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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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.

[Right. Pants. He'd kind of forgotten about those existing, for the moment, being too busy with his teeth and the little shifts of his hips, but he's pretty sure he can oblige the request to get rid of the pants. He doesn't like these jeans anyway, and is absolutely certain that he looks ridiculous in them -- which is remarkably unfair, considering that Charlie manages to pull off the style quite well.

With an uncharacteristic lack of coordination, he unbuttons and unzips his pants, and then rolls off of Charlie for a moment to tug them all the way off. They end up tangled around his feet, and he kicks them to the floor with a muttered curse, irritated by the break in physical contact with Charlie. As soon as they're off, though, he's back, more kisses and more touching, still trying to determine whether Charlie's hurt anywhere and hiding it.]

[He can't help but find it funny when Meyer gets tangled in his pants, and the pause it takes for him to laugh means his own trousers are only half-off by the time Meyer straddles him again. Buy hey, that's all it takes, right. A hand trails down Meyer chest, wrapping around his cock as they continue to kiss.]

[He has a vendetta against these pants, really. He'd wear his trousers every day if he could, but they'd get ruined, and he's more practical than that. Still, it doesn't bother him when Charlie laughs at him; it only makes him laugh in response, a simple enough reaction, but something that he's inordinately grateful to have the ability to do -- Charlie can always make him laugh, even at the most ridiculous of situations.

He's not sure if it's just the fact that they've been apart for four days and there's been a huge amount of uncertainty about whether he'd see Charlie again that makes Charlie's hand feel so damn good, but whatever it is, he's not necessarily going to question it. Instead, he's just going to return the favor, fingers sliding over Charlie's skin, liking how smooth it is, before taking a firm grip on him as well.]

Fuck, Meyer.

[His kisses are wet and uncoordinated by now, landing half on Meyer's lips and half on his chin and cheek and everything else he can reach.]

God I wanna be in yous right now.

[The noise he makes when Charlie says that is somewhere between a hiss and a moan -- a strange noise, but either way, it's appropriately expressive for just how hearing that makes him feel. Funny, four or five years ago he'd've never thought that hearing anyone say that to him would get him feeling so damn desperate and aroused, but the moment Charlie says it, he's demandingly rolling his hips again, returning the kisses in an equally uncoordinated fashion, nodding quickly.]

I want it too.

[And there's that goddamn blush again, spreading from his cheeks onto his neck and chest. It'd be funny if it weren't so embarrassing.]

[Charlie is glad to find the lube is where they left it, in arm's reach in the drawer next to the bed. He slicks his own cock first, fingers bumping into Meyer's, before reach in behind him to start circling Meyer's entrance.]

I fucking loves it when you talk like that, Meyer.

I love it when you...

[How the hell does he even finish that sentence? There're a lot of things he loves that Charlie does, one of them being talking like that. He knows he isn't nearly as good at it as Charlie is, but occasionally he tries, just to see if he can, just to see if he can please Charlie the way Charlie pleases him. As soon as he feels Charlie's fingers, though, he abandons that train of thought and moves onto another.]

Please, I want it.

[At other times, the inclusion of the word 'please' would be entirely a calculation on his part, more like a game than anything else, when Charlie tries to get him to beg and he tries to resist. Right now, though, there's nothing artificial about it. He wants him desperately, shamelessly.]

[Charlie can sense the change. Usually it's playful between the two of them, sometimes even bordering on the side of violent, but always with that vein of fun underneath. But the way Meyer's speaking right now - it's raw and open in a way he's not used to.

Charlie takes a sharp breath in, and all but whispers Meyer's name on the exhale. Even if he had the power to, he would never turn down a request like that.

Breathing hard, he lines himself with Meyer and slowly lifts his hips to slide in.]

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