John cannot make it much more obvious, how much he would disagree with Harry's assessment. His hand against Harry's spine is spread wide, trying to touch as much skin as he can. He's a gift slowly unwrapped, peeled out of that duster and too-big shirt, revealing so much to explore and mark. And Harry is letting him, is the most remarkable thing.
"Some other time," John bargains, and before Harry can counter that, he curves into Harry's body, his mouth finding a hollow below the ribs. What he does is only kissing in the sense that it involves lips and contact; he mouths at the little dip, learning the shape of it with his tongue, scoring the hot skin with his teeth. He only means to do it for a moment, until he's spread heat into this small point. But he tastes salt, left from the sweat worked up while battling a dryad.
When he's had enough at last, he leans up on his elbow again and starts painting again. "Believe me when I say that you are free to do whatever you like here. Though I rather enjoy you this way," John says. Yes, supine, yes, leaving himself in John's care. He smiles, tracing three loops like a Celtic knot, fond of the way the color stands out even against the new bruise John's just made.
His hand runs up and down Harry's side again, always quick to calm the man. His reticence is obvious, like he's never just let go in bed and been taken or cared for. It's not hard to believe that. Harry Dresden has control issues; John knows the signs from his own mirror. He'd love the man to relax and let John slowly wind him up until he can't take it any longer.
That would be easier with more room to work. In particular, John wants the deep, curved lines of Harry's hips. He lets his hand drift down Harry's belly, direction clear, before unzipping his pants. Slow enough that Harry can protest, but wasting no time.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-12-10 07:53 am (UTC)"Some other time," John bargains, and before Harry can counter that, he curves into Harry's body, his mouth finding a hollow below the ribs. What he does is only kissing in the sense that it involves lips and contact; he mouths at the little dip, learning the shape of it with his tongue, scoring the hot skin with his teeth. He only means to do it for a moment, until he's spread heat into this small point. But he tastes salt, left from the sweat worked up while battling a dryad.
When he's had enough at last, he leans up on his elbow again and starts painting again. "Believe me when I say that you are free to do whatever you like here. Though I rather enjoy you this way," John says. Yes, supine, yes, leaving himself in John's care. He smiles, tracing three loops like a Celtic knot, fond of the way the color stands out even against the new bruise John's just made.
His hand runs up and down Harry's side again, always quick to calm the man. His reticence is obvious, like he's never just let go in bed and been taken or cared for. It's not hard to believe that. Harry Dresden has control issues; John knows the signs from his own mirror. He'd love the man to relax and let John slowly wind him up until he can't take it any longer.
That would be easier with more room to work. In particular, John wants the deep, curved lines of Harry's hips. He lets his hand drift down Harry's belly, direction clear, before unzipping his pants. Slow enough that Harry can protest, but wasting no time.