cape_kore | video; Day 101

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video; Day 101

[Hello, sweet cape dwellers. Did you miss this particularly obnoxious curly Italian gangster? No? Too bad, because here he is far too close to your screen, clutching his head like he has the hangover of a century. The footage is spotty, the audio coming in and out and the video often out of focus, but what's abundantly clear is that Charlie's back, and not entirely pleased about it.]

Fuckin-

Jesus, what the fucking hell is this-

will someone get me-

[At last the video clears enough to show Charlie, looking angry but unharmed, somewhere on the waterfront.]

Someone tell me what the -

going on?

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[He maps Meyer's skin with his hands, curling his long fingers around Meyer's ribs before running up to card through his chest hair.]

Can I fuck you right now?

[Meyer always gives him crap for asking, but maybe he just loves the way he blushes bright red every time he does.]

[If he rolls his eyes slightly, it's not necessarily in response to Charlie's question -- it's more in response to his own blush. He'd've thought that after knowing Charlie for twelve years, and knowing how he always tries to make him flustered, it would have stopped working by now. That's not the case. It's just another talent of Charlie's, and a pretty damn impressive one, at that. It still makes him tug on Charlie's hair a little, just because he can.]

Yeah, you can.

[He props himself up on one elbow to readjust his positions, trying to take some pressure off of his ribs. He hasn't been able to find a comfortable position sitting, standing, or lying down in weeks, but he's not going to let that get in the way of this.]

You alright?

[Don't think he doesn't know what that face means. Although it's still not going to stop him from starting to undo Meyer's fly for him.]

Sure, just sick of being injured.

[He knows from experience how long broken ribs can take to feel normal again. It feels like it's been months since he's been injured, but in actuality, not much time has passed at all. He's impatient, though, and he tugs Charlie up for another kiss.]

[Charlie's only too happy to oblige, pressing their chests flush together to kiss him back, maybe a little more frantic and dirty than before.]

[Frantic is fine by him. It reflects the way his thoughts have been racing for days. Charlie finally being here is at once calming to his overwhelming anxiety and also extremely exciting. He bites at Charlie's lip, trying not to bite too hard, still convinced, somehow, that Charlie's hurt in some invisible way that he doesn't want to exacerbate. There's still a certain care and precision in his movements, like he's concerned Charlie is breakable, even if he can see for himself that he's unhurt.]

[Charlie bites back, harder than Meyer had. Because hey, he made be treating him like fucking glass but he'd rather he didn't and nothing better than leading by example.

His hand finds his way inside his trousers and places a firm hard on top of his underwear.]

[Honestly, that's a pretty damn good way to spur him into being a little more aggressive in his movements. He's always been competitive, and he can't resist nipping back at Charlie, just a bit harder, grinning as he does so. Of course Charlie doesn't want to be treated like he's breakable -- who the hell would?]

Pretty certain this is my favourite ways of looking at yous.

[He trails a few more kisses down his chest before leaning up to shimmy his trousers off.]

Best view in the world, I thinks.

[Compliments have always be a surefire way to get him to turn a little red with embarrassment, and this is no exception, but he smiles anyway, pleased.]

I'm not exactly complaining about the view I have, either.

[He's always enjoyed looking at Charlie, even before there was necessarily anything like attraction attached to it. They're built so differently, and he really feels like he could stare at Charlie forever, noticing and appreciating all of those differences. Right now, though, staring isn't enough. Charlie's back, but there's no guarantee that he'll stay here, no guarantee that any of them will stay here, so he might as well make the best of it. That's why, even as Charlie's taking his trousers off, he's reaching up to touch whatever bare skin he can.]

[He can't help it - he's always been putty in Meyer's hands. He may have got his trousers off, but he's taking a break to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in hard.]

[He probably smells more like himself than he has in the last couple weeks here; since Charlie'd disappeared, he'd kind of given up on rationing the cigarettes, and very likely smells like smoke, as usual. For a moment, he's content to run his fingers through Charlie's hair, but then he winces a little as Charlie's face gets too close to the still-tender spot on his collarbone, and he shakes his head.]

We need to roll over or something, you're crushing me.

[Yes, blame it on Charlie being heavy rather than blaming it on the fact that he has broken ribs and not-so-minor injuries. He has his pride.]

Come on, I ain't even that heavy.

[Although its obvious from the way his face screws up in a wince that he feels bad about it. He sits up on his haunches, and combs his too-long hair back off his face.]

Bedroom?

You weigh more than I do.

[Barely. But grateful for the suggestion, he nods.]

Bedroom.

[And then remembers what a mess he'd left the bedroom. For all he'd done to clean up the front room, there're still liquor bottles all over the bedroom floor, and possibly in the bed. That encourages him to amend his statement.]

As long as you don't give me shit about the mess.

Since when I ever give you shit about nothing, Meyer? Come on, my feelings are hurt.

[He gives Meyer a hand up, trying to keep a sharp eye for any more of those little winces that tell him Meyer's in more pain than he's letting on.]

Yeah, you're right. You never give me shit.

[He hopes his laugh can disguise the way he cringes a little at moving from a lying down position to a standing one, but he's pretty sure Charlie'll be as observant as ever. He hasn't exactly taken care of himself while Charlie was gone -- he's still got those aching knuckles like he'd punched something, but he can't specifically remember it. Once he's up, though, he's able to move with more ease, heading back towards the bedroom.]

[He does notice, because of course he notices, Meyer can't hide shit from him. So he corners him about half way to the bedroom to kiss him again, making sure to only hold onto him lightly this time.]

[Standing up seems to work a hell of a lot better than lying down, and frankly, Charlie could hold him as tightly as he wanted, even if it hurts. He's just glad to have him back. That's why his responding kisses are almost frantic, like he wants to make up for lost time -- even if it had only been four days. It had felt much longer.]

[Don't let Charlie know that, he'll be angling for wall sex. As it is, he just grins stupidly into Meyer's mouth, mumbling a little between kisses.]

Need any helps getting on the bed?

[He laughs, kisses Charlie once more, and then begins shoving him back towards the bedroom.]

I think I'm capable of getting on the bed. I'm not that injured.

[He's also capable of shoving Charlie onto the bed, which he does. It's easier than lying down himself, after all, and it gives him an excuse to see Charlie all spread out beneath him.]

Ever told yous you get kinda hot when yous is all worked up?

[Charlie has never been secretive about how much he likes it a little rough, after all. And from the way he's grinning up a storm on the bet it's probably obvious now, too.]

I seem to recall you saying that once or twice.

[There's worked up in the good way, and worked up in the bad way. Luckily, he'd gotten the "worked up in the bad way" out of the way when Charlie had been gone. He's pretty sure that hadn't been attractive in the least bit. He dismisses any thoughts of those four days from his mind for the moment, kicks an errant liquor bottle under the bed, and moves to straddle Charlie, hands on his shoulders, leaning down for a kiss.]

[Jesus, Meyer, you coulda saved some of the booze for him.

Not that he can complain much now. Hands grip firm onto Meyer's ass when he straddles him, holding him down as hard as Meyer's holding him.]

[If Charlie wants it, there's booze around. More than there'd been when Charlie had disappeared, at least. Somehow, though, he doesn't really think either of them are looking for alcohol at the moment. Maybe later. Right now, he just feels the need to kiss Charlie hungrily, then break the kiss for the sake of biting at his neck, his collarbone, rough and demanding. He's trying hard not to leave marks, because these clothes they're stuck wearing here don't cover them up nearly as much as their clothes back home, but it's hard not to leave little red marks where his teeth meet Charlie's skin, just as it's hard not to roll his hips against Charlie's lap as he straddles him.]

[Keeping their marks covered up is the last thing on Charlie's mind right now. His breath is coming deep and uneven now, interspersed with little gasps when Meyer's teeth sink in. He's hard in his trousers already, and the was Meyer is rocking into him is not helping the matter. With all his self control he winds his fingers into Meyer's hair to pull him back.]

Come on, get your fucking pants off.

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