Work Text:
It's so subtle, I'm in trouble
~Marvin Gaye, Charlie Puth
The gang had a very strange opinion of Charles.
He was both odd and not odd at the same time. He was quiet, withdrawn, one to only speak if spoken to, so definitely one of the least strange members of the gang. But he had a nasty tendency of catching folk in their embarrassing moments, of being right there when you tripped and fell on your ass, when one of the horses bit you on your rear, when you missed the wood you were chopping and toppled onto your face. So… very odd.
But overall shared opinion was that he was not odd, seeing as he kept to himself, worked hard, didn’t cause any fuss unless someone else started it (or, of course, unless they went after you).
So when you sit on his lap, your skirts hiding your legs, nobody thinks anything of it. He cradles your waist in one hand, the other kneading your thigh, and you allow your head to rest against his chest, blinking blearily at the campfire, glad for its light that hides the colors of your face, else your flush would surely give you away.
Your movements are slow, barely there. A small rock on his part, a tiny grind on yours. Just the barest movement, as much as you dare with Sean and Hosea, Arthur and John around the campfire with you. Charles is staring blankly at the campfire, looking two seconds from falling asleep much like you, and if it weren’t for the kneading of his hands you’d think him wholly unaffected.
You yawn a sign, burying your face into his chest as he grinds into you just right, pleasure shooting up your spine, praying they can’t see the shudder that runs through you, though surely Charles can feel it, risks another rock of his hips to press against the same spot again, and you take his shirt in your teeth to keep from giving yourself away with a very obvious noise. ‘Damn you to hell Charles,’ and he knows what he’s doing, rubs his thumb in circles on your thigh before tapping it to remind you ‘shhh’.
You’ll shhh him, you think, and clench pointedly around his cock.
He tenses, grip on your waist tightening almost to the point of pain, dipping his head to kiss your shoulder in a way that could be wholly innocent if it weren’t for the way that he tilts his head to rest his chin on your shoulder afterwards, breath ghosting your ear as he risks muttering into it, trusting Javier’s music to cover up his words, “We’re going into town in the morning.” he rolls his hips, and you bite down on his shirt, “and I’m going to rent a room at the hotel,” another roll after looking around to make sure no one was paying any attention, “and we’re going to make good use of it all day.” he tangles his fingers in your skirts, tugs at them playfully, “I’ll throw you down on the bed, make you come over and over and over until you can’t see straight.”
You clench around him, forcing yourself not to shudder or make a sound.
“Pin you down, fuck you with my tongue, my fingers, my cock, fill you up like I know you need,” he rolls his hips, punches a gasp out of you that’s smothered by his shirt, everyone none-the-wiser, “make you come with my cock alone, nothing else, over and over until you’re ruined, until you can’t walk straight, until your voice is so ruined you can’t talk anymore.”
You grind your hips down, “Mark you all up, take all your scarves and handkerchiefs. Everyone’ll know you’re mine.”
That does it and, without moving in his lap, you come.
He kneads your waist as your press your face into his chest, closing your eyes and sinking your teeth so hard into your tongue you taste blood to keep from making a sound, only his arm around you keeping you from writhing and definitely giving you two away.
Your walls clench around him rhythmically, and he comes, digging his fingers into your waist as he begins to throb inside of you, filling you with his cum.
You slump against him as pleasure runs up your spine in zaps and tingles, milking his cock as he shudders, surreptitiously watching the others but they're busy watching Javier play, dipping his head so his hair hides his face as he nips at your neck, pulling a final shudder out of you as you blink blearily at the campfire, exhaustion quickly beginning to weigh down your bones.
Charles hesitates - neither of you had really thought of what to do after. He can't exactly pull out, lifting you off of his lap would be horribly obvious and would make an awful mess besides, so finally he just pulls you close and lets you doze off against him, enjoying your warmth on (and around) him.