The first
May 22, 2025 at 3:47 PM
They were at Agatha’s house, sitting in the bathroom upstairs, when it happend for the first time.
They both were drunk. Well, Charlie was drunk and Bernard was drunk and high. Of course he was — it was a party afterall. If was Agatha’s friend’s, whose name Bernard couldn’t quite recall, birthday party. They were dancing, playing drinking games; at some point Bernard ended up stuck in a closet with a girl he barely knew for Seven Minutes in Heaven. The girl offered him a blow job, but he declines the offer as politely as he could in that situation. Then, the girl made him take a smoke on a joint she brought, and he got really high, really quick — in fact, he got so high that he almost agreed to go upstairs with this girl, whoever she was, but Charlie managed to rescue him in a strangely caring manner — he made sure that everything from Bernard’s pockets, including his phone and his wallet, stayed in place, and then quietly led him upstairs, whispering something about how careless and umwary he was — right into Bernard’s ear. Charlie’s voice made something in his stomach twist, a chill ran down his spine — and, before Charlie had any time to argue, Bernard was dragging him into a bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind them. He attempted to lean on the sink, but his vision was blurry and sharp with bright clolurs, so he missed and almost fell, but Charlie managed to catch him.
“Berny”, he said condemningly, helping Bernard sit on the floor and leam his back on the outer side of the bathtub “Will you ever try to learn on your own mistakes?”
There was a ringing in Bernard’s ears of how painfully loud Charlie’s low voice sounded; he grimaced, attempting to cover his ears, but Charlie, who already sat down mext to him, cought his hadns and — much quieter now — scolded him:
“Do you know how dangerous it is to get so high in a crowd of people you barely now?”
“But I know you”, Bernard tried to object, but his words sounded weak and shaky. “You were there. You helped me”.
He then realised, that, even if Charlie wasn’t there, he wolde’ve get drunk — and high, if we’re on it now — anyway. And there’d be nobody to save him, to rescue him. He considered that for a moment, then turned to face his friend.
It suddenly dawned on him — only now, when he turned his head — that they were sitting so close that their thighs were touching; when he realised that, the touch all of a sudden was burning hot against the side of his thigh, and he almost let out a weak sigh at the sensation.
“Look… look, I’m sorry”, Bernard said, — whispered — taking Charlie’s hand into his trembling fingers, then almost loosing a grip on it and then finally managing to intertwine their fingers. Charlie’s cool fingers against Bernard’s hot palm felt like a sip of of ice-cold water on a summer day, and Bernard practically whimpered, captivated by a sudden thought of taking Charlie’s fingers into his mouth.
Charlie sighed, tightening his grip on Bernard’s hand, and something in his stomach twisted once again.
“You sholdn’t be”, he said. “I mean, it’s not about you being sorry and not about me rescueing you. It’s just…” he paused for a moment, looked right into Bernard’s eyes, — Bernard, again, almost lost contol of the sounds his troat was producing at the sight of Charlie’s summery sky-blue eyes — then continued. “Can’t you be more careful about where and what you’re drinking? And smoking”, he added. “I’m not joking, Berny. I’m, like, seriously worried about you, d’you understand that?”
Bernard tried to say something in response, something smart, but choked on his words. His face suddenly went comletely red, his body growing hot, heavy — heavy in places, that shouldn’t behave like this near a friend.
Everything he managed to do was to shift a little so that he could reach Charlie’s knee with his free hand.
“That means you… you will always be by my side?” Bernard whispered, leaning closer. Charlie huffed, but didn’t say anything. “Yeah?” he asked again, trying to sit up on his knees, but failing.
“Yeah”, was the last thing Charlie could say before Bernard grabbed a fistfull of his hair and landed a wet, open-mouthed kiss onto his friend’s lips.
There was no coming back from there — Bernanrd knew it, even being as high as he was.
It turned out that Charlie, despite his strange affection for Bernard as his friend, also undestood this. He sat up, shifting to his side, which led to them breaking their kiss, but not for long: soon he was leaning in againg, pressing Bernard into the bathtub’s side.
The kiss was longer now — sloppier, also, and much, much more desperate. Before Bernard had any time to realise, he was curling into Charlie, not kissing — licking his lips, letting out quite, choked-off moans. His friend somehow managed to stay put, holding him tightly so that he wouldn’t slide down the slippery floor.
It was pure madness, Bernard understood, but it felt so, oh, so good, that he didn’t want to stop. Every touch was fire right under his skin, every kiss became a lustful attempt to get as much from it as each of them could — he didn’t want this to end. He wanted… oh god, no, his mind was literally too fucked to think right now.
He felt like he was fucking melting, and a joint that he had smoked several minutes ago was only making it all worse. His body was trembling, his limbs felt like melting jelly and all of the hot open-mothed kisses he was sharing with Charlie were sending sparks of electricity though every part of his body — now this is really seven minutes in heaven.
Soon enough they were grabbing on each other like there was no tomorrow, moaning desperately into the kiss; at some point Charlie stuck a knee between Bernard’s thighs, and he immediately clenched them together, barely holding himself from grinding violently against his friend’s knee. Undressing was only a matter of time — which was a rather comlicated thing to think in Bernard’s current state of mind.
However, Charlie didn’t even attempt to undress him — he just undid his friend’s bealt, his cold hand firmly gripping Bernrd’s cock. He didn’t even stroke it — his hand was just there, and it was enough for Bernard to let out a breathy moan. Why was it so good, felt so hot? Charlie was his fucking friend and, as far as Bernard was aware, friends didn’t usually do this sort of thing.
“Is it okay?” Charlie breathed out, probably realising that he shold’ve asked it before his hand found it’s way into Bernard’s pants. Bernard nodded frantically in response, barely holding himself together. “You like it?”
“Fucking love it”, he whimpered, bucking his hips. “Don’t stop, keep going”, he added and then realised — which was even harder to do now, when Charlie finally got a good grip on him — that it sounded as if he was begging. He was fucking begging his fucking friend to keep going — as if Charlie was going to stop, which — he wasn’t.
And then Bernard thought — which was getting harder and harder for him with every move of Charlie’s hands and lips — that, maybe, just maybe, he wanted this — not because he was high as a fucking skyscraper at the moment, but because this was Charlie who did this to him — who got him twitching, moaning and grabbing on Charlie’s T-shirt in a mixture of pleasure and despair.
Things like “Will we stay friends after this?” and “How would I find it possible to look him in the eyes the next day?” didn’t even try to cross his mind.
And then… Bernard’s orgasm caugt him off guard — he didn’t expect it to be so… fast, and intense, and powerful, and… He was almost whining — it felt like being hit in the stomach, but so good, so right — every cell in his body was thriving for it, begging for it to last as long it could.
“Char- Charlie, please, oh god, it’s so good, you’re so good”, he moaned right into Charlie’s ear, while his orgasm kept going, kept rocking though his body, the intensity of it leaving him sobbing — almost crying — as he pressed into Charlie as if he wanted to melt together with him.
When Bernard’s mind finally settled and came back to earth, he fell right down to the floor, almost hitting his head on the side of the bathtub, feelling his chest rising and falling with his frantic breath. Charlie was looking down at him, smiling; his eyes were full of strange tenderness. It was the last thing he remembered before he blacked out.
