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[thirtythird]

@ wlawford
room 023; bunk 025 (with loki odinson)
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[ettersberg]

[ the unhurried pace of this is wonderful and terrible at once-- wonderful because there is no rush and they can savour this, each other, because they are both old enough that hurried encounters on the ground really ought to be a thing of the past, especially thomas. terrible, too, because thomas finds himself hard already, a low ache almost that he cannot help but be aware of.

he does nothing to speed things up.

(perhaps part of it is simply that he's always been-- obliging, more than not, in these matters. perhaps part of it is that he likes the ache of it, sweet as it is. perhaps it's that william kisses him and then kisses him again, lingering, and all thoughts of doing something about it leave his mind in favour of kissing back and gripping william's shoulders tight, fingers digging in.) ]

[thirtythird]

[Being clung to is terribly lovely. In a moment like this, it feels somehow more--not the desperation of clutching in a fumble but the wonderful tension of holding onto a moment, of enjoying and being enjoyed, of wanting to keep the dizzying sensation building together.

William can't help a little laugh, breathless and pleased, as he briefly pulls his lips away, fingers continuing their lazy pace.]

God, look at you.

[There's a gentle awe to the words. It's not just that Thomas is a delight to drink in, or that he looks all the more delicious when he's in this state of beginning to come undone. William can't quite put his finger on the thought, but he knows with absolute certainty that he needs to absorb every millimetre of the other man's face, every sensation and sound, every last drop of this moment.]

[ettersberg]

[ there's a gentle awe to the words and thomas finds himself caught up on it, still for a moment beneath william and caught in the moment. if he didn't need to breathe, perhaps he could stay like this forever, willingly trapped in william's gaze. there's a weight to it, but it is not oppressive in the least.

thomas finds himself smiling back, as unguarded as he'll ever be. ]

Will you-- [ a beat. he reaches up to curve a hand over william's cheek. ] I'd like you inside me.

[ there's still no real urgency, but-- oh, he wants that connection. that proximity. almost primly: ] Please.

[thirtythird]

[Wonderful. The entire moment is so entirely wonderful. The genuine smile, the gentle request, the warm touch at his cheek--each is a precious gift in its own right, and in combination it briefly knocks the wind from him.

He does have to untangle to accomplish the request, but that gives him a moment to catch at Thomas's chin for a firmer kiss.]

Since you asked so nicely.

[Everything's immediately cooler as he rolls back onto his side. Managing his own pants well enough is no trouble, but he'll need an assist with the other man's.]

[ettersberg]

[ for a long moment, thomas is still, catching his breath after that kiss and watching william take off his own trousers, revealing more and more skin. for a long moment, he only watches-- then he's reminded of the fact that he, too, is still wearing trousers by their atypical tightness and moves to undo them, push them down his hips.

ordinarily, he would fold them carefully. right now, he only manages to ensure that they're not entirely a crumpled pile of cloth by the side of the bed; it's very nearly impossible to take his eyes off william. ]

[thirtythird]

[Being watched is its own small thrill. Being studied and memorized, held under the warm weight of a fascinated gaze, curls almost as warm in his chest as touching and being touched.

Everything aches pleasantly as he frees himself and tosses his own clothes into a heedless pile. Everything feels soothed and joyful as he pulls himself back into Thomas's space, tugging gently to settle hips and legs with the same unhurried pace.]