Harry strikes out with his teeth, and earns himself soft touches in return. He's playing Battleship and sinking all his own ships, John's playing Chess and has king in the corner pocket. Nothing matches up. The combination of booze and frustration loosens one of Harry's hands from the man's shirt, and he lashes out at John's shoulder - the angle minimizes the damage he could do, but he doesn't pull the punch. What the fuck are you doing, the gesture demand, accusing him of utter lunacy. (What sort of reaction is that? You bite the guy, and he treats you nice and soft when you most certainly do not want "nice and soft".) No matter how nice John's thumb feels running across that spot, and how easy it'd be just to melt, he won't. It's too easy, too unlike Harry, and he just plain won't. ]
No, you--. [ He draws breath to protest, but cuts himself off to start round two. The hand he'd used to beat the tar out of John's shoulder in frustration moves instead to fit the curve of his neck, fingers pressing against his pulse. The initial anger in his snapping teeth and hard kisses can't last, John's softer ministrations in retaliation may feed into his frustration, but it's been a while since anyone's been at his throat without choking the breath from his lungs. Unbidden and unwanted, Harry makes some noise of yes that's nice stop and i swear i'll take your head off you can pick which one and his angry bites blur into still-rough kisses, trying to goad John into something other than what he's doing.
John never does what's fucking expected of him either, that's the catch. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-03 02:50 am (UTC)Harry strikes out with his teeth, and earns himself soft touches in return. He's playing Battleship and sinking all his own ships, John's playing Chess and has king in the corner pocket. Nothing matches up. The combination of booze and frustration loosens one of Harry's hands from the man's shirt, and he lashes out at John's shoulder - the angle minimizes the damage he could do, but he doesn't pull the punch. What the fuck are you doing, the gesture demand, accusing him of utter lunacy. (What sort of reaction is that? You bite the guy, and he treats you nice and soft when you most certainly do not want "nice and soft".) No matter how nice John's thumb feels running across that spot, and how easy it'd be just to melt, he won't. It's too easy, too unlike Harry, and he just plain won't. ]
No, you--. [ He draws breath to protest, but cuts himself off to start round two. The hand he'd used to beat the tar out of John's shoulder in frustration moves instead to fit the curve of his neck, fingers pressing against his pulse. The initial anger in his snapping teeth and hard kisses can't last, John's softer ministrations in retaliation may feed into his frustration, but it's been a while since anyone's been at his throat without choking the breath from his lungs. Unbidden and unwanted, Harry makes some noise of yes that's nice stop and i swear i'll take your head off you can pick which one and his angry bites blur into still-rough kisses, trying to goad John into something other than what he's doing.
John never does what's fucking expected of him either, that's the catch. ]