[ he's mixing up the bites with little red marks that he sucks into his skin, rough and messy as his hips move impatiently into the hand touching him through his clothes -- huffs; ]
[ his own pants are easy, pretty modern jeans to get undone, along with briefs under it. slot lets out a breathless laugh, finally taking whisky in hand ]
[ he's working at getting them down and there's a low hiss as he's finally grabbed; he doesn't resist the urge now to move into his hand, fuck into his grip, already worked up enough he doesn't want to wait ]
Re: [ day 60, night ]
[ continues to press against it, outlining it with his fingers as he tilts his head to the side and giving whisky more access to his neck ]
Re: [ day 60, night ]
Why would it be bad?
Re: [ day 60, night ]
Can't think of a reason.
Re: [ day 60, night ]
Good.
Re: [ day 60, night ]
Re: [ day 60, night ]