[ For all that Mace's shoulders are broad, corded with a decent amount of muscle, his waist is trim in proportion. So the hand that slips free of his own and slides up beneath his undershirt instead, it spans a fair amount of skin as it curves over his side. The callouses graze, draw a little shiver out of him on the way down.
The other goes tight at his shoulder before trailing down his other side, both of them coming together at his thighs to grip and flex and pull, an unspoken demand that Mace complies to with a low, long sound pressed against Ian's tongue.
Put him wherever you want, teacher. Just watch the merchandise, and Mace ain't talking about himself here.
His knees go on either side of Ian's waist, shifting up and back a little so that he doesn't cause any damage to the angry, charred-red line going down his chest. But Mace isn't any less tactile, and his desire to touch is rising in tandem with the heat simmering low in his gut.
The fingers in Ian's hair tighten just so, and Mace breaks their kiss to briefly press a series of kisses along the line of Ian's jaw, slightly damp and nipping, trailing down his neck. His other hand goes to the waistband of Ian's pants, fingers flicking the button there, purposefully pressing his palm against the clothed dick beneath it. ]
I usually ... do dinner first.
[ Distracted, in between sucking kisses to the side of Ian's throat. ]
no subject
The other goes tight at his shoulder before trailing down his other side, both of them coming together at his thighs to grip and flex and pull, an unspoken demand that Mace complies to with a low, long sound pressed against Ian's tongue.
Put him wherever you want, teacher. Just watch the merchandise, and Mace ain't talking about himself here.
His knees go on either side of Ian's waist, shifting up and back a little so that he doesn't cause any damage to the angry, charred-red line going down his chest. But Mace isn't any less tactile, and his desire to touch is rising in tandem with the heat simmering low in his gut.
The fingers in Ian's hair tighten just so, and Mace breaks their kiss to briefly press a series of kisses along the line of Ian's jaw, slightly damp and nipping, trailing down his neck. His other hand goes to the waistband of Ian's pants, fingers flicking the button there, purposefully pressing his palm against the clothed dick beneath it. ]
I usually ... do dinner first.
[ Distracted, in between sucking kisses to the side of Ian's throat. ]