“ Christ, okay. I know I keep talking about how strong he is but, just— ” He gestures, across his own body. “ I’m not a lightweight, all right? You fill up a stock pot with rehydrated potato soup and haul it across the kitchen. It’s not easy. But holy mother of god, Gunther? He’s so fucking strong. ”
Charlie rubs a hand over his cheek. It’s only a little pink, more so from his scrubbing than any actual blush. “ Look, he’s got the kind of strength that would let you change positions so many times. Start out against the wall, and he’d be able to hold me up no problem. Maybe we switch to a countertop after, me sitting on the edge. Maybe then he wants to sit, and he’s just bouncing me on him. By the time we finally get horizontal, there’s still so many positions he could pin me in. Legs around my damn ears, or on my side with him holding one of my legs up, or him holding my back against his chest, leaning in over me on the bed and his teeth are on my ear— ”
His cheeks are darkening further now. He might need a cold shower.