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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)

It certainty does wipe the smirk off his face, and he kisses back eagerly enough, although he's still a little suspicious that Charlie has something just as nefarious as more stomach raspberries up his sleeve. He'll enjoy the kiss for now, but he's keeping an eye on him for any sneaky movements.

He's certainly angling to flip positions again. Not that he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being pinned down like this, but rules of the game are the rules of the game. He lifts his hips a little against Meyer's, seeing if he's got the angle to roll them over.

The angle is right, and Charlie has the advantage of height and long legs for leverage, so he has no choice but to be flipped over, swapping positions once more. If asked, he'd say it had been entirely intentional on his part, but of course it hadn't been -- Charlie just has certain advantages, and now he's stuck underneath him again.

He grins down at Meyer, entirely too fucking smug again, his hands pinning him to the bed by his shoulders. "How's it going down there?"

"It's okay, I guess," he responds, "except I'm being crushed to death by someone who weighs about four hundred pounds."

That's definitely an exaggeration. Charlie probably weighs more than him by virtue of height, but not a whole lot. Regardless, he's prone to exaggerating his retorts when Charlie's got him pinned, because it's not like there's much else he can do except bide his time and look for a way to flip Charlie back over.

"Fuck you," always the best comeback, but he really can't think of anything wittier than 'you weight four hundred pounds' and last time he checked he wasn't still actually fourteen years old.

Besides, he's naked, and Meyer's naked, and he's currently straddling Meyer's hips, and he's fairly certain his body just has an automatic reaction to being in this position by now. Who can blame him, really? "'Sides, I though yous liked being under me."

"That kinda depends on context, doesn't it?"

He's being picky, of course, simply for the sake of having something to be argumentative about, but it doesn't do very well for his continued attempts at being irritating if he just agrees with Charlie.

At the same time, he figures he can take the opportunity to try to wriggle out from underneath Charlie and use his legs to flip him over again. Or at least, try to. Charlie's got a pretty good grip on him right now.

He relaxes the pressure on Meyer's shoulders, just enough to let him flip him over. Sure, he likes putting up a fight as much as Meyer does, but honestly he does like feeling pinned down by him, likes the way he presses him straight into the mattress. He lands on his back, bouncing slightly on the mattress with a soft 'oof.'

Meyer still looks entirely too calm for this and Charlie retaliates by stretching his arms up over his head, elbows bent and resting against the headboard. "Happy nows?"

"Mhmm."

And he does, indeed, look considerably happier, especially when Charlie stretches his arms up like that; it's a good view, who can blame him? "Now I can rub my stubble on you all I want."

He's not actually going to do it. He's just going to point out that he could. He leans forward a little, enough to trap Charlie's wrists, pinning them to the headboard, too. He's pretty sure Charlie could escape if he really wanted to, but that wouldn't be any fun at all.

"See if yous is getting any you tries that shit again." He tries his best to fix him with a hard look, but it's a little undercut by the further reaction his body is having to being both pinned underneath Meyer and having his wrists clamped onto the headboard. Damn, traitorous body.

"What if I don't want any?"

Of course, he'd be blatantly lying if he said that. That's probably pretty obvious, and truth be told, he pretty much always wants some when it comes to Charlie. He's not leaning in for any more irritating, though, even if he tries to make it look like he is -- he's just leaning down for a kiss.

Thank fucking god for that. He leans up to press himself into Meyer as they kiss, as much as he can with his hips and wrists still pinned down. But he presses forwards where he can, wanting to feel his chest flush against Meyer's, feel the way they're breathing together as they kiss.

It's pretty hard for him to effectively pin both Charlie's wrists and his hips when Charlie's so damn tall, but he's doing his best, spreading his weight out as evenly as he can, trying to keep Charlie pinned against the bed. He should've known that as soon as they'd started wrestling, this was where it was going to lead -- they're predictable, in some ways, but predictable doesn't mean bad. His kiss is a little slow, a little lazy, his breathing easily matching up with Charlie's.

It helps that he isn't struggle much any more. A little flexing of the muscles in his arms and wrists, just to keep things interesting. But he's certainly not going to try to roll Meyer off again, not when it feels this good to have him stretched across him and pinning him down, using all of his weight to sink Charlie into the mattress.

After a while they break for air, still staying close and breathing next to each other. At which point Charlie of course has an idea that needs sharing.

"You wanna tie my hands up there I'm fine with it, but yous better fucking suck me off for it."

"What, you think I'd just tie you up and leave you there without any reward? I'm hurt."

Truthfully, that's exactly the kind of thing he'd do, just to irritate the hell out of Charlie, and they both know it. He's also not going to turn down the offer, although he has to look around -- not relaxing his grip on Charlie's arms any -- for something to tie his hands with.

"If I let go of your hands for a second, you're not gonna try anything funny, are you?"

There's a belt just out of reach, and he'd grab it, but he's pretty sure Charlie's going to try to flip him over the second he lets go.

"Why would I dos I thing like that? Now I'm the one who's hurt." Look at this adorable innocent face, Meyer. He would never ever do anything to cause you any trouble.

But still, just for today he keeps his hands gripped dutifully on the headboard as Meyer roots around for a belt, although they way he's twitching and rocking his hips against his shows how he's not going to be entirely cooperative.

It's a pretty damn adorable face, he has to admit, and he's unnaturally fond of it, but that doesn't mean he trusts Charlie for a second. Charlie's one of those people who does whatever he can get away with, and is damn good at it, too.

So he's pleasantly surprised when Charlie doesn't pull away the minute he removes his hands to find a belt. The movement of Charlie's hips makes him smile a little -- he wouldn't want total cooperation, after all, that wouldn't be any fun -- and then he sets to tying Charlie's hands to the headboard, tight but not too tight, hands moving quickly and almost effortlessly; he's pretty damn good at this tying people up thing.

Satisfied with his work, he sits back a little, mostly to give Charlie an appreciative look, but, yeah, maybe to wriggle his hips against Charlie's just a little. Hey, they're naked, and Charlie's tied up. What else is he supposed to do?

He does have a knack for it. As soon as the belt is secure Charlie gives it a little tug, shifting the muscles in his arms and making sure it's secure. It's a nice feeling, having Meyer's weight on his hips and the tug of the belt around his wrists.

"Feels real fucking comfy." Maybe there's a touch of sarcasm there, but it is partially true, at least. Until Meyer starts shifting his hips, however, then Charlie's hissing in through his teeth as a wave of arousal passes through him.

"I'm glad to hear it," he says, a little touch of sarcasm of his own, but only to match Charlie's tone. He continues to shift his hips a little, trying to see if he can get another hiss out of Charlie -- he likes the sounds he makes, and as Charlie's probably noticed by now, he likes teasing him, especially when he's tied up.

He leans in to kiss Charlie, though, kiss a lot less slow and lazy now that Charlie's wrists are secured to the bed; something about that always sends a little spike of arousal through him.

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