They sting and he finds he doesn't mind it - that he's almost glad for the scrape and the burn that follows or the fact that while he'll be leaving he flat in a few hours but at least he'll be taking the stripes with him (which isn't much, but it's something).

If she's pliable to his mouth, then there's no arguing that he's the same under her hand. Charlie inhales as she fights his trousers open - standing slightly straighter through the spine, shoulder curling as he presses his hip to the heat of her, to her hand. And just like it doesn't take much to go from stupid banter to kissing her, it doesn't take much more than the vague implication of her hand near his prick for him to realize he's already half hard as he grasps at her - catching with his teeth, nipping and deliberate.