kore_logs | (no subject)

He's not about to answer that question in a completely straightforward way, because it would sound far too close to begging for his taste, and no matter how good Charlie is at making him relax a little, making him say things he wouldn't normally say, he has a bizarre sense of dignity even in a situation like this one, where he really shouldn't be worried about it. So instead, he just bites his lower lip, harder than he'd meant to, to suppress some of the pleasure before responding.

"Just fuck me already, okay?"

"God you're bossy when I got my fingers up your ass." But it's not like he's not going to do it. He free his fingers and wipes them on the sheets (Meyer can complain later), then uses the free hand to lift up Meyer's thigh enough to give him a good angle.

He doesn't even try to hold back the groan as he sinks in. It feels too damn good for that, like his whole day had been building up to this. His head is thrown back as eyes closed as he just loses himself in the sensation of sinking himself slowly into that tight heat.

"Fuck."

He's not going to even dignify that comment with a response, mostly because his response, if he were being entirely truthful, would probably be something along the lines of "I'm always bossy." It's true; it's a permanent state of being for him, especially around Charlie, who he takes great pleasure in bossing around, even -- or perhaps especially -- in situations like this. He doesn't need anyone else to tell him he's a control freak; he's perfectly aware of it, and finds it to be a generally excellent way of life.

Still, it's hard to be as much of a control freak as he usually is when Charlie's pressing into him like that. One of his hands immediately grips Charlie's arm hard, needing to hold onto something, not particularly caring what he grabs onto, while the other hand seems to have a death grip on the sheets. If he were inclined to say anything at all -- which he's not, since he seems to only be capable of groaning, at the moment -- he'd just be repeating Charlie's "fuck" anyway.

He sinks all of the way down, and pauses, giving Meyer time to adjust. And maybe he needs a little time himself. The alcohol is still buzzing in the back of his brain, making it all too much - too much feeling and sensation and it's slowly over-whelming him. He leans his forehead into Meyer's upturned knee, breathing heavily and willing his body to calm down. He wants to make this last, after all.

He doesn't mind Charlie taking it slow one bit; if it were at all possible, he'd want this to last forever, so that he didn't have to worry about anything else, so that he could just lose himself in the pleasurable sensations and block anything unpleasant from his mind. Sadly, he knows even with Charlie pausing like this, it can't last forever, and when Charlie leans his forehead onto his knee, he reaches down to run a hand through Charlie's hair and then down his cheek almost gently, almost affectionately, smiling slightly.

It is oddly intimate for them, the hand on his cheek. They're not often gentle like this, but something about this place...

Charlie turns his face into the palm of Meyer's hand, kissing it slowly, breathing in the scent of his skin.

When he starts to move it's with a single slow roll of his hips. The lube is doing its job damn well, and Meyer feels tight and hot and wet around him as he starts to fuck him.

It must be this place, the sense of being stuck, of wanting to cling to whatever is most familiar and safe. He's not an affectionate person by any stretch of the imagination, and isn't particularly prone to gentle touches, either. It's only a few seconds after Charlie kisses his hand that he pulls it away, resting it on one of Charlie's arms instead; it may not have seemed like a particularly intimate gesture to many people, but it's incredibly so for him, and he can't keep his hand on Charlie's cheek for long without feeling strangely exposed.

Besides, he needs something to hold onto when Charlie starts moving like that, needs to dig his nails into Charlie's skin to prevent his moan from being any louder than it already is. His hips move against Charlie, wanting more, unable to believe how good this feels right now.

It does feel incredible. Everything does. From the glide of their bodies moving together, and the skin just beginning to glisten with sweat under his hands. He leans into kiss him again, he has to, even as he's gasping and panting into Meyer's mouth with each stroke down.

He kisses back, a little sloppily, groaning against Charlie's mouth as he does, eyes squeezed shut to concentrate on nothing but the overwhelming feeling. He knows that eventually this moment will have to end -- they can't do nothing but this forever, no matter how much he might want to -- but for now, he just feels insatiable, like he wants more of Charlie, even though they're pressed so close together already, even though Charlie's deep inside of him.

He wraps his arms around Charlie to hold him closer, not an affectionate grip but a tight one, maybe even a little uncomfortably so. He knows his nails are biting into Charlie's skin and will leave marks that'll last the night, at least, but he doesn't want to let go, and his surprisingly strong grip says that far better than words could.

He lets himself be pulling in even closer, leaning his weight into Meyer's chest as he keeps pounding into him. His pace is picking up now, only able to hold out how it was for so long. Because it's all just too damn much, building up into a crescendo he can't back away from. His kisses move from Meyer's mouth to his neck, the middle of his chest, breathing hard against his skin. A hand wanders down to wrap around Meyer's length, pumping him in rhythm.

Charlie's weight feels good on him, solid, grounding him just like everything else has. He realizes there's no other thoughts in his mind except Charlie, how good he feels and how real he is and how this is exactly what he needs right now. It's as though all the tension he wasn't even aware was building up within him is melting away. If he were thinking rationally -- which he can't, of course, not when Charlie's touching him like that, not when he's going faster, harder -- he'd realize that just as soon as they're done, his unpleasant thoughts will come creeping back.

For now, though, he's past the point of even moaning, despite how good it feels; he's completely quiet, his breath quick and ragged, lifting his hips in response to Charlie's thrusts. He can't help but open his eyes for a moment, to look at Charlie, but the sensations and looking at him at once are almost too much combined, and he closes his eyes again, not loosening his grip on Charlie at all.

It's amazing how much he knows what Meyer's thinking, without him saying a word. He can tell in how hard he's gripping onto him, how quiet he is, the ragged pace of his breathing. It's all too much and he wants to hold onto it forever, but he can feel the edges of his orgasm creeping up on him. He quickens the pace on Meyer's cock, hoping to bring them off together. But a few more thrusts in, and he groaning loudly, burying his face in Meyer's shoulder as he empties into him, the waves of his orgasm wracking his body so he's twitching and trembling with it.

The last moments of it, and he bites down hard on Meyer's shoulder, sure to leave a mark.

He has to admit, he likes it when Charlie bites hard enough or digs his nails in hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn't want visible evidence of what they've done, of course, but he likes the hidden, tangible evidence quite a bit.

It's the bite, really, that finally pushes him over the edge, too, although he'd been close the whole time Charlie had been inside of him. He's unusually quiet, even for himself, as the orgasm hits him, although from the way all of his muscles tense at once and he shakes slightly, still holding Charlie close to him, there's no denying how intense the flood of pleasure coursing through him is. He doesn't seem liable to loosen his tight grip anytime soon, still completely silent as he trembles beneath Charlie.

He keeps pumping Meyer's cock as he comes, kissing and lipping at the skin under his mouth. He likes that Meyer is holding him hard, like this. It's so often the other way around, Charlie being the one clinging and begging Meyer to stay just a little longer. And he's certainly not going to make any move to leave this time. He keeps kissing bits of Meyer's skin through the come-down, touching and stroking every bit he can reach.

He doesn't intend to make a habit of clinging onto Charlie like this, and he knows it'll never get discussed. If Charlie ever brought it up, he'd deny ever having been at all clingy, at all affectionate. He's not sure he likes what being stuck here seems to be doing to him; making him want to hold on tight to Charlie, afraid to let him out of his sight. It's not his normal attitude at all, and it confuses him.

Absentmindedly, he runs a hand through Charlie's hair, relishing those kisses even as his brain starts up its constant worrying and questioning once again. He tries to ignore it, to stay in this moment as long as he can.

He waits until he's sure Meyer is completely spent before he pulls out. Even so, he doesn't feel like moving yet, and keeps his head pillowed on Meyer's chest. It's nice, to hear his heartbeat still pounding away and knowing he caused it. He leans up to kiss him, a lazy slide of lips amd tongue still tingly and over-sensitive.

He kisses back, trying to will any other distractions from his mind, trying to concentrate only on Charlie's head on his chest, the sound of their breathing slowing down as they begin to get back to normal. It's better that he doesn't say anything at all right now; he doesn't trust himself to say anything particularly intelligent at best, and at worst, he'd simply begin worrying again.

He wishes more than ever that he had a cigarette right now, and balances out the pros and cons of dipping into his meager stash right now. And also the pros and cons of moving...

But he knows that if he waits much longer they're going to end up stuck together. So with a groan of effort he rolls off him, only far enough away to press their sides together. Meyer better not have any intention of going anywhere tonight because Charlie will stop him if needed.

His mind is very much on cigarettes right now, although that's not a strange state of being for his mind; ever since getting stuck here, his brain keeps playing the urge for a cigarette over and over like a broken record. He's running out of them fast, and once they're gone entirely, he has no idea what he's going to do. Go insane, probably.

He'd vaguely thought about getting up, wandering around the house for awhile -- it probably drives Charlie nuts, just how much Meyer always wants to roam around aimlessly instead of cuddle. It's after sex, usually, that he gets his best ideas, and sometimes he just has to write them down. For now, though, he'll stay where he is, since Charlie doesn't seem inclined to want him to get up.

Charlie presses a kiss into his shoulder, just to make sure he remembers he's there. Meyer always seems to go into his head after sex, after all. And Charlie like having a bit of attention.

"That was fucking incredible," he slurs out happily, punctuating with a few more kisses.

Now that's something he can agree with, although not quite as slurred, and not with quite so many enthusiastic kisses, and he offers Charlie a slight smile, stroking his hair again.

"Yeah, it was," he responds, letting his hand linger in Charlie's curls for a moment.

He presses his head into Meyer's shoulder, happy to let him continue if he wants. His other hand snakes around his middle, as close to spooning as he can manage in this position.

This is good. It's familiar and safe and he's rather not let go of it if at all possible, thank you very much.

At some point, he'll have to let go, but for now, he's content to let Charlie hold him like this. After all, he'd been the one clinging so tightly only moments before. He'd like to chalk that up simply to arousal, to deeply enjoying what they'd been doing, but he knows it's not that, not entirely. He'll never think about how he really feels about any of this, but he knows for sure that if Charlie were to disappear without warning, he'd be liable to destroy the whole town trying to find him -- and to get revenge on whoever took him.

"Go to sleep," he mumbles, hand still in Charlie's hair. Charlie's still drunk, after all. He still needs sleep. Meyer himself probably won't sleep, but he'll lie here just the same.

"Mmmm. Yeah. Probably will." His eyelids feel heavy, after all, eyes practically stinging until he shut them for good. He's warm and sated and held and in a Meyer-smelling place so it doesn't take long as all for him to drift off.

"Okay. Sleep well."

He realizes as he's saying it that Charlie is already drifting off to sleep, so he just smiles a little, shifts positions a bit to get more comfortable, and then lies there, staring at the ceiling, finally letting his brain go back to its natural, overly worried state.