Somehow Michael felt beyond dirty and wrong, seeing that pale as porcelain body with sprigs of fiery orange everywhere. He knew it was a big mistake, but if his penis had full say he'd have every awkward inch of said ginger in equally awkward ways. His eyes lit up with a dark curiosity, a peculiar flare of taboo desire.
Michael's gut was twisting, bleating like a enfeebled goat to remind Michael that "HELLO! BREASTS?!" were much better than this. His cock was drowning it out though. Jack did have an odd, pretty shape that made Michael feel like a pervert. Like many so "dark" and forbidden things that drew Michael like a moth, so he could also see the allure here. He felt for the first time, if even for a moment, he understood why Terry wanted to do this.
Michael's eyebrow cocked at the body splayed out in front of him but his blue eyes were unflinching in their attention as they swept the form. The weirdest tickle came when Michael saw Jack's erection, but more the way his glutes swept up into a tight crease and the bulb of Jack's taint that led to the boy's sex. He knew what was there. He knew what blokes did to each other there.
The kiss shook Michael out and he kissed back. His tongue darted into Jack's mouth for the briefest of seconds, almost an afterimage of intention. It broke with a soft pop and he felt his body arching with instinctive expectation when ginger started to move his head lower. Michael watched with rapt attention, this head moving lower and lower. He realized his hands were on Jack's neck and if the guiding push down wasn't enough sign for Sloper, the two gentle taps of his dick against Jack's chin surely were. They met eyes and Michael pressed again, the rosey pink of his head skittering with a misdirected thrust against Jack's cheek. His hands pressed down with one last, insistent gravity and his breath hitched in anticipation.