[ How is he going to explain those bruises to Nathan later? Probably not the line of thought to follow when Dresden was hitting him hard enough to leave marks, but once again: mead, prioritizing, they did not mix.
John was about to peel himself off Harry, unable to press the issue without Harry's willingness, when Harry stopped. It was only an indignant sputter before Harry dragged him back into the liplock.
To John, violence was a tool to be used. For Dresden, it was a force that seized him and fueled his power, resulting in conflagration and destruction. It wasn't quite under his control, from what John had witnessed. It was a release of pent-up emotions, and Gard had told John before that emotions were magic.
Harry couldn't sustain it. It was fuel, and it was consumed, and John at least subconsciously counted on that. He could hold on, take every sloppy hit and swallow every sound of frustration. Eventually, fires burned down. Even Harry's. Especially Harry's, John knew from the first look into the man's eyes.
When Harry moaned, John felt it vibrate through him, and swallowed the sound.
Easy, John mentally coaxed. He wanted to bite, to pay back Dresden's abrasiveness in kind, but throttled that urge. Not now. There could be time for that some other time. John settled a little to the side, still over Harry, but weight rested on his side and the floor. All just to free up a hand and explore more of the soft, vulnerable skin under Harry's chin. ]
[ Breaking off for a moment, John took a deep, shaking breath, drinking in the sight of Harry Dresden with bite-reddened lips and blown pupils. He'll want to remember this, in case there never is 'some other time.' ]
Like I said, [ he whispered, staring at Harry and brushing his thumb over the wizard's lips, feeling the thin scar that ran through them. ] it doesn't have to be hate.
no subject
John was about to peel himself off Harry, unable to press the issue without Harry's willingness, when Harry stopped. It was only an indignant sputter before Harry dragged him back into the liplock.
To John, violence was a tool to be used. For Dresden, it was a force that seized him and fueled his power, resulting in conflagration and destruction. It wasn't quite under his control, from what John had witnessed. It was a release of pent-up emotions, and Gard had told John before that emotions were magic.
Harry couldn't sustain it. It was fuel, and it was consumed, and John at least subconsciously counted on that. He could hold on, take every sloppy hit and swallow every sound of frustration. Eventually, fires burned down. Even Harry's. Especially Harry's, John knew from the first look into the man's eyes.
When Harry moaned, John felt it vibrate through him, and swallowed the sound.
Easy, John mentally coaxed. He wanted to bite, to pay back Dresden's abrasiveness in kind, but throttled that urge. Not now. There could be time for that some other time. John settled a little to the side, still over Harry, but weight rested on his side and the floor. All just to free up a hand and explore more of the soft, vulnerable skin under Harry's chin. ]
[ Breaking off for a moment, John took a deep, shaking breath, drinking in the sight of Harry Dresden with bite-reddened lips and blown pupils. He'll want to remember this, in case there never is 'some other time.' ]
Like I said, [ he whispered, staring at Harry and brushing his thumb over the wizard's lips, feeling the thin scar that ran through them. ] it doesn't have to be hate.