[ Nate chuckles, the sound low in the back of his throat as his chest shakes and warm hands start creeping up under his shirt again. The touch is deliberate this time, not tripping over itself to startle him, and the fingers in Ian's hair push dark curls out of his face. ]
Was that before or after the anvil with "ACME" written on it?
[ He inquires politely, relaxing into the floor and bracketing Ian's sides with his knees. The man isn't subtle - never has been, but that's just one of many things Nate loves about him - when he gets that sharp edge in his eyes, intent and soaked in mischief. ]
no subject
Was that before or after the anvil with "ACME" written on it?
[ He inquires politely, relaxing into the floor and bracketing Ian's sides with his knees. The man isn't subtle - never has been, but that's just one of many things Nate loves about him - when he gets that sharp edge in his eyes, intent and soaked in mischief. ]
Or the case of dynamite?