[ I pray better on my knees, Ian says, and amusement runs headlong into a sudden stab of lust in the pit of Mace’s stomach. It’s an image that doesn’t even get the chance to properly flash before his mind’s eye before it’s happening right in front of him, momentarily stealing the breath from his lungs.
He traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth, holding back words of concern as Ian settles himself slow and delicate on the hardwood, but the muscles in Mace’s thighs are a little tense when those fingers pull and guide him into place.
Those same muscles twitch as wide, warm palms slide up, and Mace nearly cuts down into his goddamn tongue when a thumb drags along the bulge of his erection. Can’t stop his hips from bucking up into the touch, even as his eyes dart down to make sure Ian’s stomach isn’t in any danger of getting grazed by his shin, or the bedding. ]
Told you it was too late. [ Roughly, gaze heavy with arousal as it slides back up to Ian’s face, flickering between those big, dark eyes and his mouth.
He’s so fucking handsome. God, the things Mace wants to do. ]
That wound of yours, it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about. Driving me crazy.
[ The hand he’d licked mostly clean, he wipes it one more time on the sheets at the side of the mattress before it settles on Ian’s shoulder — not his hair, not meant to guide or anything like that. If anything, the touch is protective, steadying; Ian's already formed an association in Mace's head, something soft and hot and sweet. ]
no subject
He traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth, holding back words of concern as Ian settles himself slow and delicate on the hardwood, but the muscles in Mace’s thighs are a little tense when those fingers pull and guide him into place.
Those same muscles twitch as wide, warm palms slide up, and Mace nearly cuts down into his goddamn tongue when a thumb drags along the bulge of his erection. Can’t stop his hips from bucking up into the touch, even as his eyes dart down to make sure Ian’s stomach isn’t in any danger of getting grazed by his shin, or the bedding. ]
Told you it was too late. [ Roughly, gaze heavy with arousal as it slides back up to Ian’s face, flickering between those big, dark eyes and his mouth.
He’s so fucking handsome. God, the things Mace wants to do. ]
That wound of yours, it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about. Driving me crazy.
[ The hand he’d licked mostly clean, he wipes it one more time on the sheets at the side of the mattress before it settles on Ian’s shoulder — not his hair, not meant to guide or anything like that. If anything, the touch is protective, steadying; Ian's already formed an association in Mace's head, something soft and hot and sweet. ]