Charles Smith x Reader

Thirty-Nine

A strange kind of silence hung over the two of you as you lay in the wagon, doors wide open to see the stars and hear the cracking of the fire.

Every now and then the cows mooed, horses neighed or wind chased across the wide land to make the lungs strands of grass rustle.

It was a clam night with an unsettling message. Like the silence before a storm.

Your head rested on Charles' chest. The beating of his heart pressed against your ear, low and calm as if he had been through nights like these plenty before.

His breath filled the silence. Even though his eyes were wide open it seemed like he did not look at anything. He just stared at the ceiling of the wagon.

Unable to find the right words, you raised your hand and drew along his jawline with the tip of your finger. He flinched at the sudden touch but did not complain.

His arm wrapped around you, pushing you closer into his chest. His body was warm and soft.

"How are your wounds?", you breathed into the dark.

His eyes flinched. Lips curled.

"Uncomfortable.", he answered and pressed his free palm onto his collar bone.

"We should change the bandages. Otherwise you could risk an infection."

"Hm.", without another word he let go of you, laying the same way he had on your carpet that very day.

It wasn't a command but permission that, if you wanted to, you were allowed to undress his torso and tend to his wounds. Charles wasn't in the right mind to care for himself at the moment.

And you didn't blame him.

You sat up, carefully opening the buttons of his collar. The blue of his shirt had faded into a dirty grey over the hours, mixed with a few dark stains and dirt.

Surely it would return to its nice blue if washed once but neither of you had anything at hand to do so.

The fabric stuck to the bandages as you pulled the shirt over his head, slowly, as to not hurt him any more than he already was.

A soft grunt escaped him, accompanied by a snort and a twist of his lips.

His hands fell back to his sides. But one found its way to your hip and rested there. It was a soft gesture, as if he needed to feel you in order to know he was safe.

His grip on you flinched as you pushed one of the bandages away to have a look at the wound. As you did so, you leaned over him, far enough for the fabric of your shirt to reveal a deep look inside.

His eyes jumped down for a brief second. Then he looked at your face.

How soft it was. How much he loved to see this slight smile tug at the corners of your lips whenever you tended to him.

Charles had never been a man to ask for help. If people wanted to tag along he just let them. If he felt like it.

But with you things were so different. He didn't need to ask for help. You could just tell whenever he struggled. And then you'd refuse to let him turn you down.

It wasn't persistence, but honest sincerity. And that made him weak. So incredibly weak for you.

All of a sudden his hand reached up to caress your cheek. Struck by the sudden token of his trust you flinched and wanted to pull away.

But he reached into the back of your neck and pull you down on him instead. Your hands rose to push against his chest.

The beating of his heart snuggled into the palm of your hand. With bated breath you locked eyes with him.

Would it be awful of me to ask you for a kiss?", he asked.

Your eyes roamed his face for a moment. Then you leaned down to kiss him. But as you wanted to pull back again he refused by putting pressure on your neck.

Even though Charles could be seen as a soft looking man there was no doubt that he had quite the strength in him. With his eyes digging into your soul he refused to let you go.

"Charles.", you whispered, feeling how his body shifted below yours.

"I want to feel you.", he breathed into the dark all of a sudden, his voice hoarse. "All of you. Your pressure on me. Your gentleness."

You knew what he implied.

"You're still injured.", you noted.

"I don't care. Pain sweetens the sin.", again, he pulled you into a kiss, more heated and demanding this time.

You gave yourself to him, allowed him to take what he craved to fill that voice inside of him. If you could fill it with love and affection so should it be.

As his hand slipped underneath you, you threw your leg across him. How you were floating above him entirely, legs at either side of him, Charles' body in between.

But you did not dare sit down. You were too afraid your weight could cause him even more harm.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips, pushing you down with such force that you couldn't help but release a yelp of surprise.

A low groan made his broad chest tremble. Charles was a large fella, but now that he was halfway undressed below you, you needed to realise that he was, in fact, a man of a giant.

His torso, with a flat stomach and a few hints of visible muscles, was so wide that you needed to spread your legs quite wide to be able to properly sit on him.

So wide, in fact, that you could feel his warm skin press right into your core. Something flinched between your legs and you could feel heat swell.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he pushed you further down. A bulge stroked all the way across your middle.

Your finger curled, nails dug into his sides.

"Charles...", your voice shivered.

"Let me be with you.", he was so desperate to be close to the only person he had ever came to care for.

How could you have denied him that?