[The last of his usual restraint slips away when the pressure targets itself directly between his legs, McGillis's tongue once more in his mouth. Pleasure runs like a shot of lightning, so fast it's hard to tell where it started and where it reaches last. He can't help the incremental stutter of his hips, right into that firm, broad muscle.
How telling. The drugs and the missed time are still there, urging him, but it's the force of nature standing before him that's doing him in most of all, only making his want grow. Literally, no doubt he can feel that by now, no trappings in Jeremiah's standard method of dress to conceal it. For every misstep, every slight, he'll have to just show his sincerity other ways, with his body. It's in the mindful grip in his hair, his lips ravenous but letting himself be kissed more than lead it. His hands, however, only press more firmly when he feels McGillis's weight in it. It's still so hard to actually grip anything, so he doesn't stay put, instead trying to map everything he can. The firm give of muscle is so good, though different through the unfamiliar suit, wrapped around springy and tight.
This nickname really leaves something to be desired, but he'll leave it if it doesn't prod that terrible ego for a while longer. A discussion for another time. He's busy cupping the swell in McGillis's suit, now that he's been properly introduced. Stroking slow, but squeezing firm enough, feeling out as much as he can. His words come out hushed, still panting.]
That may take too long to prepare for.
[It's not going to work if he just slicks up and sticks it in, that's for sure. Jeremiah's absolutely not patient enough for that much preparation right now, not what it would take with him so out of practice. Will it even fit in his mouth?]
God. [Jeremiah sighs it, slipping out before he can stop. He grips a little firmer, carefully. Wanting. Not necessarily for his specific words, just wanting him.]
no subject
How telling. The drugs and the missed time are still there, urging him, but it's the force of nature standing before him that's doing him in most of all, only making his want grow. Literally, no doubt he can feel that by now, no trappings in Jeremiah's standard method of dress to conceal it. For every misstep, every slight, he'll have to just show his sincerity other ways, with his body. It's in the mindful grip in his hair, his lips ravenous but letting himself be kissed more than lead it. His hands, however, only press more firmly when he feels McGillis's weight in it. It's still so hard to actually grip anything, so he doesn't stay put, instead trying to map everything he can. The firm give of muscle is so good, though different through the unfamiliar suit, wrapped around springy and tight.
This nickname really leaves something to be desired, but he'll leave it if it doesn't prod that terrible ego for a while longer. A discussion for another time. He's busy cupping the swell in McGillis's suit, now that he's been properly introduced. Stroking slow, but squeezing firm enough, feeling out as much as he can. His words come out hushed, still panting.]
That may take too long to prepare for.
[It's not going to work if he just slicks up and sticks it in, that's for sure. Jeremiah's absolutely not patient enough for that much preparation right now, not what it would take with him so out of practice. Will it even fit in his mouth?]
God. [Jeremiah sighs it, slipping out before he can stop. He grips a little firmer, carefully. Wanting. Not necessarily for his specific words, just wanting him.]