Finley Melville ♛ Crowley (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} swelltricks) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} thereincarnates, |
Really, Finley had suspected that David might have had a bit to drink, to work up the courage to send Finley that first text, and continue to flirt with him in the ones following it. He wasn't entirely sloshed, but Finley could see the telltale signs of it. Eyes a bit bright, face a bit flushed, movement a bit less fluid, less subtle, than usual. Not that David was precisely subtle at the best of times, of course, but moreso than to stumble toward him like he had. Finley raised a hand, braced David's shoulder with it and squeezed, gently, before letting it drop again. "It is nice to feel as though you're appreciated."
Drunk or not, David did look good. The neck of his shirt dipped low enough to show a bit of chest, and Finley's eyes were drawn to it as if magnetized. He knew exactly what lay beneath that shirt, now, and while that should have killed a bit of the mystery, and a bit of the interest, it really didn't. Finley wanted to get his hands up under it even more, grip on to David's sides and pull him in again, press their bodies together. The flirtation, and fumbling attempts at sexting, of their texts, and the amusement that Finley had felt at David's try at it, flared into sudden intense interest.
"Isn't it, Squirrel? Nice to feel... wanted?" Finley licked his lips, eyes trailing David from head to toe. He certainly wanted David, and it didn't take any great observational skills to realize that David wanted him, too. He wasn't about to pounce, though, not so easily. Not until he could drag David off somewhere, of course. If David was willing to admit that he wanted it, of course. Somehow, Finley didn't think that was going to be a problem.