Re: [Climbing: Patrick & Newt]
All right, so Patrick wasn't making any decisions. Then, Newt was prepared to follow the firing line of impulses where it led. And, one might blame the month of relative abstinence, along with his own too-overt interest in Patrick for Newt's own soft-bough limb-limn of desperation. Patrick was bent over him, immovable iron, and Newt swallowed up the moan when it slipped the sieve of the other man's lips. He didn't savor it. He took it, like a man living day-to-day, hand-to-mouth, he took what he could when it was there. It did terrible things to him, that sound, and it piqued his interest far, far too much. He tried to stave off his own greed, to sate it with scraps. He was fairly successful. But, it was made quite a bit more difficult when he became aware, tangentially, of Patrick's erection, paired with the insistent and fire-stoke kisses.
The chalk-white tips of fingers brushed brim at Patrick's earlobe, low and safe, as Newt tried terribly hard not to flex his fingers. He made a small sound, near a sigh, kept back by teeth coming to plump, freckled bottom lip, when Patrick finally pulled back. He was breathing heavily, more heavily than he'd done even climbing the wall. Wordless, Newt nodded as he swallowed, feeling Patrick's fingers hooked behind his ear. "Shall I...?" Apparate. A smile skittered with a scatter of golden gaze as Newt quite deliberately did not look down between them. He tipped his head to the side, against Patrick's fingers, and he let his own hands shift to the man's chest, though they didn't stray. "Or, ah, do you want to climb... down?"