Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven - Saturday Morning
Jamie awake was noisy, as a rule, because he never really stopped talking unless his mouth was otherwise occupied -- but Jamie mostly-asleep was giving a solid run at it, too. The arm that draped over Seven’s hips for a moment’s span was dead weight and proprietary in an unselfconscious way, where Seven had a feeling that Jamie awake would have hesitated and carefully leveraged the value of casual touch that wasn’t a direct lead-in to an immediate fuck. But this version of Jamie was wholly unconcerned with appearances, or parsing meaning and motive where Seven wouldn’t have thought twice about it. His hair was a riot atop the pillow that tickled Seven’s ear and cheek as the guy flopped back over in the other direction, his arm still trapped under Jamie’s neck.
“So noted,” he said, a sleep-thick rumble low in his chest as it shook slightly with another chuckle. From the brief glance he’d gotten at his phone’s clock as it tumbled off the nightstand, he knew that he had a few more hours before he had to be back at home. After that it was a day off from the suits in the Capital, which meant he’d probably head to The Bar to get some work done there. And if he was a little late, Tommy could fucking deal, without the goddamned raised eyebrows and knowing looks, yeah? Seven closed his eyes and rolled onto his side in pursuit of Jamie’s warmth and not having his arm go completely fucking numb, not to mention dislodging the thoughts of Tommy from his bed.
“Then stop talking.” This last mumbled against the top of Jamie’s head as he cast his other arm around the guy’s ribcage in a loose hold, pressing up against him from chest to thigh.