Black
light
Angelo bit his lip and held the
handcuffs in his hand, watching Jonothon watch him with uneasy eyes. Like
he’d suddenly asked too much, gone too far, pushed the limits of what
Angelo could tolerate. It had not been easy in the first place to somehow find
themselves both here, both somewhat content, and fucking each other’s
brains out on a nightly basis. The metal was cool against his fingers, and he
had too many bad things associated with them to bring himself into the game
Jonothon was asking to play.
Cops had cuffs, and he had
bracelets of scar tissue from them. Pinch too tight and you got a permanent
reminder. Scars and red lines running up from the bracelets. No, not handcuffs.
But the idea...Jono tied down so all he could do was take it, acquiesce to what
Angelo wanted...so much of their relationship was Jono, Jono, beautiful pale
Jono, taking them further and further. Calling the shots. Saying the words.
Pushing Angelo to what he had thought had been his limits and beyond them. Like
even a month ago he would have been able to accept the fact that he could
tonguefuck Jono and enjoy it. Of course, the radical changes to Jono’s
biochemistry made his body a cleaner place then most hospitals, but
still...rimming, it wasn’t something he could have done before.
“Maybe...not the
cuffs.”
Jonothon watching him with big
brown eyes, skin so white. Delicate, somehow, even when he was strutting around
in his leathers and Docs like he was the biggest bad ass to ever stalk out from
the night of London. One day, Angelo wanted to see Jono’s
Moment teetering on something,
and Angelo could feel the weight of his lover’s waiting settle onto his
shoulders. Made up his mind as he put the cuffs down on the table, fingers
stretching so he didn’t have to bend. Just stood, watching Jono watching
him, both of them waiting.
“Get your spare set of
bandages out of the closet, Jono.”
Could tell by the sudden heat
burning in the Goth’s eyes that he’d chosen the right thing, said
the right thing. Watched him wait for a heartbeat more, like he was considering
not doing it, and Angelo could feel his lips curl, teeth baring in a snarl.
Jono wanted to play. So, Angelo would do this right. Besides, the idea of
ordering his sometimes aloof and feline lover was appealing.
“Now.”
Saw the widening of those eyes he
loved to watch, so expressive. Like all of a sudden Jono had realized what he
had really done. Given over control, at least over the next hour or so to
Angelo. And that Angelo really was going to take advantage of it. That he
wasn’t going to be led more then this, the hint of the handcuffs and half
remembered fantasies and pictures in stroke mags that hinted at darker, deeper
things...and now that Jono had let him do it, that it wasn’t going to be
so easy to take back. Could feel an almost cruel for a moment smile curving his
lips, skin stretching into the demonic. A goateed Lucifer, drawn from the
graying pre-dawn light, and with wicked intent in mind. Oh si, si, Jono was
going to learn that sometimes Angelo could be bad too. That he wasn’t
always just about being the easy good natured amigo.
Felt the stuttering of thought
that was Jono about to speak and raised an eyebrow.
“No talking, Jono, mi amor.
Just do.”
Hesitation again for a moment,
and he could see, clearer then ever that Jonothon hadn’t really been
expecting this. For him to take control as easily as this. Grab it, hold it and
own it. Watched him move across to
the cupboard with his easy swaying movement that came from years on stage,
saying look at me and marvel, because I am sex on a stick and you shall worship
me thusly with his eyes. The bandages were black in his hands, held carefully
in looping spirals. And Angelo wanted, Dios, yes. Angelo took them off him,
feeling the slick slide across his palms of the latex. Bit his lip.
“Strip.”
It was heady, watching
Jonothon’s hands hesitate at the hemline of his shirt, before bending
forward to pull the shirt off and over his head. Long graceful arch of back
like a cat stretching, and that strip of white skin between the bandages and
the low waistband of his pants. Cotton fluttered as it fell to the floor, and
Jonothon bent to unlace his boots. Angelo prowled around him, watching, letting
the bandages slide through his hands before recoiling them. The soft rasp made
Jonothon shiver, just a little.
Strange, to be standing fully
clothed when Jono was finally naked. Except for the bandages. And as much as
he’d like for them to be off too, he wasn’t willing to really risk
the apartment on Jonothon’s self control. At least, not in this
situation. Not the first time they tried this. Running the edge of one
thumbnail down Jono’s back, it caught a little on the edges of the
bandage that was wrapped around his torso as Angelo leant in. Bit a little
harder then usual at the lobe of Jonothon’s ear as the Goth straightened
up, leaving his boots in a heap on the floor tangled with his jeans.
“Bueno...”
Possessive hands stroked down the
lines of Jonothon’s body, feeling the arch of each other’s body,
grey fingers sliding down white skin and resting on the hollows of thin hips.
Stroked just there, gently, feeling the arch of bone and heat radiating into
the palms of his hands, Jonothon’s head falling back against his shoulder
and those elegant hands holding onto his wrists.
Dug his nails into the skin under
his fingertips, felt his lover bend up into it and bit down hard enough to
taste the not quite copper of Jono’s not quite blood.
“This is what you want,
no?”
Hesitation, he could feel it
prickling at his mind. Licked the place on Jonothon’s ear that he’d
just savaged enough to draw blood, felt a shudder run all the way through the
other man’s body as the cool material of the bandages slid against his
skin. More then easy to bring Jono’s hands together in front of him and
loop the bandages in a knot that would keep them that way. Thoughts, fluttering
at the edges of his own like black butterflies. Tickled, a little bit. But not
enough to really distract him.
“Jono...mi amor.” It was only a few steps to
the bed, turning Jonothon to face himself and kissing that scrap of cheek that
was just over the edge of the bandages. Could feel the raw need that was
clawing at them both from the parts of the Brit’s mind that tangled in
with his own at times like this. “You never...” Never understand
why. Why he was wanted, why Angelo just ached for him like earth for the sun
and the rain, why there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Frustrated, tongue tangled with things he couldn’t
say and angry that Jono just never would
get it, too messed up with his own vision of himself, and his hands tightened
for a moment. Hard. Fingers lengthening and winding around the strange thinness
of Jonothon’s upper arms.
For a
guy who lugged around guitars and heavy band equipment, he always thought that
Jono should be more...well, built. Instead he looked like he was going to
break. From anything. Except he was a sight more durable then he looked,
gracias a Dios.
“Te
quiero...” Muttered it against his skin, holding back from actually
licking him again for the moment. Why didn’t he ever believe that Angelo
wanted him just because of who he was? Was this what this was about? Wanted
Angelo to hold him, keep him, with something stronger then just his hands. It
hurt his pride, that Jono thought he’d ever let him go unless he asked
and meant it. It shouldn’t but it did. He didn’t do things by
halves; he didn’t like to think his lover thought that he’d let him
go without fighting to keep him. Machismo, maybe, but it still hurt. “Do
you really want this? Tell me, Jono.”
*I...yes,
I do. Please.*
“Alright.”
They’d do it Jono’s way then. Angelo pulled the Goth in against
himself tighter, resisting the urge to grind the front of his jeans against
Jono’s nakedness. It would hurt, more then he wanted to hurt Jono.
Limits. This was all about limits. “If you want me to stop, if I do too
much, you need a word, no?”
*Y-yeah.*
Shuddering sigh in his arms, like Jono was too turned on to really think
straight. Angelo smirked slightly, corners of his mouth turning up in a wicked
grin. It was nice to think he could do that, when it was so often the other way
around. Or mutual. *Uhn. I dunno...just has to be something that wouldn’t
usually come up.*
“Hmmm...”
Angelo rubbed the side of his cheek along the gleaming darkness of
Jonothon’s hair, thinking and still touching him. Light glancing strokes
of his abnormally long fingers sliding along that milk pure skin. Like smudges
of ash against paper. Charcoal black bandages adding emphasis. Wrapped around
his shattered ribs like a chrysalis, hiding the butterfly of flames inside.
While on the one hand he understood Jono’s aversion to his own mutation,
he personally thought it was kinda...beautiful. Dangerous, no question. But a
tiger was dangerous too. A forest fire, raging out of control, was dangerous.
Perilous beauty. Maybe he just wanted to see how close he could get without
being burned. “What’s the name of that robot from the show you
like? That Red Dwarf one?”
*Uh... Kryten?*
“Si.
That’ll do, don’t you think?”
Soft
muffled chuckle, running through his brain as Jonothon shook like he would have
if he’d actually needed to breathe, had lungs to move air through and all
that other assorted equipment. Body remembering what it no longer needed to do.
So much of what he did was just that. Habit no longer needed, but done because
it was just what he was used to doing. Ingrained memory, carved onto a body
that had moved beyond its own former requirements. *Loony.* Angelo had to fight
his own urge to grin back, remembering the game they were playing here. If he
dropped out of character now, they’d never do this again. Jono might feel
too embarrassed to ask, or he might refuse. Had to do it now. Get the mood
back, get the whole thing right again.
“Hey,
is that anyway to be speaking to your master?” Quick smack of his hand
against one rounded buttock, making Jonothon yelp and jump a little. Felt
everything move back to the little bit scary, whole big bit arousing air it had
had before. Jono’s eyes were big and dark, bigger then they’d ever
looked before. Like they could swallow him whole. Hungry.
Easy
enough to tug on the lead of bandage that led back to what was looped around his
lover’s wrists, walk him to the edge of the bed. Knowing that the same
hungry ache that was pooling in his stomach was in Jono’s. You know,
along with the biofire or whatever the hell it was that made him go. Pushed him
down onto it, hands holding him pinned as he crawled onto the bed himself,
knees to either side of Jonothon’s closed legs. So pale underneath him,
except for the obsidian wrapping of the bandages. White and fair. Dropping his
head a little, Angelo smiled and then lightly kissed Jonothon’s forehead.
That got him a small crinkling around the eyes, which was just about the same
as Jono smiling.
“No
peudo vivir sin ti.” Felt the aching truth of it in the back of his
throat, words he wouldn’t be able to say in English but in Spanish they
just rolled off his tongue. Salt sweat skin under his tongue as he kissed the
edge of Jonothon’s face, feeling the thinness of the wrists in his hands
as he held them to the bed, his dick almost burning a hole through his jeans in
want and the way Jono’s hips thrust upwards in a demanding motion.
Obviously, he was going too slow. Ha. And he had to pretend like he knew what
he was doing, that he wasn’t feeling awkward at all. Wasn’t going
to give Jono a reason to regret asking for what he wanted, maybe what he needed.
Not ever. He didn’t ask for much from Angelo, he could do this. He could.
Really.
Please
God, let him do this right.
A
moment just to breathe, closing his eyes and biting again at the lobe of the
Brit’s ear, feeling dark hair brush against his face. Drew back, putting
his feet on the floor and standing up, leaving Jonothon on the bed, erection
hard against his stomach, and bare soles of his feet hanging just above the
floor. Hands above his head, still, ribbons of the bandages trailing across the
sheets like wicked dark chocolate drizzled across a plate. Something fancy,
expensive looking about him, lying there. Far too good to even eat.
“Hands
and knees...closer to the headboard though.” There was...the headboard
was just a plank of wood with a stupid little design carved out in the middle
of a flower. More then enough to thread the bandages through. Tie them. Dios.
Heart racing, thundering in his chest with this mix of want and need and
anxiety that somewhere along the line he was going to take the wrong step and fuck this up. Easy for Jono, who just
seemed to slide into everything with all the self assuredness of a slinking
back alley tom. Graceful arch as he turned over onto his stomach, pale curve of
his back and the perfect shape of his ass made Angelo’s dick even harder.
Dropped his hand to the front of his pants for a moment and squeezed, fighting
for some sort of self control. Waited for his breath to steady again before
taking the few steps around to near the top of their bed, top sheet already
pushed down to the bottom of the mattress. Crumpled, in soft hollows of patched
cotton cloth.
Picking
up the bandages, he fed the end of one trailing piece through, almost all the
way. There was still enough slack for Jonothon to move, just a little bit. Tied
it tight, but he knew he’d be able to get it undone after. Probably. If
he couldn’t, he had a knife that he usually carried, only not in the
house. Only when he went out. He might never touch a gun again, but he knew how
to handle a knife. Swift and slick and deadly. Bit the curve and hollow of
Jonothon’s shoulder, hard, knowing that here the flesh was solid enough
to take it. Felt the shudder run through his mind that was the pulse of thought
other then his own, something shimmering in front of his eyes. Bit down again
harder, tasting rubber and sweat, feeling the shift of Jono’s muscles
underneath against his tongue and a groan echoing through his head.
Shoulders
dropped down, forehead pressed to his crossed wrists, knees spread and ass high
up in the air, Jonothon was just gorgeous.
“You
can talk now.”
He
could feel Jono settling in against his mind a little closer, something
impossible to describe to someone who hadn’t spent a lot of time with a
telepath. At least a little time in bed with them as well. Could feel the Brit
looking at the thought in his head, held there in crystal detail, shudder
breaking it into pieces. Enough approval and curiosity there for Angelo to
actually do what he’d been thinking about. Heh. So maybe Jono
didn’t really know what he was doing either. Comforting.
The
palm print spread out red across the white of that perfectly shaped ass, echo
of the smack still ringing in both their ears. Traced the edge of that almost
stencil perfect hand shape he’d left with the edge of his fingernail,
feeling how much hotter the spanked skin was compared as to what was still
virgin territory. Es lindo. Dios, he was so fucking hard right now.
*Oh
bloody hell...”
“’S
good, mano?” Angelo asked with a dirty grin, watching a shudder ripple
its way all through his lover’s body like a wave. Butt still up high and
knees opened wide. He put one knee onto the bed, and Jono’s stance
wavered for a moment as he kneeled next to him on the ratty mattress before it
firmed back up again.
*Ngh,
yeah.*
“So
good.” Rubbed the pads of his fingers over the curve that of
Jonothon’s ass that led into the small of his back, down again to the
shadowed cleft and just ghosted a touch along there. Not even really dipping
down. Felt his skin almost drag, pouch around his bones, without him meaning it
to and it took a moment for him to tighten everything back up.
*Pleasepleaseplease...*
“Don’t
rush me.” Feeling the right tone coming easier now, commanding but not
patronizing. Masterful, right? Yeah. Waited a beat, then smacked Jono again,
watching the matching hand print spring up almost like magic. Barely a pause
before, he did again, open palm landing on the first red, red mark.
*FUCK*
Arch
and roll of Jonothon’s hips was somewhere between do that again and god,
that hurts movement, shoulders standing out in stark relief underneath the
bandages. Angelo just put his hand on Jono’s calf to hold him still, long
fingers stretching over the smooth muscle before his free hand landed on
reddening skin again. Hadn’t said the word yet, didn’t mean stop.
Breaking moans racing on quicksilver into his head and bouncing off the inside
of his skull, and there wasn’t anything in them that said that this was
enough. Widening his fingers and feeling skin flatten out to make his hand
bigger, they both felt the difference in the slap that followed. Heard it too.
Ricochet noise echoing around their crappy apartment and he hoped no one on
either side could hear them. That’d...be embarrassing.
*Ah
Christ! Ange!* Jono whined, hips moving in short sharp movements and fists
clenched hard into the sheets, balling the cloth up in his fingers. The
Hispanic paused for a moment, waiting for someone to bang on the walls or
something, before remembering no one cared. And besides, Jono was a teep.
Nobody was hearing the moans and gasps and soft begging words, except for him.
Just for him. He landed a few more hard blows on the now almost glowing skin of
Jonothon’s ass, feeling his lover rock back into the palm of his hand now
instead of wriggling away from it. *Bloody hell...*
“You
liked that,” Angelo muttered, knowing that Jono had but still somewhat
amazed by that fact. But hell, he’d liked doing it. Making Jono squirm
and moan, like some dying thing. “So bueno, gatito...” Gray hands,
soothing now, slid up between the slim thighs and then over the curve of the
skin they’d been tormenting. Angelo pressed his thumbs down into the
centre of each rounded cheek, before resuming the settling strokes, feeling his
lover shiver ever so lightly with each sweep of his long fingers.
“Mio...”
*Fucking
Christ, Ange, please...*
“Mmm.”
Angelo hummed a noncommittal sound, still stroking the pads of his fingers
lightly over the almost cherry red shade of Jonothon’s skin. Stepped off
the bed and unzipped his jeans, making a soft sound of relief as the pressure
of the denim over his erection eased. Dropping the pants on the floor, he then
grabbed the tube of Astroglide out of the cupboard by the bed before crawling
back onto it. “Turn over, amigo.” There should be enough slack in
the length of bandage tying him to the headboard to let him do it. His thought
was proved right as Jono did so, bandages almost, almost pulling his shoulders
out of joint and fingers curling inwards towards his palms. He let out a quiet
hiss into the other man’s head as his abused ass met the sheets of the
bed, cock rock hard against his body and leaking shiny trails of precome over
the white skin of his belly. Angelo loosened the knot a little and let more of
the bandage fed through to give the Goth more slack. “That should be
better, no?”
*Yeah.*
Jono drew down on the bonds for a moment, biceps defining as he did so. The
bandages shifted, glistening black surfaces throwing back the light from the
bare bulb that illuminated the dingy bedsit. Angelo resisted the urge to lick
his lips manfully, if he did say so himself. Jonothon drew his knees up and
back as Angelo settled between his thighs, slicked fingers already probing at
his pucker. *Ffffuck...*
“You
looks so gorgeous, chico.” Hot satiny heat around his fingers as he slid
them home, Jono’s back arching to thrust his hips back, trying to force
him to go faster. They were both at the edge of desperate, probably more Jono
then him. The feathery wisps of hair around his face were damp with sweat,
sticking to his skin. And how the fuck he managed to produce any sort of body
liquid, Angelo had no idea and he wasn’t going to ask. It’d
probably end up being something so weird he’d give himself a bad case of
the wiggins. “So fucking pretty, like this.”
*Nnnh!*
Low
keening noise razoring through his thoughts like nothing else as he stroked his
fingers almost viciously over the nub inside Jono’s body, the one that
made him go crazy wild as he readied his lover for what was coming next. Hips
moving as much as they could with his feet planted on the mattress and hands
secured above his head. Didn’t take more then a thought to push more skin
onto his fingers, making them wider and larger, and Jonothon’s keening
took on a more urgent edge, an occasional profanity reverberating along with it
just for good measure. He kissed the sharp bump of Jonothon’ hipbone,
tracing his tongue along it and ignoring other parts that he was sure his lover
would much rather he put his mouth on.
Withdrawing
his fingers and listening to the Brit’s needy moan of loss, he hooked Jono’s
legs over his shoulders as he moved up to feather a kiss across his forehead.
Pushing gently forward with his hips, he felt the head of his cock nudge
against the stretched hole it was so eager to get into. Waited for a moment,
just kissing Jono for a moment and loving it.
“You
ready, baby? Gonna fuck you so hard…”
*Get on
with it, yer tosser!*
Jono
was sounding frustrated, and he couldn’t really blame him. But that sort
of tone didn’t belong here, not with this. He bit at the graceful bend of
Jonothon’s arm, hearing the telepathic yelp just fine. Teethmarks
blossomed like flowers after rain, red and raw looking.
“Say
you’re sorry, mi gatito, for being disrespectful.”
Dangerous
pause where Angelo waited with almost bated breath, before Jono fell back into
the game.
*’M
sorry.*
Bueno.
“Long as
you’re…sorry.” He thrust his hips forward and pulled back on
Jono’s, pushing his way inside Jonothon’s body hard. All the way in with just one shove. Jono’s back arched
like a bow being pulled tight, ricocheting scream bouncing off the inside of
his skull and going straight down into his spine. He panted raggedly for a
moment, fighting not to come right now at the feel of his lover around his
cock, and the fact that his ass was still warm from the spanking. So good. So,
so good. Sex with Torres had been fun good times, he’d had had just as
much fun as she had. If the moaning was anything to by, she’d had a lot.
Pussy was fantástica, he loved it. Soft shapely curves of a
woman’s body, tits and hips and everything so soft. Jono...Jono was just
something else. This whole higher level. Heat and hard lines, so real. So there.
More then anything else in his life. “Ohhh, Jono...”
*Move, Jesus, please, move!*
Almost kneeling on the bed,
Jono’s ankles locked together against his shoulder blades, Angelo started
to move. Didn’t matter know who was tied up or meant to be in control.
What was important was that they both reached that glimmering light he could
feel coming up, energy racing through his veins so fast it burned. Urging him
to thrust harder, really pound Jono through the mattress. Just like he wanted.
The way they both wanted. Leaned forward, hips pumping and fucking Jonothon as
hard as he could in this position, getting, Dios, so deep, and landed a desperate kiss on the swathe of bandages that
stretched across where the other man’s mouth should be. Blank empty space
that should have a gasping, moaning mouth, but it didn’t matter. Jono was
complete just how he was. By how loud Jono’s voice was in his head, he
didn’t really want to think about the complaints if he’d actually
been making them vocally anyway. Yow. They already had enough issues with their
neighbours without adding obnoxiously loud, kinky, gay sex to it.
People got so irrational when
they were jealous of other people’s sex lives.
*Ah, ah, ah, ah! Ye-eah, fuck,
CHRIST, fuck me! Fucking god fuck yessss…*
Long musician’s fingers
curled over into fists, grasping at nothing as the bed rocked underneath them
both. The headboard banged into the wall repeatedly with soft thuds as Angelo
panted in short, sharp bursts in rhythm with his movements. Breathing heavy and
feeling sweat roll down his face and along the slope of his back, hips smacking
hard against the inside of Jono’s thighs with the dull sound of skin on
skin. Heavy and wet noises echoing. Couldn’t speak, just feel, moan,
gasp, groan. Animal dumb noises, since any higher function was on vacation for
the present time. Overloaded.
*JonotequieroJonoJONO*
Couldn’t say it. Just think
it. So loudly, he had to be screaming it back to the telepath. Undisciplined,
erratic burst of thought static, but he was being driven just out of his mind.
Wanted to share it, the nearly orgasmic rush racing through his body like the
best drugs, better then anything he’d ever been able to afford. Having
sex with Jono was like dropping acid, but without the bad trips being anything
close to included.
*SocloseohgodsosoANGELOyesfuckplease*
*TequieroteamominoviosotightgodChristsogood*
*FUCKYES*
Thoughts echoing back and forth
between them, snapping like electric sparks along a cable. So close in together
there was barely nothing separating one from the other. The thoughts were the
same anyway, more and yes and fuck and harder. He could feel Jono’s
orgasm almost before it began, crescendo of raging light that crashed down
inside his head as his lover stiffened underneath, hot splash on his stomach
signaling the other man’s physical release. Caught and dragged under by
it, coming so hard his back arched as he threw his head back, spray of sweat
turned into diamonds for an endless moment by the light that was shining
overhead.
Holding on so tight to Jonothon
with his mind and his hands, buried deep inside him like he would never leave
as the ecstasy rolled them both in under itself. So deep under in a blaze that
rivaled the fiercest forest fire. He couldn’t even see, staring blind with
pleasure and hearing Jono sob, voice breaking with bliss before the world came
crashing back in, breaking the endless circuit of feedback that had been
looping between them. Feeding each other their orgasms, bouncing back and
sending it again. Collapsing down, he caught himself before he leant in against
Jono’s hollow chest, even though he wanted nothing more then to lay his
head against it. The bandages wouldn’t support that kind of weight, and
that thought brought reality back in even further.
He felt almost liquid, and he had
to look at his arms to check that his skin wasn’t sagging. Nothing. He
looked right, normal, but man oh man. That had been some good sex. Cosmic, even. Something that would rival nirvana.
Jonothon still looked out of it, brown eyes dazed and hazed with sexual
gratification. He slid out slowly, hating it, and got out of the way, letting
Jono put his legs down before they cramped. Charley horses made Jono whine
– wait, whinge. British version of whining, apparently. Slowly, he undid the
knot that held the Goth’s wrists against the headboard, rubbing the thin
bands of red away as he sat next to Jono on the bed.
*...bloody hell, Ange.*
“Si.”
*That was...fuck. That
was…*
Jonothon rolled his head back on
his neck, letting Angelo’s strong fingers work at the hard muscles in his
shoulders. The gray mutant smiled slightly, massaging out the knots in
Jono’s neck and shoulders as he watched him struggle to form a coherent
thought to express what had just happened. Something had opened up. Something
big and important. And they hadn’t meant to do it.
He wondered just what the hell
Jono had done, and knew that the fledgling telepath would be wondering himself.
It wasn’t like they really had anyone to talk to about this stuff. They
had both decided, after watching Xavier on the television, that the bald man
was exceptionally fucking freaky and just needed a long haired cat to complete
his James Bond villain persona. No X-Men for them, gracias.
“Let’s just say it
was fucking good.”
Crow’s laughter, raucous
and cawing as Jonothon indulged in a moment of pure amusement. Didn’t
happen often, so Angelo smiled too. Chuckled, and kept working away at the
tenseness across the upper half of his lover’s body. It felt good just to
touch Jono like this, even if it was through the bandages.
*Hnh, yeah.*
“We should get cleaned up,
yeah?”
*Oh yeah. I’m sitting in
the biggest bloody wet spot, you fucking arsehole.*
Despite Jonothon’s
disgruntled tone, they just sat for a few moments longer. Thinking. And
touching.
Feeling the last of that awesome
feeling drain away, leaving them merely satiated.