Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven - Saturday Morning
Seven could do the patter. He could do the charming, the sweet-talking, to a point and then the ghetto crawled back out of the woodwork and he lost the patience for it. He liked that about the thing that wasn’t a Thing, with Jamie -- they hadn’t ever had to wade through the fluff to get to the meat and the marrow. Jamie’d had his full attention while they were in the same vicinity, from the first night they hooked up. The benefit of something with direct intent rather than trying to score a random in a bar, yeah? And so maybe it was surface some of the time, but there was also the real shit in between. The all-consuming lust, the fervor, that shit was real, and yeah, it was validation.
Rolling over into warmth and slotting closely in behind the guy, he’d already been half-hard, remnant of the trailing fingers of sleep and then lying awake and remembering the weight and heat of Jamie sitting astride his lap last night. And then Jamie made a soft, sleepy noise of pleasure that rang golden and bloomed in Seven’s belly as the guy shoved back and Seven’s dick twitched, pure call and response, and he tightened his arm where it was slung around Jamie’s middle.