My Lipgloss is Poppin'

Author's Notes: Even stuck-up boys aren't as high and mighty as they pretend to be. This is especially true of quiet, haughty Charles Eastleigh Callum. (Comedy, for shits n giggles. 2007 words.)

*****

"Eugene!" Charles hissed, glaring at his brother with disdain. "I told you, you can't eat in here!"

"Oh, relax, it's just a little ice-cream!" Gene sighed, licking a fat drop of the melted cream from his wrist before it could drip down his arm to splatter against the seat again.

"Just get a wet wipe and clean it up!" Charles groaned, stopping at the red light and turning to fuss with his twin. "They're in the glove compartment. I mean it, Gene! I put these rules in place for a-"

But Charles had officially lost his brother's attention. Gene hummed quietly to himself, a single eyebrow raising as he grabbed a wipe from Charles' secret stash as a small something fell out of the glove compartment and into his lap. Beside him, Charles had his eyes on the road and was nagging, as usual, blissfully unaware of Gene holding up a small tube of clear lipgloss to his face to peer at it. Vanilla? He squinted at his brother, a small smile forming on his face.

Charles never wore makeup, so why did he have some hidden in his car? He finished his ice-cream cone in one large, obscene swallow and busied himself with absentmindedly dabbing at the upholstery, all while inspecting the little hidden treasure. It was only half full, which meant somebody had been using it. He bit the insides of his cheeks to hold back a giggle and put the tube back under the wipes. He closed the glove compartment, fiddling with the used wet wipe as he watched his brother continue to speak to him like he was a petulant child, and not a grown man. He wondered what Mother would have to say about the lip gloss...

--

Richard knocked on the large doors to his eldest son's study, sitting back with his hands behind his back as he waited for Charles to open the door. A moment passed and nothing happened, he couldn't even hear the scuff of his chair against the carpet. Richard tossed a glance over his shoulder, peering around to see if maybe he was nearby. He wasn't.

Richard slipped inside, feeling a little... Peculiar about invading his son's personal space like this. He had his own office, and understood the importance of having a sanctum to think in, to be alone in where nobody would bother them. But he'd run out of his favorite ink for his fountain pen, and he really couldn't swap pens mid-document! It'd drive him crazy! So, instead, here he was, feeling incredibly ill at ease as he opened up the drawers in Charles' desk, careful not to touch anything he didn't absolutely have to.

Charles was particular like he was when it came to his personal effects, and hated anything out of place or disorganized... His internal monologue came to a halt when something out of the ordinary caught his eye. He puckered his lips, eyebrows raising as he picked it up and held it to the light to see it better, cursing himself for forgetting his glasses on his own desk. He squinted, rolling it between his fingers. It was that sticky nonsense women wore on their lips, he noticed with a sly grin. He untwisted the cap, his nose scrunching at the light coffee scent he found inside. What had Barbara called this particular flavor? Mocha, he thought triumphantly.

He replaced the tube carefully, not missing the implications of finding something clearly not belonging to his son amongst his son's actual belongings. It was obvious Charles had a lady friend! His chest swelled with pride as he grinned, glancing knowingly at the top of the always too-tidy desk. He'd always wondered why Charles preferred as little things on his desk as possible, and, well, now he knew! It was such a bother to pick everything up off the floor after a strike of passion had taken over. Even the most mild-mannered of girls had a habit of knocking everything to the floor when throes of pleasure were involved.

He may not have found the ink he was looking for, but he left with something much better. Pride in his son. Who knew he was such a man!

--

Barbara sang softly under her breath, some horrible, but catchy, rap song she'd heard on the radio earlier. She'd given Landa the day off, too antsy to sit still and let another woman clean her house for her. Richard and Gene had both come to her with tales of strange things they'd found out about Charles, and if truth be told, she was ecstatic. Her little boy, all grown up and hiding a love-interest from them! A girl love interest! Sure, lipgloss was no guarantee that whoever it was would be able to bear her grandchildren, but she had hope!

Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd hidden a lover from his family. It was simply just... What he did. He was a shy young man who valued his privacy, always had, ever since he was a child. They'd only met a few of his past boyfriends or occasional girlfriends in passing, usually by accidentally running into them at art exhibits or car shows. Even then, it was always after they'd broken up, and they only knew that much because Charles would beg them to leave early.

So, naturally, she was pleased for her baby boy. He deserved to be happy, to have somebody to hug him and tell him what a great job he was doing, especially since he didn't let her do it anymore. She was only a little bitter about it, hope drowning out whatever icky feelings she was hiding in her heart.

As long as her Charlie was happy, she was happy! That was why she was in the kitchen in the first place, whipping up a batch of dark chocolate pecan clusters to sneak into his bag. She giggled as she slid a few of the treats into a tiny tupperware bowl, knowing it would be returned to her, completely empty, by the end of the day, despite Charles' insistence that he didn't like sweets.

She trotted to the living room in her heels, pleased to see that he was still out on the wrap-around porch, lounging uncharacteristically on one of the many patio benches with a book in his lap, though his eyes seemed to be closed. She smiled happily as she slid onto the couch and pulled his leather schoolbag into her lap, fighting with the clasps with her acrylic nails.

"Oh, daggumit, ya'll, c'mon!" She groaned, shaking the bag in her frustration. She gasped when the contents spilled out, all the the little buckles and things suddenly deciding to open on their own. She grimaced and glanced out the window, but Charles hadn't moved an inch. She let out a relieved sigh and scolded herself for messing with his things as she picked them up out of her lap and off of the floor. For such a tidy young man, he sure did carry quite a few things with him...

Including a single tube of lipgloss that had popped out of one of the little side pockets inside the lining. She bit back a gleeful shriek as she picked it up, shaking with excitement. She was officially a part of the snooping-through-Charles' things club! She unscrewed the cap and swatched it on the product on the top of her hand, her mouth falling open in an excited grin when it sparkled in the light. She brought it to her face and gave a tentative sniff. Lemons? That's not very sexy, she thought to herself as her tongue flicked out to taste it. Her face puckered up and she shook her head. Lemonade. How her son was able to kiss anyone who tasted sour, she had no idea.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged, Barbie." She scolded herself, tucking the lipgloss back in its little pocket, along with the tiny bowl of treats for her son. She had to remind herself that not everyone enjoyed sugary candy flavors like she did! She caught movement out the corner of her eye and jumped up, Charles finally stirring on the porch, arms above his head as he stretched. She ran back into the kitchen, giggling like a fool as she hid, the lipgloss still on the back of her hand.

--

Charles groaned, his eyes clamped shut in pleasure as his fist slid over his cock, filling the room with the wet sounds of skin on skin. He sank deeper against his bed, a hand palming and rolling his balls gently as heat began to coil, hot and tight, in his belly. He'd been waiting all day to come home and relax, and wasn't wasting a moment of his precious alone time. Between work, classes, and chasing after Gene on campus all week, preparing for their big recital, he hadn't had a moment's peace to indulge himself.

He didn't take himself into his own hand too often, finding it tedious and far too time consuming to make himself come. That is... Until he'd tried a little something different on a whim one night. It'd been mortifying, absolutely scandalous that a twenty-two year old man had stood in the mirror and, out of curiosity, dabbed his mother's peach flavored lipgloss onto his own lips, just to see what it was like to wear it for himself. He'd always loved the feel of it against his mouth when he'd kissed his lovers, the sweet, sticky feeling of it sealing their lips together always made his cock twitch, and it had just made sense to give it a try for himself.

And now it was a dastardly secret he tried to keep hidden. It was terribly improper of him, but he couldn't help it! He loved makeup. Loved it when his boyfriends, girlfriends, anybody that wore it kissed him. He loved the feel of it against his skin, the way it smeared across his lover's face when he dragged his cock over their lips, glitter and precome making their soft skin shimmer and shine in the dim lights.

He shuddered, parting his glossed lips as his cock pumped out more of the slick, clear fluid over his knuckles, further aiding his movements. He was edging himself, trying to prolong his pleasure while he could. Before, it'd take an hour at the least to get off, but with the sweet gloss slicking his lips, making them stick together and smack when he rolled them, it was a struggle to hold on, to not blow his load at the first stroke. He squeezed his cock hard enough for pain to bloom across his skin, and he bit his lips with a whimper, the scent of his newest favorite tickling at his senses, filling his mouth with the taste of fresh strawberries.

He moaned, low and deep in his chest, his voice throaty and desperate as his hand sped up, chasing the pleasure making his toes curl. He'd been at it for some time now, and control was slowly slipping, making him writhe against his own hands. With a soft gasp, his hips lifted up off the bed, thrusting into his fist as his belly began to quiver. Stars danced behind his closed eyes as his release finally broke free, thick ribbons of come shooting out of his cock to splatter against mouth and chin, dripping down his neck and to his chest. He stroked himself through the rest of his orgasm, his breath coming in short, little puffs as his fist milked the last few drops of come from his cock.

He hummed, pleasantly lax against the bed as he licked his swollen, bitten lips. He lapped at the come adorning his mouth before bringing his hand up, sucking his own release from his fingers with a sigh. Hopefully it would hold him over for another week, he thought lazily, eyeing the little tube of lipgloss sitting next to the lube on his bedside table.

*****

Author's Notes (Again): Whoops! A late night jam-session resulted in what is probably the most innocent kink I've ever written about one of my OCs. Also, sorry for my writing style. Yes, it's garbage, but it makes me happy, and I hope it made you smile, at least for a second!