Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven - Saturday Morning
Seven wasn’t sure that clean came into play, when his fingers were still sorta sticking together as the guy’s jizz dried there where his hand rested limp against Jamie’s hip. But the sentiment was the same. He was broken down into separate parts, separate motions in slow, agonizing protests of his muscles where he’d been clenched tight down to his toes. He heaved a hot, humid sigh against the nape of Jamie’s neck where it joined his shoulder and straightened his spine a little, but pulling the guy back with him so that they didn’t have to deal with the uncomfortable pull of sweat unseaming where their skin had practically molded together.
The jolt of breathless, ragged laughter that reverberated between Jamie’s spine and his belly tugged him up from just beneath the lap of soothing, sleepy waves that wanted to press him down into darkness even as the light crept up the walls around them. “No problem,” he mumbled, muzzy and managing the slightest kink of smile into one cheek. His chin settled casually against the crown of Jamie’s head. “Anytime.”
And he didn’t exactly groan when Jamie mentioned time, because time was the reality and reality could go fuck itself right now so that he could stay warm and languid aftershocks of the ache in his balls after they’d emptied between the slickness of the guy’s thighs. But he huffed, ruffling strands of Jamie’s hair and cracking one eye open to judge the light. His arm slid back around Jamie’s waist, just because it was more comfortable that way. “‘nother couple of hours max, then I gotta shower and drive back. Can get a ride if you want. S’cheaper.” Cheaper than an Uber, less disgusting than the bus, was what he didn’t say because he was slipping deeper.