[ Leave it to Lyney to steal his promise right out from under him. He closes the gap between them before Wriothesley can make good on his word, kisses him open mouthed and greedy, Wriothesley meeting him there in need.
Warmth rises from somewhere low in his stomach, grows more intense with each taste of him, and Wriothesley finds himself inwardly cursing Lyney's decision to go to the ring and get himself injured. It's as if another two things have been swept from his reach by the magician's deft hand: first, the ability to protect him, and now the opportunity to carry him to the sofa and make a right mess of both of them. As it stands, he must be careful, must treat Lyney with the delicacy his injuries command. For now, he accepts it, forgives what he cursed just as soon, holding down the desires that play over within his mind. His hands find the curve of Lyney's waist and set themselves there lightly, poised to move if anything should hurt.
Lyney pulls back from the kiss, then sets his lips to his jawline, his neck--Wriothesley swallows thickly, throat bobbing, and admits aloud his earlier thoughts. ]
If you weren't injured... [ He sighs, tilts his head back. ] I don't know what I'd be doing to you right now. I'd...
[ The rest, whatever it is, catches in his throat, fades out with the slide of his hands over Lyney's thighs. ]
no subject
Warmth rises from somewhere low in his stomach, grows more intense with each taste of him, and Wriothesley finds himself inwardly cursing Lyney's decision to go to the ring and get himself injured. It's as if another two things have been swept from his reach by the magician's deft hand: first, the ability to protect him, and now the opportunity to carry him to the sofa and make a right mess of both of them. As it stands, he must be careful, must treat Lyney with the delicacy his injuries command. For now, he accepts it, forgives what he cursed just as soon, holding down the desires that play over within his mind. His hands find the curve of Lyney's waist and set themselves there lightly, poised to move if anything should hurt.
Lyney pulls back from the kiss, then sets his lips to his jawline, his neck--Wriothesley swallows thickly, throat bobbing, and admits aloud his earlier thoughts. ]
If you weren't injured... [ He sighs, tilts his head back. ] I don't know what I'd be doing to you right now. I'd...
[ The rest, whatever it is, catches in his throat, fades out with the slide of his hands over Lyney's thighs. ]