( thomas stares at jim -- first at his cock, then upward, gaze wandering over his chest to his face, taking in the flush on jim's cheeks, all the signs of a good orgasm. thomas probably looks much the same despite the fact that he hasn't come, despite the fact that his cock is curved insistently toward his stomach, achingly heavy. there's still heat in his cheeks, his eyes glassy and his lips swollen. )
Quite. ( he says after a moment and it comes out rough and low. fucking perfect, indeed.
and, movements slow on account of the aches of middle age and sensualness both, he moves up jim's body again, leaning in to kiss him though not quite connecting, hovering there with a silent, mindful question. some men don't like tasting themselves, after all. not even on someone else's tongue. )
no subject
Quite. ( he says after a moment and it comes out rough and low. fucking perfect, indeed.
and, movements slow on account of the aches of middle age and sensualness both, he moves up jim's body again, leaning in to kiss him though not quite connecting, hovering there with a silent, mindful question. some men don't like tasting themselves, after all. not even on someone else's tongue. )