The weight on his leg ought to alarm him, because it means he can't get away fast if something went wrong - but even Harry's paranoia had its limitations, and rather than glower at John, he softened under the man's weight. Nice. Warm. A physical body that he'd gone and made himself pretty familiar with a few weeks ago, and now it was back and close and drawing stupid patterns on his skin.
He doesn't get the fascination with his body though. With John's, he can see it. John is made of firm muscle and smooth planes, he's got biceps that Harry actually understands he wants to run a hand over and a neck he wants to keep on kissing, just to feel what it's like when John swallows-- but him? He's nearly seven feet of scrawny, disproportional human being. But the mouth on him tells a different story. Either the fruit is really good, or John just likes how he tastes.
"I'd start with putting you through the wall first." Harry opens an eye to glance at the other man, lest he start doing what he'd just suggested. Names? Drawn on his skin? Regardless of how temporary it'd be, he's not going to let John Marcone start walking down that road. He's not dumb enough to ignore what he'd seen during their soulgaze, that pristine power and the quiet obsession tucked away under a rug, just waiting and lurking.
Harry shivers though, because the teeth scraping against his skin are too nice and just enough of a reminder that he's bare up top and has another man - an undeniably dangerous man - half-pinning him down. Okay, maybe for a little bit longer. He can relax under John's hand and mouth and... let this happen. "Do I just--?" Stay here? Supine, with toes curling a little more whenever cold berry and hot mouth are exchanged? He's not used to inactivity, though it's not a bad feeling.
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He doesn't get the fascination with his body though. With John's, he can see it. John is made of firm muscle and smooth planes, he's got biceps that Harry actually understands he wants to run a hand over and a neck he wants to keep on kissing, just to feel what it's like when John swallows-- but him? He's nearly seven feet of scrawny, disproportional human being. But the mouth on him tells a different story. Either the fruit is really good, or John just likes how he tastes.
"I'd start with putting you through the wall first." Harry opens an eye to glance at the other man, lest he start doing what he'd just suggested. Names? Drawn on his skin? Regardless of how temporary it'd be, he's not going to let John Marcone start walking down that road. He's not dumb enough to ignore what he'd seen during their soulgaze, that pristine power and the quiet obsession tucked away under a rug, just waiting and lurking.
Harry shivers though, because the teeth scraping against his skin are too nice and just enough of a reminder that he's bare up top and has another man - an undeniably dangerous man - half-pinning him down. Okay, maybe for a little bit longer. He can relax under John's hand and mouth and... let this happen. "Do I just--?" Stay here? Supine, with toes curling a little more whenever cold berry and hot mouth are exchanged? He's not used to inactivity, though it's not a bad feeling.