[ A guilty, ecstatic little ripple follows Gale's hands as they run down the seam between them, gasping against his lips as he feels that fleeting and desperate touch.
Godfrey hardly has time to dwell on the little guilt, the thin undertow trying to pull him to something dark and deep. A lucky thing - there is nothing he wants less than to be pulled away from the man sinking into his arms, breathing heavy against his lips, hot against his bare chest. And something in him knows where all of those riptide currents lie, where he may not dwell if he wishes to avoid them.
The skin of his chest has gone untouched, his lips unkissed, his body unbeheld, for - it feels - more years than he can count on both of his hands. Long enough for each and every touch to feel sensitive and new, for greedy hands and hungry eyes to feel like an exhilarating novelty. These avenues are safe.
It's when he begins to wander further, toward the thing that had blocked all of these things, that things turn treacherous.
He would live here forever, and that is a dangerous thing, for it would only beckon him down these internal causeways. Gale does not give him the chance, and just as he begins to process the absence of his lips, he speaks to him in a hissing torrent. His hands pull at his trousers. No other thought could hope to stand a chance.
Gently, Godfrey steals one more kiss, parts with the taste of his lips on his tongue, his fingers luxuriating in his dark hair. Then, he slips his hand free and props himself up, raising his hips. Tugging his hips first around the firm swell of his backside before working the one at his front free.
He glances down at his work just in time for his waistband to make its way far enough down his strong thighs to free his cock, pinned and aching against the inner leg. It springs forth, standing firm against his stomach, close to--
Godfrey sighs harshly as it's freed, feels himself flood with heat as he tries to shift his pants further down, pinning the ankles to pillows with his heel to pull each leg free. ]
no subject
Godfrey hardly has time to dwell on the little guilt, the thin undertow trying to pull him to something dark and deep. A lucky thing - there is nothing he wants less than to be pulled away from the man sinking into his arms, breathing heavy against his lips, hot against his bare chest. And something in him knows where all of those riptide currents lie, where he may not dwell if he wishes to avoid them.
The skin of his chest has gone untouched, his lips unkissed, his body unbeheld, for - it feels - more years than he can count on both of his hands. Long enough for each and every touch to feel sensitive and new, for greedy hands and hungry eyes to feel like an exhilarating novelty. These avenues are safe.
It's when he begins to wander further, toward the thing that had blocked all of these things, that things turn treacherous.
He would live here forever, and that is a dangerous thing, for it would only beckon him down these internal causeways. Gale does not give him the chance, and just as he begins to process the absence of his lips, he speaks to him in a hissing torrent. His hands pull at his trousers. No other thought could hope to stand a chance.
Gently, Godfrey steals one more kiss, parts with the taste of his lips on his tongue, his fingers luxuriating in his dark hair. Then, he slips his hand free and props himself up, raising his hips. Tugging his hips first around the firm swell of his backside before working the one at his front free.
He glances down at his work just in time for his waistband to make its way far enough down his strong thighs to free his cock, pinned and aching against the inner leg. It springs forth, standing firm against his stomach, close to--
Godfrey sighs harshly as it's freed, feels himself flood with heat as he tries to shift his pants further down, pinning the ankles to pillows with his heel to pull each leg free. ]