Slightly NSFW content ahead.
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  As soon as their lips met, Oliver felt the highest he had ever felt. His mind was abuzz, unable to conjugate coherent thoughts. All he could register was Charlie. The warmth of him. The closeness.

They stumbled into the wall as they kissed, clumsy and urgent. Oliver's hands slipped under the hem of Charlie's shirt and tugged it upward, barely thinking before pulling it over his head. Charlie responded instantly, fingers tightening in Oliver's mahogany locks.

Then, suddenly, Charlie pulled back.

"Um," he said, nervous energy flickering across his face.

Oliver frowned, his confidence draining almost instantly. "Why did you stop?"

Self-consciousness rushed in, loud and unforgiving. Had he misread everything? Was he too much? Too eager? Did Charlie find him disgusting?

Charlie reached for his discarded shirt. "We're really drunk, Ol. I don't want you doing something you'll regret."

"I won't," Oliver said quickly.

Charlie shook his head. "You don't know that."

Before Charlie could pull the shirt on, Oliver stepped forward, stopping him. His hands settled at the back of Charlie's neck, warm and steady.

"I want this," Oliver said quietly.

Charlie hesitated. "Oliver..."

Instead of arguing, Oliver leaned in again, kissing him softly. Not rushed this time. He traced a slow path along Charlie's cheek, his jaw, his neck, repeating the truth like a promise. "I want this."

Charlie exhaled, the tension leaving him all at once. He kissed Oliver back, tentative at first, then deeper. Oliver's shirt was gone next, and Charlie's attention followed, mouth warm against Oliver's skin.

"Charlie," Oliver breathed, gripping the edge of the console table as his knees weakened.

Charlie felt like everything Oliver wasn't but wanted to be. Effortless. Unburdened. Untethered from rules and labels. He lived in the moment and didn't seem afraid of where it might take him.

They ended up on the bed without either of them remembering how. Oliver felt overwhelmed, floating, like he'd stepped into something inevitable.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

♢ ♢ ♢

Oliver lay staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he tried to slow his breathing.

"I can't believe that just happened," Charlie said beside him.

Oliver turned his head, and without warning they both started laughing. Charlie tossed his shirt at him, and Oliver used it to wipe his chest.

"Hey," Charlie said gently, poking his shoulder. "You okay? You went quiet."

Oliver smiled. "Yeah. I am."

"You sure?"

Oliver reached out and cupped Charlie's cheek. "Don't worry about me. That was... incredible. Unexpected, but incredible."

Charlie turned his head and kissed Oliver's palm. "Yeah. I agree."

"And honestly," Oliver added, "It feels like it's been a long time coming."

Charlie shifted. "Okay. There's something I should probably tell you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh."

"Do you remember Ivan's party?"

Oliver laughed. "Barely."

"You and I... we kissed that night too."

Oliver sat up. "We did?"

Charlie nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "You were very drunk. Very high. I didn't think you remembered, so I never brought it up."

A strange mix of disappointment and intrigue settled in Oliver's chest. "I was with Nora."

Charlie winced. "I know. I'm not proud of it."

Silence stretched between them.

"Was it... good?" Oliver asked, quietly.

Charlie huffed a laugh. "Messy. Sloppy. Rushed."

Oliver nodded, absorbing it. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I thought you'd be disgusted," Charlie said. "You're straight."

Oliver shook his head. "I don't think I am. At least, not entirely. I don't want to label it. I just know that kissing you feels... right."

He leaned down and kissed Charlie again, slower this time. Charlie pulled him closer, smiling into the kiss.

"I think that girl from the casino was right," Charlie murmured when they broke apart.

"About what?"

"You being a ten-out-of-ten kisser."

♢ ♢ ♢

Oliver woke to an empty space beside him. Morning light flooded the penthouse, harsh and unforgiving.

"Morning," Charlie said, walking in with coffee.

Oliver reached for it immediately and downed half the cup.

"Hey," Charlie protested. "I was drinking that."

"Too slow," Oliver smirked.

Charlie flopped onto the bed with a groan. "I spilled a drink on my vintage Nikes. Tragic."

"You could wash them," Oliver said dryly.

"Blasphemy."

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "Hey. Are you okay? Like... really."

"I am," Oliver said. "Last night helped more than you know."

Charlie leaned in and kissed him gently.

Then his phone rang.

Charlie glanced at the screen and frowned. "Unknown number."

"Don't answer," Oliver said lazily, kissing his neck.

"I have to," Charlie sighed. "Hello?"

Oliver continued kissing him, amused by how flustered Charlie became. Charlie jumped and shoved Oliver away, laughing. "Hello?" He repeated.

  His smile faltered. "Oh. I think you've called the wrong Kingsley."

  Oliver sat up. "Who is it?"

  His brows knitted together. "No, that's not Spence," He replied to someone on the phone. "You know who it is, Nor..."

  Oliver's heart dropped. "Nora?" He reached to grab the phone off him.

  "Nora? Hello?"

  The line went dead.

  "Why didn't you give me the phone?" Oliver snapped.

  "She didn't want to talk to you, Ol."

  "That doesn't matter!"

  The mood shattered almost instantly.

  "She didn't ask for you. I didn't even know it was her at first."

  "But you knew I'd want to talk to her," Oliver shot back. His voice was rising, sharp with something that sounded uncomfortably close to panic. "You knew."

  Charlie's expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face. "I thought you were happy. You said you were."

The word happy landed wrong. It felt like an accusation.

  Oliver laughed, short and humorless. "What, did you think this meant something?" He said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "That we're... what, together now?"

Charlie frowned. "No, that's not what I meant-"

Oliver slammed his hand down on the mattress, frustration vibrating through him. He felt out of control, like he was watching himself ruin something good and unable to stop.

  "Just call her back," He demanded. "Right now."

    "No," Charlie said quietly.

  The silence that followed was thick and charged, both of them breathing hard. Oliver knew, even as the last of his anger burned out, that he had crossed a line. And once again, he had no idea how to step back over it.

  Charlie stood abruptly. "I'm done. I need to go."

"Wait," Oliver said, panic rising. "Don't."

Charlie pulled away before quickly leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

And then he was gone.

The silence afterward was deafening.

Oliver stood alone in the penthouse with that familiar certainty that he had ruined everything.

♢ ♢ ♢

  Back in Manhattan, Oliver stumbled into his apartment and poured bourbon before even turning on a light.

He collapsed onto his bed, then found the pills. Took one without thinking.

  Eventually, he found his phone and opened his messages.

He would send one text. Short and sweet.

  'I'm going to Madeline's rehearsal dinner. I really hope I see you there. We should talk. -Oliver'

He stared at the screen long after sending it, wondering who he was really hoping would answer.

♢ ♢ ♢

Hi guys! Apologies for the late update!

There are currently not one but TWO fan-made playlists for the opulence series. One on Spotify by natxliie called 'opulence is not copious' and one by tropicszn on Apple Music by the name 'anjalixneha' called 'opulence'. They're both amazing SO CHECK THEM OUT!!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know a lot happened in it so I hope y'all didn't find it too rushed or anything.

Take care of yourselves. I hope everyone is staying safe.

With lots of love,
-hexed
xoxo