Charles moves forward, and steadies himself on hands placed either side of Haytham's hips. He lowers his head, noses at the straining fabric. He breathes deeply, and glances up to meet Haytham's eyes. He opens his mouth, caresses the bulge with his lips, tongue darting out to lick swirls and stripes upon the royal blue cotton.

Charles' gaze is steady, his ice-grey eyes fixed on Haytham's own. His right hand fumbles with the buttons of Haytham's breeches, yanking them down as far as he can while Haytham is still seated like this. Charles' head dips further, and Haytham can feel his mouth, hot and wet, sucking at him through the light fabric of his small clothes, and it's all he can do to stop his hips from jerking forward.

Haytham lets a small moan escape his throat, and Charles' mouth twitches into half a smile for a second. He moves with renewed enthusiasm, lapping with his tongue and scraping with his teeth. Charles unties his small clothes deftly, and applies his mouth to Haytham's flesh proper, taking him in completely.

Haytham sighs contentedly, and runs a hand through Charles' hair. He bobs his head, using his tongue to tease wickedly, sucking in the way he's learnt Haytham enjoys. Haytham cannot help but groan, hips twitching.

"Enough," he says, after one more blissful moment. As enjoyable as this is, the point of tonight is control. There will be plenty of opportunity to fuck Charles' face at some other time. "Smalls off."

Charles hesitates, so Haytham gives a sharp tug on his hair. He slides off with a wet sound, yanks his small clothes off, and watches with baited breath as Haytham rummages in the bedside table for a vial of grease.

"One," Haytham says, pressing it into Charles' hand. He settles back, and unties his own hair, as Charles coats his fingers. Haytham slowly pulls at the buttons of his jacket, and curls his other hand around his cock.

Charles braces himself on one hand, and leans back, reaching down and pressing one finger inside himself. His expression twists with the effort to stay relaxed, and his cheeks are flushing at the sight of Haytham stroking himself to this spectacle. He withdraws the finger slowly, then pushes back in.

"Faster," Haytham murmurs, at the third button down. Charles obliges, sliding his hand faster. When his brow ceases its furrowing, and his breathing grows heavier, Haytham speaks again.

"Two."

Charles reapplies grease to his hand, and obeys, letting out a light hiss. Haytham rewards him with a slight smile. He shucks off his jacket, and undoes his necktie. He traces circles on the head of his cock lazily, relishing the way Charles bites his bottom lip, wanting.

Charles flexes his fingers, stretching as much as he can. Haytham waits until the pain vanishes from his face.

"Three. Go deeper."

Charles lets out a grunt of pain as he forces slicked fingers back in. After a moment, he hisses and his hips jerk, evidently having managed to brush against that sweet spot deep within. Haytham slips his shirt over his shoulders, and works his hand just a little faster. He groans, both from pleasure and appreciation of the sight before him.

Charles' head falls back, and he gives a long, low moan. His breath hitches. Clearly, he is ready for more.

"Stop," Haytham says. "Get off the bed."

Charles looks at him, evidently confused. He complies regardless. Haytham slides down the bed, and lies back. Gives Charles a winning smile.

"Impale yourself."