Nick nelson 😍

Before

Chapter 1: before
January Last Year
"Oh fuck."
"Right there!"
"To the left. No, my left."
It's a cacophony of sounds: moans of pleasure, slapping skin, and overlapping instructions sprinkled in with plenty of giggles, groans, and curse words.
Nick feels the thighs on either side of his face begin to quiver. Muscles squeeze around his fingers and he dutifully maintains the rhythm and pressure of his tongue as his friend comes, her release squirting onto his chin and running down his neck.
He knows she'd usually thank him, but her face is currently being used as a seat for another of their pals, and her mouth seems thoroughly occupied. Instead she just hums her approval, the pal on her head giving him a wink before promptly becoming distracted again by their own pleasure. Beside him, another friend is getting railed from behind while swallowing the dick of yet another companion, and the one whose junk is being swallowed is holding a leash attached to a collar being worn by the one doing the facesitting. Elsewhere in the house he hears the faint sounds of paddle on flesh, each strike followed by cries of pain mixed with pleasure.
Nick wipes his chin with his non-messy hand as he sits back on his heels, looking onto the scene with tired amusement. He sighs, knees crackling as he pulls himself off the ground. "Just taking a water break," he says to no one in particular. He doesn't bother getting dressed before walking to the kitchen; everyone here is participating in the orgy anyways, so his nudity really doesn't matter.
He washes his hands, rinses off his face, and takes a long drink from his glass on the counter before opening the fridge to pull out the veggie platter he prepared earlier. Nick loves his play group, loves this little family they've created, loves taking care of them and correcting them and helping them grow into their best selves. He loves them, really he does. It's just that he's so, so bored.

January This Year
Charlie is out of his head. Just like he wanted. No thoughts, just dick.
The one in front is being gentle. The one in back is not. It's doing it for him. But someone needs to touch his cock soon.
He's in the nerve endings there, aching. He's in the sizzle of hands holding his curls, of silk flesh sliding raw on his tongue. He's in the tissue stretched around Ethan's latex, wide hips flapping against his ass cheeks. He's in... his patellas being ground into this coffee table. Damn it.
Finally Sean is flooding his throat and easing out. Charlie hangs his head and swallows and groans. The reedy man drops to his knees and wraps a slick hand around him; Charlie leans against him in gratitude. He and Ethan finish around the same time; after they catch their breath, the big man stumbles off to dispose of the condom and Charlie heads to the loo to clean up.
As he rounds the corner, Sean calls out, "I'll just get all this then!" Charlie shrugs and chuckles and keeps going.
When he returns to the living room, Ethan has apparently already left. Charlie slumps onto the sofa next to his friend; they lean their slender frames together, still naked. Charlie rubs at his eyes.
"That kinda worked; thanks again for setting it up," he mumbles, wanting a cuddle and a nap but knowing it isn't part of the arrangement with the taller man next to him. Sean nods and gives the side of his head a perfunctory kiss.
"Look, I know you don't have much experience with group sex yet but I really think you should come to the Valentine's event I mentioned," Sean begins but Charlie is already rolling his eyes.
"You know my history with that holiday–" Charlie starts to argue. Sean holds up his hands and Charlie subsides.
"All the more reason you need this fresh start, Charlie. Wipe that memory out of your mind," Sean says softly. The blue eyes close; the curly head nods.

May Last Year
"I'm going to miss you," she sighs, looking up at him with her big doe eyes.
Nick smiles kindly at his pal. "I'm just a text away, ma fleur. You've got your timers set on your mobile for meds and water, yes?"
"Oui, Marquis." The rhyming words fall easily from her lips.
"Good girl," Nick replies softly, pressing a kiss onto his flower's forehead. She gives him one last look before turning and walking out the door, leaving him alone in his new flat.
It's taken him time to get here emotionally, but he knows this is the right decision. He had been living in the house with his friends for years; taking care of them, Domming them, fucking them, sometimes dating them. It was good for a while, but never great. He needs a fresh start. Besides, this place is a lot closer to the primary school where he teaches.
Nick had spent his twenties in a series of monogamous relationships that almost always ended in his heartbreak, then his thirties travelling the world and never staying anywhere long enough to set down roots. He's well into his forties now and, while he had loved living with his friends and chosen family, he felt as though it was time to be on his own again.
A few months prior, he had been standing naked in his kitchen, more interested in the hummus he had made than in the orgy that was happening the next room over. "The key to the smooth texture is to hand peel each of the chickpeas before blending them in the food processor," he had tried to explain to one of his pals, but they just looked at him as though he was speaking gibberish.
Looking back on it now, that's when he realised that he was done; his love for his friends hadn't faded, but his passion for that arrangement certainly had.
It had always been difficult to describe to outsiders exactly what his relationships were like with the people in his play group. It wasn't really a polycule, although some of his pals were polyamorous and there was intra-group dating. The key to the smooth texture is to hand peel each of the chickpeas before blending them in the food processor," he had tried to explain to one of his pals, but they just looked at him as though he was speaking gibberish.
Looking back on it now, that's when he realised that he was done; his love for his friends hadn't faded, but his passion for that arrangement certainly had.
It had always been difficult to describe to outsiders exactly what his relationships were like with the people in his play group. It wasn't really a polycule, although some of his pals were polyamorous and there was intra-group dating. e loved the sense of control he got from the obedience of his subs, and the sex he had in those dynamics was initially incredible. As time went on though, he found himself preferring platonic Domming that focused more on the service and care he could provide rather than the orgasms and ego stroke he could receive. He liked helping people become the best possible versions of themselves. He liked watching them meet the goals that they set, always proud of their accomplishments. And, yes, he liked smacking them around and consensually degrading them from time to time. It had taken many years for him to get comfortable with that sadistic part of himself, but eventually he had found a way to honour it, work with it, and create opportunities for healthy, well-negotiated release.
It's not that he wants to stop Domming– he had just started to recognise that he was doing it more for others than for himself lately. He lost his balance somewhere, and he knew that he needed time and space to find it again. School would be out for the summer soon and, for the first time in a long time, he finds himself looking forward to a total lack of plans.

February Last Year
It is clear Ben does not have a plan. Charlie keeps his emotional expression purely internal, however; an eyeroll or a sigh will not get him what he wants, what he needs, right now.
What he needs is release and not just a physical one. This lock on his feelings, this rigid control of every last impulse inside him is the literal opposite of what he's after; he's worked so hard with his therapist, trying to find healthier ways to live. He knows there is so much of existence that can't be managed, that there's power in surrendering to reality. But he wants to submit into the arms of someone who loves him, damn it. To let go with someone real , not whatever the fuck this is.
He sits up and Ben falls back, startled. Charlie shakes his head. "No, this isn't working for me and I don't want to pretend it is. Not anymore. I'm done." As he talks, he's reaching behind himself and unbuckling the ridiculous collar Ben had placed around his neck at dinner like it was the most romantic gesture ever.
What had they been thinking? Charlie knows better; he knows what a collar like this supposed to mean and he knows Ben doesn't mean it. It was just a last ditch effort to keep Charlie in his life.
Charlie had known when he let Ben put it on four hours ago and he knows now. Ben isn't actually in this relationship the way Charlie wants; he never has been and he never will be. Charlie has already spent nearly a year of his time settling for this selfish man's narrow definition of attention and love. Suddenly everything is crystal clear.
"What do you mean, you're done?!" It comes like a whip crack and Charlie shudders. His nerve endings still react to this man, that's for certain. It's why he tried to accept the rest for so long. Charlie takes a deep breath and reaches for his pants and trousers.
Ben picks up the cherry red collar from where Charlie dropped it. "You think you can just take this off? I claimed you! You're mine now!"
Charlie's head snaps back around. "That's not how this works and you should know that!" Ben tries a different tack, leaning forward and angling his chin.
The hair falls just so, the liquid eyes are compelling, the curve from neck to arm just as enticing as ever. And yet... Charlie shakes his head again and picks up his jumper. "I mean it. I am done. We are through."
The wide mouth folds into a cruel sneer. "Where will you even go? It's not like anyone else is going to want you!"
Charlie purses his lips. Off the top of his head, he can think of five men and one nonbinary person who have all made overtures to him in the last year while he's attempted to date Ben exclusively. He shrugs. None of them are perfect either but it certainly helps having evidence of how wrong Ben is.
He tugs on his shoes and grabs his coat. "Thanks for getting the good takeaway. Happy Valentine's Day, I guess." Ben does not return his wry smile; he is still sitting there, naked and holding the collar. The sneer persists.
"You'll be back, begging me for this," he waves the rejected gift at him.
Charlie shakes his head empathically. "I told you, we're through. Piss off."