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"Lemme guess, then you're going to take up fucking lumberjacking." You know that squirming only encourages him, Meyer. Still, despite his prickly face, Meyer really is nice and soft and warm. Charlie gives Meyer a little shove so he's on his back, and leans in to plant his head firmly on his chest, safe from stubble scratches. Although in the meantime Meyer is going to be treated to a fateful of Charlie's morning hair.

"Yeah, y'know, maybe I will. Just to--"

He had intended to finish that sentence, but he's a little distracted by the fact that Charlie's hair is suddenly in his face. He's not exactly complaining about it; he likes Charlie's hair, even if Charlie's position means he can't continue to rub his stubble on him. He's not too sure he likes being considered soft and warm, though, and he can almost hear Charlie thinking it.

"Mmm. 'S way better." He's always loved the way Meyer feels solid under his hands, firm muscle and the extra bits of padding around his waist being such a stark contrast to Charlie's own bony frame. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest under his cheek, hear the huff of air he gives when his plan to torrent Charlie further is foiled. He lets his hand come to rest on Meyer's waist, just a light grip for now, the clear intension being that he wants to stay here a while.

Hands gripping his waist, bizarrely self-conscious as he is about that part of his body, is a hell of a lot better than being poked in the stomach, so he allows it, knowing that Charlie is in a cuddly mood, and knowing that there's often very little to do to combat it.

"You're just saying it's better because I'm not rubbing my face on you," he points out, letting one hand run through Charlie's messy curls absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that's what's makes it better." Come on, Meyer, keep up.

He turns his head so he can press a few lazy open-mouthed kisses onto his chest, hands roaming slowly up and down his side as he does. Funnily enough for Charlie he's not even angling for sex, just happy enough to have Meyer close enough to touch as much as he likes.

"I still think I should grow a beard."

Now he's just being contradictory, but he's not really opposed to the kisses or the touching, he just feels the need to be stubborn and the opposite of cuddly whenever he can be. He continues to run his fingers through Charlie's hair lazily, knowing he's making a worse mess of it, and not particularly caring.

"I'll fucking drug you and shave you in your sleep, you tries it."

Ah, romance. Still, Charlie keeps his trail of kisses going lower, paying special attention to the dip of his breastbone and curve of muscle under his pecs.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try."

Admittedly, it would be pretty amusing, but it's probably for the best that he's not planning on growing a beard anytime soon. It's bad enough that they're stuck wearing these modern clothes, but letting himself have facial hair would just be an admission that he'd given up hope of ever getting back home.

Charlie's trail of kisses makes him smile all the same, though, and to continue to make a tangled mess out of Charlie's hair. Charlie knows all of his sensitive spots almost too well, but maybe that's a good thing, at the moment.

"Keep doing that with my hair and you're gonna be the ones tries to comb it down again." A rather fruitless activity now they've run out of pomade, but one he still gives a shot at now and again.

The trail of kisses have led him down to just over Meyer's naval, which he kisses at happily before planting his head down again. Ah yes, it is very comfy here.

"You need a haircut."

That's not really a response to what Charlie said, but it's true, and it gives him an excuse to keep messing with his hair, if it's going to be askew anyway. Both of them could use a haircut, he thinks idly, twining a curl around his finger.

"Sorry I ain't been able to pop into the fucking barber's lately," he mumbles directly in Meyer's skin. He knows it's getting out of control, and unlike Meyer he can't just comb his back when it gets a little too long. His tends to just stick out more in every direction.

"I bet I could cut your hair."

It's a bad idea. He can't even say it with a straight face, and he laughs a little as he says it. He's talented at many things, but Charlie should never let him near his head with scissors.

Yep, Charlie is propping his chin up on Meyer's chest to give him a scathing look.

"Don't thinks I trust yous around my head with anything sharp, thanks."

"Does my face count as something sharp?"

If he weren't so comfortable, he'd be going after Charlie with the stubble again, but as it is, he just lies there, letting Charlie put his head on his stomach if he wants.

"Something fucking scratchy, more like." He kisses Meyer's skin again, right below his sternum. Because there is no better way to let Meyer know he thinks he's being dumb.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll shave it eventually."

He may not be cuddly in general, but he kind of likes the attention he's receiving here. As far as he's concerned, Charlie can keep right on kissing him for as long as he wants.

Good, because he's not letting up for a while yet. Accept the kisses morph into little nips with his teeth as he makes his way towards Meyer's hipbone, kissing again after each one.

Now that's the kind of cuddling he can get behind, if it really counts as cuddling at this point. He can't help but shiver a little, always so damn responsive to Charlie's touches. Charlie knows him better than anyone else, and somehow, that doesn't feel threatening. He runs his fingers through Charlie's hair again, trying in vain to smooth it down.

He moves from one hip bone to the next, nipping gently and kissing. He pauses with his mouth right below Meyer's navel, oddly hit in the face with a reminder of when his sisters were little and he used to give them baths and blow raspberries on their stomachs.

With a positively evil grin up at Meyer he presses his lips back on his skin, loosely this time, and blows hard.

Congratulations Meyer, this one is a keeper.

He splutters in just about the most undignified fashion imaginable, flailing a little at the unexpected attack. Really, he should have been prepared for something like that -- he'd started off the day by rubbing his prickly face on Charlie, after all, what did he think was going to happen? -- but he'd just begun to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"What was that for?" he asks, knowing that it's a stupid question. It wasn't for anything. It just corroborates his growing theory that Charlie was born to plague and torment him, and he, apparently, was born to find it surprisingly endearing.

"You should see your fucking face, Meyer!" Yes, that was the most brilliant idea he has ever had and no one can tell him otherwise. Charlie is cracking up at the ridiculously vexed expression on Meyer's face, tipping off him and on to the mattress beside them as he does.

"Can't believe I never fucking done that befores."

"Don't start thinking you need to make up for lost time or something."

Because if he knows Charlie, that's exactly what he'll do. He can foresee a future of waking up to stomach raspberries, and it's not a future he relishes. That doesn't, of course, stop him from moving, surprisingly quickly, to roll on top of Charlie and rub his face all over Charlie's chest, hoping it prickles like hell. It's only fair.

The screech Charlie lets out is completely manly and entirely warranted. That hurts.

"Fucking bitch!" He flails and probably lands Meyer with a sharp kneecap, trying in vein to flip them again. Meyer may be short, but he's a heavy little fucker.

"What? Don't enjoy that?"

He's just going to smile very smugly at Charlie, still weighing him down. He's solid, and he can hold his own against Charlie, flailing or not. At least he's not still rubbing his face against Charlie's chest. No, and perhaps even worse, he's just gloating about it.

"Not what I'd enjoy mores." Because Meyer's face is just far too smug right now and he has to hook a hand behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss to wipe that smirk off his face.

Edited 2013-07-22 23:47 (UTC)

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