[ Petulant and obviously playful, nothing that hurts in the slightest given the kinds of wounds he's sustained in his time. It earns another sharp tug on his hair, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with a thick swallow. Places he's sensitive, places he likes, places he's trying to cover up with some whining because of the way it bring heat into his face.
Nate shifts his legs, knees drawing up to bracket Ian's sides. ]
You bite any harder and the paps are gonna come up with some speculative headlines.
( He settles in like he belongs; legs out long between Nate's, held comfortably by his knees on either side, probably too much weight settled on top of Nate's chest, and an arm slipping up to curl under one of his shoulders. It's in his top 3 positions, hands down. )
Tell 'em it was that— one weird guy that hits on you real hard every time. What's his name?
( That sure is a shirt blocking his path toward collarbone. He nips at the hem absently, tugging at it with his teeth. )
[ He does belong: the way Nate stretches and relaxes under him is evidence enough of that, accommodating for the minor changes in position with a complementary deftness honed by years of Ian figuring out his favorite ways to settle on Nate like some kind of cat.
His palm skates down to Ian's nape, rubbing at the back of his neck as Nate groans in a decidedly unsexy way. ]
Quin. I don't want to encourage him, he might take that as an invitation.
( Nate can groan as unsexy as he likes as long as he keeps rubbing the back of Ian's neck like that. It momentarily quells the absent tugging of Nate's collar, has him settling down into a position a little more comfortably still on Nate's chest. )
So what you're saying is I should cancel the dinner date I scheduled for tomorrow.
( Honestly... whether they wind up having sex or just laying in the floor (next to a perfectly good couch) all night like this, either one is wildly appealing. Either one is a win. )
Here I was thinking we were in that phase in our relationship where we start joining Swinger clubs.
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[ Petulant and obviously playful, nothing that hurts in the slightest given the kinds of wounds he's sustained in his time. It earns another sharp tug on his hair, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with a thick swallow. Places he's sensitive, places he likes, places he's trying to cover up with some whining because of the way it bring heat into his face.
Nate shifts his legs, knees drawing up to bracket Ian's sides. ]
You bite any harder and the paps are gonna come up with some speculative headlines.
[ Which, for the record, he does not mind. ]
no subject
Tell 'em it was that— one weird guy that hits on you real hard every time. What's his name?
( That sure is a shirt blocking his path toward collarbone. He nips at the hem absently, tugging at it with his teeth. )
no subject
His palm skates down to Ian's nape, rubbing at the back of his neck as Nate groans in a decidedly unsexy way. ]
Quin. I don't want to encourage him, he might take that as an invitation.
no subject
So what you're saying is I should cancel the dinner date I scheduled for tomorrow.
( Honestly... whether they wind up having sex or just laying in the floor (next to a perfectly good couch) all night like this, either one is wildly appealing. Either one is a win. )
Here I was thinking we were in that phase in our relationship where we start joining Swinger clubs.