He breathes out raw in response, half low laugh and half gasping suck of air - a wordless "Ha," against her temple and her short, dark hair. Charlie fumbles briefly at her shirt, her hip. He's all post-climax clumsy, white noise in his fingers as he comes slowly down from the blood buzz high of rutting into her.

"Fucking hell," he manages, the heel of his hand catching at the countertop near her leg. He can't bring himself to draw back from the clenching heat of her just yet, though the flickering line of tension in his arm and shoulder suggests he's considering it. Just -- riding out the way she grasps involuntarily around him, taut.

Eventually Charlie mashes his nose unceremoniously against her cheek. Breathes out and in, the faintly tacky scent of sweat and sex. "So, same time next week?"

Clearly a joke; he's not going anywhere just yet.