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I didn't ask if you were into it.

[No, Charlie, he told you you weren't asking nicely. And from the grip Charlie's got on him, it's pretty obvious he's not going to be asking nicely anytime soon, either. In another situation, he might continue to be a tease, to pretend he wasn't going to give Charlie anything anyway, but that hardly appeals to him now.

If Charlie wants to hold him that tightly, leaving marks, then he can return the favor. He ignores the hand under his jaw, settles for getting a firm grip on Charlie's shoulders, pressing him back into the couch cushions, putting most of his weight on him as he leans down to bite at Charlie's shoulders and chest, none too gently. Charlie can leave marks all he wants -- he's still going to be the one getting pinned to the couch.]

[He groans loudly when Meyer sinks his teeth into him like that. Hands scramble across his back, fingernails digging in.]

C'mon, Meyer, take some fucking clothes off.

[He wants to do this properly, wants to sink nails into him and have it leave marks. He even rocks his hips up into Meyer's for a little incentive.]

[Almost grudgingly, he reaches up to loosen his tie with one hand, to toss it and his collar away, then gets started on the buttons of his vest, purposefully moving slowly, still holding Charlie's shoulder with one hand, although the way Charlie's moving his hips makes him want to hurry. The vest gets tossed to the floor, too -- an unusually careless move, for Meyer, who'd normally insist upon putting it somewhere it wouldn't wrinkle -- and he unbuttons a few buttons of his shirt, but that's all the concessions he'll give.]

Good enough?

[Of course it's not good enough. He knows it as well as Charlie does.]

[Charlie squirms under his hand - not enough to throw him off, just enough to show he's not giving up yet.]

Barely.

[Fingernails coming in contact with his skin at last, dipping inside his collar to dig into the skin across the back of his neck.

He's hardly forgotten that Meyer's cock is still hanging out of his trousers, and rocks against him again.]

I guess barely'll just have to do.

[He probably shouldn't enjoy those fingernails digging in as much as he does, but he's not going to complain about it. He may, however, dig his own nails into Charlie's shoulder in retaliation, and his grip is definitely going to leave marks.]

Now, are you going to ask nicely?

[He doubts it. And maybe that's why he's looking to provide just a bit more incentive, sitting back and running his hand down Charlie's body, from his chest to his hip, then scooting down a little further so that he can nudge Charlie's legs apart and sit between them, resting a hand on his inner thigh.

Slowly, and very purposefully, he puts one finger into his mouth, getting it good and slicked up before pushing Charlie's legs even further apart and pressing that finger inside of him, almost too slowly, teasingly.]

[He can barely hear anything over the sound of his own breathing, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. But it all snaps back into sharp focus when Meyer sinks that one finger into him.

He hooks a leg around Meyer's hips, heel digging into his ass.]

Like fuck, I will.

So stubborn...

[It comes out as an amused growl, if such a thing is possible. If Charlie's going to drag him closer by hooking a leg around him like that, he really has no choice but to pick up the pace a little, working his finger into Charlie, looking for that spot that'll make him go weak in the knees. He could draw this out forever, and fully intends to, if Charlie doesn't give in and ask nicely.

Considering that they're both extremely stubborn, and neither like to lose a power struggle, it could be an uphill battle. That hardly bothers him, though, not as he's trying his damnedest to make Charlie whimper and moan just with one finger.]

Thought you said yous was gonna fuck me.

[He's squirming hard under him, but biting back any whimpers, still.]

I seem to recall telling you to ask nicely.

[Maybe what Charlie needs is another finger added to the mix, then, while his other hand holds Charlie's hip tightly, fingers dug in. The hand might be gripping hard, but it's also serving the purpose of pinning Charlie slightly -- not much, but enough so that he can feel like he's in control here.]

[His hand grips around Meyer's neck again as he holds back the urge to groan hard.]

I don't gotta ask. I know how bads you fucking want it.

Yeah, maybe. But I could do this all day.

[That's true, partially. But it's also true that the hand around his neck pretty much has him groaning, too. He's not sure he should enjoy that quite as much as he does, but he's not questioning it, because he's too damn busy trying to get that groan out of Charlie that he knows he's suppressing.]

[The best he can do is turn it into a sharp gasp in when Meyer moves his fingers.]

Fuck.

[Goddammit, he wasn't meant to let that one slip. He retaliates by digging his fingers in further and rocking into Meyer's cock again.]

Come on, Meyer. Fuck me.

[Now that's what he was waiting to hear. He pulls his fingers away almost suddenly, repositioning himself, propping one of Charlie's legs up on his shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to drag Charlie a little closer to him, line himself up, and then press into him, slowly. It'd be hard to call it exactly gentle, though, what with the hard grip he has on Charlie's hip.]

This what you wanted?

[Given the stream of expletives Charlie rattles off as he's sunk into, the answer is probably yes.

One hand grips hard onto Meyer's ass, digging in hard as he presses into him.]

Yeah. That's what I fucking wanted.

Good, because I'm gonna make you scream.

[He doesn't usually say things like that, but then again, he's not always so aggressive, either. Today, it's apparent that he's not particularly interested in holding anything back. That's probably down to how the trip to Atlantic City had gone. He leans forward a little, putting one hand on Charlie's chest, putting a significant amount of weight on him. He doesn't know why, but he feels the need to hold Charlie down somehow.]

[He uses the hand on Meyer's ass to push him forward, encouraging him.]

Fucking hot when you talks like that, Meyer.

[He laughs almost breathlessly, picking up the pace a little, spurred on by that encouraging hand. It had initially been his intention to take this slower, to draw it out, but he finds that he's incapable of that, making his movements fast and rough. Somehow, he doubts Charlie's complaining.]

[Oh, he really really isn't. There is nothing to complain about when Meyer is pinning him down and fucking him hard enough that he knows he's not going to be able to walk straight for days.

He closes his eyes, fingernails still digging into Meyer's skin, and lets himself get lost in it.]

[At any other time, he'd probably be trying to hold back the torrent of quiet but intense swearing that makes its way out of his mouth now, but now all he can do is let every single one of those words out, vaguely wondering if he's gripping Charlie's shoulder too hard, if he's leaving marks. There's a moment where he's inclined to close his eyes, too, but he keeps them open, watching Charlie intently, every little noise and movement, trying to gauge just the right way to make him go absolutely crazy.]

[He opens his eyes again, locking with them with Meyer's and fuck... the intensity there, he feels like he could come right here and now from that looks alone.

He runs his thumb along Meyer's lower lip, silent permission to put his fingers inside Meyer's mouth.]

[As soon as Charlie opens his eyes and looks at him, he has to let out a little gasp, because no matter how much they do this, he's never going to get used to how goddamned perfect Charlie looks, and how goddamned good he feels.

He parts his lips slightly, granting permission, although at the moment, he's pretty sure he'd be willing to grant permission to just about anything Charlie wanted to do -- no sense in telling him that, though, since he's still trying to pretend like he's the one in control here.]

[He plunges two fingers into Meyer's mouth, not caring much about subtly any more.]

Fuck I love seeing you get wound up when you fuck me like this, Meyer.

[It's too much, he can feel little shocks going up and down his spine every time Meyer pounds into him and we wants to come so badly it's driving him crazy.]

Touch me.

[As soon as Charlie thrusts his fingers into his mouth, he's sucking on them, using his tongue on them like it was Charlie's cock instead of his fingers. He'd probably respond to Charlie's comment were his mouth not otherwise occupied, but all he can manage is a groan around Charlie's fingers, an acknowledgement that he is, indeed, extremely worked up.

When he reaches down to wrap his hand around Charlie's cock and touch him as requested, he doesn't waste any time -- no starting slow, no teasing, just a quick, steady pace to match the movements of his hips.]

[That's the fucking stuff. He's arching his back off the couch again, and there's no way he can keep his eyes open now, not like this.]

Meyer. I'm gonna come.

[Anyone else might now be able to make the words out, given how hard Charlie's breathing, but he knows Meyer knows him well enough.]

[If he didn't have Charlie's fingers in his mouth, he might be whispering encouragements, but for now, he can only moan in response -- although he's pretty sure that that counts as encouragement, too, when combined with the way his pace in stroking Charlie doesn't slow at all.

The pleasure's threatening to overcome him, too, but there's no way he's going to let it until he gets Charlie to break apart entirely.]

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