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“I think I’m dying.”
His eyes are glazed over, staring right through her. Cheeks red. He breathes in deep through his nose, swallows down the snot and residual snow, and then his eyes go even more unfocused. Dee isn’t sure whether to find this concerning or weirdly entertaining (endearing?).
“You’re not dying, Charlie,” she says, pushing his hair out of his face. He’s lying flat on his back on the floor of the back office and she’s kneeling next to him. It’s just after bar close and she found him like this, clearly in deeper than he should be. There’s an empty dime bag on the desk. “You might have overdosed, though, I’m not sure.”
Charlie smiles kind of deliriously and grabs at her, hand landing on her thigh. “You’re—you’re like a princess, you know that? And then—and now ‘m wondering, Dee, why... why do we pay so many taxes? I mean if, y’know, there’s people with so much money. And... snakes. You know about the snakes?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about right now.”
His hand finds its way to her waist and—Jesus, she’s trying not to enjoy it, even a little bit. But she’s only human, goddammit. And there’s always been something about Charlie, his sweet, desperate naivety or the moments he gets so worked up and lets that rage break through... Dee wants to ruin him, or wants it the other way around maybe. His hands around her throat, or chained to the bedposts. Big puppy dog eyes filling with tears as he begs to fuck her.
“...You listening, Dee?”
He’s been talking this whole time. Rambling, high as shit. “Yeah, I’m listening. Uh, Charlie... you got any more coke?” There’s only one thing that’ll make her feel better about this whole mess. And god, is she just burning now with the need to get out of her head.
Charlie grins, and it’s so genuine it makes her sick to her stomach. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got another bag.” Both hands are on her waist now. He tugs (and she goes easy) until he pulls Dee into his lap. “You trying to have some fun?”
She hums, leaning down over him so her forearms rest on the floor on either side of his head. Charlie’s eyes widen in surprise. “How much fun do you think you’re up for tonight?”
“Let me do another line and I’ll let you know.”
“Promise not to die on me.”
He smiles again, and it’s so sweet and sunny Dee can hardly stand it. They end up doing quite a bit of blow, and Charlie still looks a little like he’s dying—but he’s talking, which is a good thing. He’s talking too much, and rambling about Dee and her hair and her tits, and then suddenly his hands are on her tits. And she’s in his lap again.
“I’m pretty high right now,” she says into his mouth, more than a little breathless.
“I know, Dee, I’m like twenty times higher than you.” Charlie is smiling into their kisses, one hand tangled in her hair and the other resting firmly on the small of her back. “And I want you so bad, oh my god...”
“Shut up,” she mutters, getting a hand between them and groping at his dick. She’s not sure if he’ll be able to get it up like this, but shockingly, she feels him starting to get hard. “God, you—you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to... drag you in here and make you fuck me ‘til I’m screaming.”
Charlie’s eyes flutter and roll back a little. He’s grinding into Dee’s ass now, holding onto her hips and using that as leverage. “Yeah? You—you thought about me?”
The room is spinning around her and everything is moving slow-fast-faster, a kaleidoscope (how much blow did she do? Jesus.) “Thought about this since high school.” His face is going pale again, not good, but she gets Charlie’s pants down anyway. He’s moaning and whining still, which is a good sign; means he’s not dead.
Dee grabs the bag off the floor and dips her finger in, getting just enough powder under her nail and shoving it up her nose. Shit, she always forgets how good it feels. And there’s Charlie, all wide-eyed even with his pupils totally pinned, and looking so debauched and desperate that she wants to have her way with him until he’s begging and worshipping her. (Maybe she does have a bit of a complex, like her brother.)
She ends up riding him, both of them screaming so loud it’s a good damn thing they’re closed and no one else is in the bar. Charlie holds onto her for dear life, eyes rolling back—he's so out of it, but he’s still hot and hard inside her. Dee mewls, angling Charlie’s cock so it hits the perfect spot inside her every time. Fuck, this is ecstasy. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she bounces up and down, using him to chase her pleasure.
"Tell me I'm good," she demands. "Tell me you love this."
"You're good, fuck, you're so good," Charlie moans. "Oh my god Dee, please..."
Charlie bites down hard on her shoulder when he comes, and god, she hopes it’ll bruise. He finishes inside her (goddammit), filling her up in hot spurts; Dee is torn between wanting to punch Charlie in the teeth and being so turned on she can’t see straight. The latter wins out, and she grinds down on his softening cock a few more times while rubbing her clit, reaching her own orgasm. It feels like a thousand bolts of lightning, drawing the most embarrassing noises from her... and then zapping her energy so she collapses on top of Charlie and ends up kissing his neck until he can form words again.
“Wow. That... that was good,” he says, a little slurred and breathless.
Dee hums, teeth nipping at his chest. She almost feels ready to go again, especially with the way she can feel Charlie’s come dripping out of her. But he’s got that dazed expression again, so he might be useless for the rest of the night (unless she can hold his fingers still at the right angle...) “You’re good. Jesus, Charlie, you better remember this tomorrow because this is not the last time we’re doing this.”
His lips find hers and he kisses her so sweetly, arms splayed on her back, holding her close. “Yeah. Yeah, anything you say, baby.”