cape_kore | video; Day 101

[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.]

[He knows he's coming across as desperate and needy, knows that he's probably behaving in an uncharacteristic and bizarre way, but there's very little he can do about it. Where other people might seek affection, this is what he needs, and he doesn't even bother to restrain his long low moan as Charlie sinks into him.

Nails digging into Charlie's chest a little harder than they probably should, he begins to move almost immediately -- not quickly, but with purpose, rolling his hips slowly, closing his eyes, just focusing on this and nothing else.]

[He's not going to complain about Meyer acting off when it feels this fucking good to be inside him.]

Jesus fucking-... Meyer.

[He's running his hands over everything he can reach - over his shoulders and down his chest, tweaking a nipple on the way down, and finally to rub the skin just under his belly button.]

[He leans into the touches, wanting the feeling of Charlie's hands everywhere, because the more he feels that, the less he thinks about anything else. Speeding up the pace just a little, he can't help but lean forward and bury his face in Charlie's shoulder, even if his ribs scream in protest at the awkward position.]

Charlie...

[He says his name with all the reverence that one might say "oh god" with, except that he never says anything like that, and Charlie's name is a whole hell of a lot more important anyway. It's somewhere between a curse and a plea, from the sounds of it. He's not exactly sure what he's pleading for, though.]

Yeah, I'm here.

[Fingers tangle into Meyer's hair, pulling him close enough to kiss. He loves it when they're like this, as close as two people can get. Meyer would call him a sap for thinking that way, but so what, he's a fucking sap sometimes.]

[Charlie is a sap, undeniably, but Meyer'd be hard-pressed to claim that he didn't appreciate it. He's chronically incapable of being a sap himself, but as he presses as close to Charlie as he can, ignoring the pain in his ribs and focusing on kissing him instead, still moving with that slow, deep rhythm, he can feel all kinds of sappy things pop into his mind and threaten to come out of his mouth. Instead of allowing them to, though, he bites Charlie's lower lip, fingers combing through his hair, trying to let his mind go blank again. There are just certain things that go unsaid.]

[He starts snapping his hips up with the rhythm Meyer's set, pushing into him just that little bit deeper.]

God, I wanna feel all of you.

Pretty sure... you've got... just about all of me.

[His words come out in amused little huffs of breath, interspersed with a couple moans when Charlie thrusts particularly deeply. He's trying hard not to pull too hard on Charlie's hair, to reign in his desperation, to not be as rough as he knows he's capable of being at the moment, but it's damn difficult. Self-restraint is one of his talents, but lately, he seems to be less restrained than normal. It must be being stuck in this place. He gives a particularly bruising bite to the swell of Charlie's shoulder.]

Maybe. Just abouts.

[He surges up on the bed, still buried as deep inside Meyer as he can get, wrapping his arms around him so they're both sitting. He loves feeling their chests pressed together, the way their breaths mingle in a barely-kiss. One hand comes down to grip on Meyer's ass, giving him a little push of encouragement to keep moving.]

[He's glad Charlie doesn't grab at his back, because those wounds from getting mauled are still very much there, and they're painful as hell. They know each other's bodies well enough, though, that he knows that even without consciously thinking about it, Charlie can intuit what will and won't be comfortable for him. It makes him feel safe, which isn't a feeling he regards lightly. That's why the little push of encouragement makes him move a bit quicker, and that's also why he chooses not to respond to Charlie's comment at all, instead just pressing his face into Charlie's shoulder, holding him as tightly as he can, like he's trying to absorb him entirely. His breathing is harsh and ragged, and his eyes are closed tightly.]

[He closes his eyes too, both hands firm on Meyer's hips as they rock together. It's all down to this - the feeling of Meyer's skin, the smell of him, the weight of him on his lap and the feeling of him wrapped around his cock - they're the only sensations is the world right now. He bites back a groan of disappointment when he feels the tell-time sign of heat pooling in his belly because as much as he knows it can't, he wants this to go on forever.

Not that he's gonna slow down. Not when it feels as damn fucking good as this.]

[He doesn't expect this to go on forever, but he'd sure as hell like it to. This is so much easier than anything else, and that's saying something, for someone who turns pink in the cheeks at the mere mention of sex. His cheeks might be a little flushed now, but that probably comes down to the exertion more than anything else, the way it feels to be moving in Charlie's lap. His teeth are sunk into Charlie's shoulder, trying desperately hard to stop himself from being pushed over that edge because he wants to draw as much out of this as he can. The only noises he's making are quiet, almost whimpers.]

Meyer-

[He can feel that tense of muscles, feel it in the way Meyer is biting at him like he's holding something back. hand comes between them to wrap around Meyer's cock because dear god, if he's going down he's taking Meyer with him.]

Come on.

[There's one thing he's never been able to resist, and that's Charlie talking to him, coaxing him; any time Charlie wants to get anything out of him, he pretty much can, no matter what that something is. Right now that something is very obvious, and all it really takes is the combination of Charlie's hand and his voice to give him that tiny shove over the edge that he needs.]

Fuck.

[It's a quiet whisper into Charlie's shoulder, punctuated with a bite that's surely going to leave a bruise, but even though he's barely making any noise at all, it should be obvious from his face and the way that he moves and tenses that the orgasm is hitting him hard, almost taking him by surprise.]

[Oh christ. He's so close to the edge himself, but he has to hold out, has to hear every little noise Meyer makes and every twitch of his muscles as he comes.]

God you're fucking beautiful.

[He barely gets to murmur it into Meyer's skin before he's coming to, stilling inside Meyer's body and breathing hard into his hair as it washes through him and into his toes.]

Fuck.

[It takes some effort to pull his face away from Charlie's shoulder, to pull back enough to look into his face -- and there's no way he's getting off of his lap yet, because that would require a type of energy he doesn't seem to possess at the moment -- but he manages, somehow. Being called beautiful always does strange things to him. He doesn't think he is. Most people don't. But Charlie does. It's odd, that that matters so much.

He strokes Charlie's hair almost affectionately, some of the tension gone from his face.]

I missed you.

[It's not exactly what he wants to say, and it sure as hell comes out sounding sappier than he meant it to, but it'll have to do.]

video; Day 101

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