Those calluses he could feel on Jack's fingertips when he held his hand are even more evident when he brushes a delicate touch across James's face, and James's eyes flicker shut for the faintest of moments. Jack, he has to say, is damn good at this. That rough, raspy quality his voice seems to have acquired sends the heat in James's veins flushing further, rising up his ears and neck.
But it also gives him an out. He almost smirks at the thought, before leaning in to brush his lips against Jack's, oh so soft; as chaste as a kiss can possibly be. His moustache tickles a little against James's upper lip, and he smiles as he pulls back, propping his head up on one hand.
'Taking pretty things?' He murmurs, mockery lacing every syllable. 'And here I thought we'd talked about presumptuousness.'
And with that, he rolls back onto his back, staring back up at the night sky.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 12:49 am (UTC)But it also gives him an out. He almost smirks at the thought, before leaning in to brush his lips against Jack's, oh so soft; as chaste as a kiss can possibly be. His moustache tickles a little against James's upper lip, and he smiles as he pulls back, propping his head up on one hand.
'Taking pretty things?' He murmurs, mockery lacing every syllable. 'And here I thought we'd talked about presumptuousness.'
And with that, he rolls back onto his back, staring back up at the night sky.