![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jun. 7th, 2009 10:44 pm[ 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.
"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.
