[ that's better. it's closer to what juno wants anyways. connor's hands are cool by contrast to the rest of his own body, which feels like someone's set him on a pyre and lit him up from head to heel. it's made all the warmer by the fact that he can feel the brush of connor's trousers against his hipbone, the way he thumbs at his pulse, slips fingers up his side like he's worth that little motion.
he almost completely loses himself to a sigh alone, but connor's desperate, low please gets him in the gut.
tell him how it feels?
that's easy.
or it should be, but his voice is straining a little because there's a heat coursing its way down his entire body. it started in his face, like a good bottle of whiskey, made its way down his chest like the burn, but keeps going lower into the pit of his belly, until he feels it now between his thighs where connor is hovering, dark trousers and all. ]
Hot... [ he swallows under connor's palm, feels where skin meets skin, throat trembling. ] Really hot... you've got nice hands... [ he presses towards that hand, stretches into it the way a dozy cat stretches towards the sun, except more desperate for it. common sense dictates to rub it out himself, but desire (so rarely listened to in the back of juno's mind) says that he's allowed to have a little fun once in a while. the theia has no say in it, just running low background processes, humming warmly in his eye, rolling a little up with his own as he closes his eyes and drags a hand down connor's bare arm.
he lingers on bicep and elbow, forearm, mapping out the shape until he finds the hand around his throat, splaying his fingers over it and grabbing the wrist. ] You okay?
[ an after thought, which juno doesn't mean for it to be, but he wants to know, that little conscious part of himself shifting a little uncomfortably to close casually spread legs before, heels digging in with uncertainty but without the strength in them to actually push off the bed and walk away. his own body traps him, heat and weight, desire, all writhing in the pit of his belly like vipers, snapping at his insides. ] Like really okay. Not bullshit okay.
no subject
he almost completely loses himself to a sigh alone, but connor's desperate, low please gets him in the gut.
tell him how it feels?
that's easy.
or it should be, but his voice is straining a little because there's a heat coursing its way down his entire body. it started in his face, like a good bottle of whiskey, made its way down his chest like the burn, but keeps going lower into the pit of his belly, until he feels it now between his thighs where connor is hovering, dark trousers and all. ]
Hot... [ he swallows under connor's palm, feels where skin meets skin, throat trembling. ] Really hot... you've got nice hands... [ he presses towards that hand, stretches into it the way a dozy cat stretches towards the sun, except more desperate for it. common sense dictates to rub it out himself, but desire (so rarely listened to in the back of juno's mind) says that he's allowed to have a little fun once in a while. the theia has no say in it, just running low background processes, humming warmly in his eye, rolling a little up with his own as he closes his eyes and drags a hand down connor's bare arm.
he lingers on bicep and elbow, forearm, mapping out the shape until he finds the hand around his throat, splaying his fingers over it and grabbing the wrist. ] You okay?
[ an after thought, which juno doesn't mean for it to be, but he wants to know, that little conscious part of himself shifting a little uncomfortably to close casually spread legs before, heels digging in with uncertainty but without the strength in them to actually push off the bed and walk away. his own body traps him, heat and weight, desire, all writhing in the pit of his belly like vipers, snapping at his insides. ] Like really okay. Not bullshit okay.