Priestly

Continued from here...

"So, apart from getting me naked, what else you got in mind?"

"I hadn't really made a list," says Priestly, though he certainly could if he tried. Actually, he didn't even really have to try. "You sure you want to give up...drawing whatever you were drawing there? Reminds me I need to get you to draw on me again some time soon."

"It's only a sign," says Tunny, arching an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure I can leave it for a while. I got an hour or so until I've got to pick the girls up."

"A guy can do a lot in an hour," says Priestly, blatantly looking him up and down again and barely resisting the urge to just crawl on top of him. Jesus. "But maybe not on the lawn.

"It's a little bit public, isn't it?" says Tunny, getting to his feet and dusting off the seat of his shorts, stretching his arms up over his head and arching his back. "You not into that, man?"

Jesus God is he ever into it; if he wasn't already turned on, he would've been just thinking about that. But. "Only when there's not a good chance of kids stopping by," he says, reluctantly. "Upstairs?"

Priestly's done this so many times now he could practically do it in his sleep, washing up the kitchen, putting pots and pans away, helping drunk patrons out the door and storing all the food. But there's one person he doesn't urge out the door at closing time, and it doesn't feel quite like business as usual, as familiar as all the tasks are.

"Looks like you closed the place down," he says as he hangs the last of the glasses. "Could probably serve you one more, if you like, since there are no actual, you know, liquor laws or anything."

Brooke's on Yorick-watch when Priestly heads home for a shower, a change of clothes, and Jen. Not necessarily in that order. The shower, of course, has to be had at the compound, but looking for Jen and finding something to wear can probably be killed with one stone if she's at their hut. Which if he's lucky and has shown up early enough in the day, she will be.

"Jen?" he's saying before he even reaches the open doorway. "Jen, you home?"

Sorry I didn't call, he thinks with a bit of a wry twist to his lips. Things sure are different on the island.

[ continued from here ]

"Me either," Yorick says, feeling all warm and crazy, because holy shit, he's a whole package? "But you're...fuck, your mouth was like, made for kissing. And don't you fucking laugh, I haven't even kissed you and I already know."

But now he's talking too much, and crap, his heart's beating like five hundred times a second, so he just tugs Priestly closer and does it. Yorick kisses him, and it's a little weird, but it's soft and...fuck...soft.

Priestly's glad Yorick did it first because at the rate he was going he was never going to get there. And yeah, he knows he's a good kisser, actually, because he's always been a person who has to try just a little harder than everyone else when it comes to this, to prove something, but Yorick's, you know, pretty good too. Okay, very good. Okay, good enough that Priestly pretty much doesn't want to stop once they start, except to breathe once in a while because all the wine plus lack of oxygen does funny things to his head.

Priestly tastes like the wine, but better than wine, his mouth is wet and warm and Yorick licks his way inside, hands tightening around his shirt.

"Mm...should've...listened to Starbucks," Yorick moans around Priestly's lower lip, worrying it with his teeth before sucking on it and kissing him again.

Priestly can't fucking breathe, he can't, and has to pull away for a moment, leaning his forehead against Yorick's and closing his eyes. "It's Boaz," he says breathlessly. "My name. And don't you dare ever use it." Then he grabs at him and kisses him again so he can't even answer.

Yorick's too busy kissing to answer, pressing closer and closer to Priestly until he's practically in his lap. "No," he says, sucking in a breath, his mouth pressed to Priestly's even as he talks. "I like it." A kiss. "It's good." He shoves a hand up Priestly's shirt, spreading his fingers along all that warm skin. "Boaz, fuck..."

"It's still Priestly," he says, fingertips slipping up inside Yorick's shirt in return, pressing into his skin. He feels flushed all over, hot and short of breath and dizzy with wine and desire. Right now this seems like a good idea. A great idea. Maybe the best idea ever.