the floor and stumble hurriedly into the kitchen. My hands are shaking. He stands up, and I can see the bulge in his jeans. Oh, God. Heat flares in me as my mind suddenly obsesses about groping at it, filling my hand with a big, hard cock; the thoughts make my knees weak. I can't seem to look away.

His eyes widen and focus on me. "Sam." His tone has warning. My eyes snap up to his, and it doesn't help one bit. He looks tousled. Not in control. He's not making a joke. When the hell did he get so sexy?

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. Stupid. Stupid.

We stare at each other for what seems like a very long time before he walks slowly, deliberately (must be the bulge ... oh, God.) into the kitchen with me. "You're sorry?"

Finally, he seems amused.

"For ... you know. Looking at your ... your ..." My eyes flick down to his mouth. Had I been staring? It's a very nice mouth, after all. Dunno why I didn't notice before. Much nicer than Hanlon's. He's got a very plump bottom lip. The type I usually fantasize about sinking my teeth into.

"Oh, fucking hell," he mutters, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me back into him. He devours my mouth, his free hand melding into my ass and pulling me against his arousal.

I gasp in surprise, and feel him smile against my mouth, and knead my ass a bit. He's enjoying this. Hell, I'm enjoying it. His cock is rock hard against the silky fabric of the boxer shorts, straining against the zipper of his jeans. I pull at him gently, urging him toward the bedroom.

He stops kissing me for a moment with a cocky grin. "Sam," he says, in a tone of mock patronization.

He takes a step back and looks at me, his eyes falling to my breasts, loose under the tank. My nipples poke out through the thin material, and he groans.

His hand spreads against the small of my back pulling me back to him. He breathes hot air into my ear as he skims his hands over my ass and up my torso.

He kisses his way back to my mouth as I stand frozen in shock and arousal. One of his hands slides up to cup my breast and I finally unfreeze, and nearly fall over, but he catches me with a smooth arm hooked around my waist. One of his thumbs moves over my nipple, sending sharp sensations through my body. I moan into his mouth, pressing my hips into his. He breaks his mouth away from mine and gives me a light shove toward his bedroom.

He's grinning, the bastard, as I grope my way toward his room. He closes the door behind him and pulls his tee shirt over his head.

Coming back to my senses, I spread a hand over the center of his chest before he can work on his pants and push hard enough to back him against the door. I sink my teeth into his neck, ripping a moan from him, as my hand explore his ribcage, his stomach, and the waistband of his jeans. I dip a few fingers into the well of space between the jeans and my goal and he manages a husky laugh.

He kisses me again as I work on the button of his jeans. He tugs at the hem of my tank top, and I lift one arm for him, and then the other, allowing him to peel it off of me.

His pants come off somehow, I can't really pay attention as, in a quick motion, somehow I'm against the door in Charlie's place, and he's nipping at my neck again, and jerking the boxers down my hips. His hand is holding my hip firmly against the wooden door as he nibbles his way down my throat and to my breasts.

My fingernails dig into his shoulders as his warm mouth closes around one of my nipples. He is impossibly sexy about it, using his hands to glide over the sides of my body, intensifying the sensation. He touches my legs sparingly, using his thumbs to tease the insides of my thighs. I might die. I'm wearing only my small, baby blue panties. If I'd known, I would've worn something sexy and lacy, but he doesn't seem to mind.

I manage to slide my hand down to grip his cock, and with a sharp inhalation, he clamps down on the nipple he'd been sucking on. This only causes me to tighten my grip, and after only a few seconds of this delicious sensation, his mouth is on mine again, and his hand is dug so tightly into my hair, that he's basically pulling my head back as my fingers trip over his erection.

He has a surprisingly strong grip as he wraps his hand around my wrist to stop me. He's looking intently into my eyes as he pulls my wrist toward his bed. He lets go before I hit the mattress, and he slides off his boxers.

I can't look away as he approaches. He comes quickly, and is on top of me before I have time to prepare myself. His cock rests against my thigh as he hooks his thumbs under my panties and pulls them down my legs. He places a surprisingly soft kiss on my hip as he comes back up to look at me. He brushes the hair away from my face and manages a small half smile.

I can't help but giggle. The situation would have seemed ridiculous if it weren't so sexy. He slides inside me slowly, with agonizing gentleness that has me silenced, and biting down on my lip. Once he's all the way in, there's this moment of silent appreciation. It would probably seem beautiful later. Right now, I just needed for him to get on with it.

He begins to pump into me, his hands just below my breasts as I grip his back. I move to his pace and release a long moan as he picks up speed. He's trying to be sweet about it, but I can tell he's losing his composure as the pace becomes more erratic and rough.

He drops his face into the crevice of my neck and drives himself deep into me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and cry out as climax rips through me. As he realizes this has happened, he pushes my shoulders hard into the pillow and holds them there, pushing himself harder into me.

His face is intense, and I can tell he's close. I moan, feeling a second wave approaching, and bite the side of the pillow, burying my face in it. His cock tightens, and I feel his climax approaching just before he explodes into me, bringing on my second orgasm.

He collapses on top of me, and we both lie, out of breath, for what seems like a very long time. We're wrapped around one another, exhausted, sweaty, and filled with affection.

Strangely enough, it turns out that neither of us is concerned with the consequences, or even considering the idea of awkwardness. Rather, the idea of how often we plan to repeat the events of the evening race through both of our minds for less than an hour, at which time, we actually do repeat our irresponsibility.

The only question is why we waited so long. And how we'd tell his sister.


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