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, |
Had he been slightly less caught up in the slide of his lips against David's, Finley might have complained that David's grip was wrinkling his shirt, and they still had quite a bit more party to get through before he went home and changed it. He'd have argued that the fact that he could likely set it to rights with no more effort than snapping his fingers didn't matter, that it was all about the principle of the thing. Since David's lips parted for him easily, let his tongue slide between them and sweep the inside of David's mouth, he forgot about that protest entirely.
Finley kissed David deeply, but slowly, taking his time to feel out the kiss, now that things were a little less desperate between them, the fire not yet fully blazing. More like it was banked, ready to be stoked into something that would leave them both scorched. Where scorched was fucked out, of course. Their first time, and the kisses that had come before it, had been a more frantic thing. Now, Finley took the time to appreciate the taste of alcohol on David's tongue, somehow more interesting than if he'd been the one to drink it, himself.
The thrumming of the speakers under their feet did block out quite a bit of the sense of other people near them, that they could be overheard. No one would overhear anything over that music, not enough to know precisely what it was that he and David were up to, in their cozy little nook. Only if someone was approaching would they have to worry, and Finley rather thought they'd slipped away early enough into the evening that David's friends wouldn't be ready to tear themselves away quite yet. They had a bit of time, at least, to enjoy each other.
David stepping closer felt like permission for more, and Finley slid his hand from David's hip to his ass, gripping through his jeans. The other went to cup the younger man's jaw, holding him firmly to the kiss as their lips pressed, softly clinging to one another with the suction of the kiss. He held their hips firmly together, no telltale bulge in Finley's pants quite yet. They'd just begun, after all, and there'd been enough time between those stimulating texts and this that he wasn't quite worked up enough, yet. He'd get there, though. Fast, if past experience was anything to go by.