Charlie was second-guessing himself the moment he kissed Oliver's cheek. They didn't do that. That wasn't a thing that they had ever done. And it didn't matter that Oliver's letters to Higgs were burning a hole in his pocket. Or that Charlie had started finding a name for the warm, fluttering feelings in his stomach when he'd seen those pictures of Oliver with his shirt off.
Because he wasn't doing this. He'd decided that, hadn't he? Oliver was used to sex. Lots and lots of sex. And Charlie...wasn't sure, at all. Didn't know if he'd ever want sex, really. Cheeks flaming, he was all ready with an excuse for the kiss - but then Oliver's lips were brushing his, and Charlie forgot how to think for a second.
"Oh," he said, very softly. "Um." He was a little cross-eyed, trying to look at Oliver. His arms were still wrapped around broad shoulders, feeling every breath Oliver took against his lips.