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He’ll never get tired of this: Haytham lying under him, naked and pliant. He can’t help himself: he has to caress every inch of him to prove without doubt that he can, that he’s allowed. Haytham is the closest thing to perfection he has ever met, in both body and soul. Charles is convinced that the man could have anyone if he really wanted, but he chose him. He is determined to never make him regret that choice. If, to do so, he has to put Haytham above himself, well, it’s only what he deserves. Charles will do all he can to give Haytham everything.
Every time he gets to touch him is another revelation. The sensation of his lover’s (yes, he can call Haytham that way) skin against his own still seems new, even after all this time.
By now, he knows about the sensitive spot below Haytham’s ear, or how gently stroking that particular area on his right side will infallibly make him beg for more, like the common harlot he could never be.
Haytham loves being kissed. He’ll always melt when Charles manages to get him somewhere quiet. It removes the tension usually present in his frame. It works now as well; his limbs loosen and spread over the bed. His lips are rough, but it’s only another part of what makes Haytham who he is.
Charles breaks the kiss. He relishes the flush that is spreading and the way Haytham’s chest rises and falls as his breathing gets more erratic. "You’re so beautiful." It’s trite, but that doesn’t make it less true. Haytham smiles at him lazily, somehow managing to convey both "thank you, but I already know that", and "would you get on with it?" only by the expression on his face. Charles has to kiss him again. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls away. Haytham’s lips are slightly bruised. He’s marked, Charles’ for the world to see.
Why stop here ?
Haytham’s chest, like every part of him, is a marvel. The man could never stop working or training long enough to allow his muscles to degenerate and it did wonders for him. Watching him going through routines and stretches has always been a guilty pleasure for Charles. Being able to admire from this close still feels like a dream come true.
Charles puts his mouth to Haytham’s pectoral as his hands graze the rest of his chest. He takes his time to acquaint himself again with all the skin presented to him, taking special care to linger on the especially sensitive spots he found during their nights together. He wants Haytham to know he is cherished, because he loses all eloquence before such a spectacle. He stays there, keeping to superficial touches, until he knows all tension left Haytham and he’s ready for more.
His hand finally reaches the center of Haytham’s need, hard under him. He wants this to last longer, and thus makes sure not to push him too far by keeping his touch light enough to be pleasurable but not overwhelming. The fingers of his other hand, covered in oil, caress the soft skin of Haytham’s thighs. Haytham spreads his legs without thinking about it, letting them continue further. Charles finds what he wants and teases the rim. Haytham’s breath hitches. His fingers slide in with ease, Haytham’s body being both relaxed and used to such pleasures. Charles lets himself enjoy the heat surrounding his fingers and the low moans that his touch brings out of Haytham’s perfect mouth.
When he feels that his lover is ready for him, he pulls his digits out and enters him slowly, keeping watch for any sights of discomfort. There are none. He starts trusting carefully. Haytham lets his appreciation be known by way of indistinct noises and tender caresses. Charles realises he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t help telling Haytham how much he loves him, how perfect he is, how tight he feels around him, how he could do this forever. Even when rushing toward orgasm, Haytham still manages to stare at him in an amused but fond way. Charles smiles and tries to hit Haytham’s prostate with every thrust as his hand speeds over his cock. He waits until he feels him tightening further around him and hears him attain ecstasy before allowing himself to follow suit.
He pushes out and verifies he didn’t cause damage. His worries are always pushed aside, but he doesn’t think he could forgive himself if he hurt Haytham. Once satisfied, he sets out to clean the come staining his partner’s belly. Haytham kisses the taste way. He’s languid, tired from their sessions, and allows Charles to fuss like he always wants to, to comb back his hair and hold him to sleep. He even lets the quiet "thank you" go unremarked. Charles is grateful for the respite. He’s still smiling when he goes to sleep, Haytham’s contented face still in his mind.