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It's a good thing he just came already, because the sight of Meyer touching himself like that, the feeling of his cool, dry hand across his skin, might just be too much to take. Charlie is breathing in little hitched puffs of air, as if he's afraid of breathing in all the way.

"Making me wait that long? You'd better sit on my dick instead, ride me til I'm a fucking mess."

"You really think it'd take that long?"

It's pretty hard to deny that Charlie making suggestions like that isn't arousing as hell, though, and his eyes drift shut for a moment as there's a little shift in his breathing, making his breaths come out quicker and more ragged. He doesn't actually intend to leave Charlie tied up, but it sure is fun to think about, which is probably why his hand begins moving more quickly, even though he doesn't consciously intend it to.

Charlie's moving as much as he can now, with his hands tied and his hips trapped will allow. His muscles shift and flex underneath, legs curling and uncurling, pressing heels into the mattress. His hips lift against Meyer's, just a fraction, just enough to show how much he's enjoying the show without actively bucking him off.

"Maybe not too longs. But don't says you ain't into the idea."

"Yeah," he says, with a quiet little laugh that's almost more like a gasp, bracing one hand on Charlie's chest, "Can't you tell I'm into the idea?"

He's practically moaning now, eyes still shut, enjoying the way Charlie's moving underneath him. It's obvious he's close to the edge, but holding back for some reason -- probably just another one of those little expressions of control that he's so obsessed with, or perhaps just the desire to draw it out, which is why he opens his eyes again to watch Charlie.

"Yeah, a little. I thinking seeing you come like this would makes me believes it more."

He can tell Meyer's close, but he can also tell he's holding off, and why would he do a thing like that when seeing him climax is always the most beautiful fucking thing in the world?

Maybe he's just holding off because he's looking for a little encouragement, like the encouragement Charlie just provided him. There's nothing he likes better than hearing Charlie talking like that, even if he can't often return the favor. All it takes is a couple more strokes, and he's coming all over Charlie's chest, moaning loudly, throwing his head back with his eyes closed. He knows he's probably making it into more of a show than it needs to be, but hey, that's half the fun, isn't it, especially having Charlie tied up like this.

He switches into a low mumble of Italian as Meyer comes, using every pet name and swear word he can think of, mingling them together. Nothing else can accurately describe the fucking beautiful sight of Meyer on top of him, head thrown back and eyes closed as he spills his release right onto Charlie's chest.

It takes him a few moments to open his eyes and look back down at Charlie, little smile on his face, glad to see Charlie seemed to find it pleasurable to watch, because he sure as hell found it pleasurable to do. With some reluctance, his hands go to the belt that's binding Charlie's wrists and start to untie him.

"Okay," he says, still breathing hard, "Guess I won't keep you trapped here forever."

"Real obliging, yeah." As soon as his wrists are free he flexes them a little, moving them in circles and loosening the tight muscles.

"I think I needs a shower."

"Yeah, you probably do."

And that's probably his cue to get off of Charlie, too, so that he can actually get up and go shower. He does so, none too gracelessly, flopping back to the bed. Don't mind him -- he'll just be lying here in a half-stupor.

Charlie follows the trajectory of his mouth as Meyer rolls off him, and gives him a quick kiss before sliding out of the bed, towards the bathroom.

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