( his breath hitches. it’s damning evidence. he tries to keep some version of a poker face alive, tries and fails. god, it’s a miserable attempt. his thoughts have devolved into oh god and he’s knuckle-deep in my waistband and the part of him that’s tipsy and shameless wants so fricking badly to help that along. know who’s a pro at tearing his own jeans off? archie. duh. that’s where he’s at. tempted but not enough to act on it.
( yet. )
whatever illusion he’s running with, whatever he’s been telling himself, it dies right then and there. one second he’s flirting with danger and the next he’s in too deep. he can feel the wet, hot heat of reggie’s tongue against the pad of his thumb and the slight pull of his mouth. his mind instantly plummets ( as if it had been anywhere close to pristine before ) and he drags reggie’s bottom lip down, retracts his finger languidly with no real intention of going anywhere. if he was curious prior to this, he's now absolutely fascinated. the reluctance, the guilt—things he's certain he ought to be feeling for almost literally dropping this in his lap glide off of him. he's not .. weirded out? he's not freaking out that archie's too close, that he's touching him, that his hand is working on being down his pants. that's basically all he needs to proceed, short of hearing keep going.
completely transfixed ( and not budging from that even slightly with the nudge of reggie's knee at his hip ) he slides his thumb back between his lips. he releases a soft and low: )Oh.
( mostly because of the implication of the slickness of his mouth on his skin, what else it makes him think about reggie's lips wrapped around and how dirty it is, for them. two guys, friends, that have never broached the subject. they haven't so much as kissed. )
Is this—? Is this okay? ( perhaps, a thing to ask prior to wanting to stuff fingers in his friend's mouth. )
no subject
( yet. )
whatever illusion he’s running with, whatever he’s been telling himself, it dies right then and there. one second he’s flirting with danger and the next he’s in too deep. he can feel the wet, hot heat of reggie’s tongue against the pad of his thumb and the slight pull of his mouth. his mind instantly plummets ( as if it had been anywhere close to pristine before ) and he drags reggie’s bottom lip down, retracts his finger languidly with no real intention of going anywhere. if he was curious prior to this, he's now absolutely fascinated. the reluctance, the guilt—things he's certain he ought to be feeling for almost literally dropping this in his lap glide off of him. he's not .. weirded out? he's not freaking out that archie's too close, that he's touching him, that his hand is working on being down his pants. that's basically all he needs to proceed, short of hearing keep going.
completely transfixed ( and not budging from that even slightly with the nudge of reggie's knee at his hip ) he slides his thumb back between his lips. he releases a soft and low: ) Oh.
( mostly because of the implication of the slickness of his mouth on his skin, what else it makes him think about reggie's lips wrapped around and how dirty it is, for them. two guys, friends, that have never broached the subject. they haven't so much as kissed. )
Is this—? Is this okay? ( perhaps, a thing to ask prior to wanting to stuff fingers in his friend's mouth. )