![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[kiss prompt] shindrift - spine
[Rated M, nsfw]
The room is too warm by the time Shin pulls out from Drifter, chest heaving and forehead pressed to the back of Drifter’s neck. The aftershocks of pleasure make him leave a careless trail of kisses down Drifter’s sweat-slicked back, and Drifter mumbles something into his arm, face down and spine curving the lower Shin goes. Shin stops at his mid-back, gives Drifter’s ass a satisfied pat, and eases up.
His hand is still resting on Drifter’s backside when Drifter’s mumbling becomes a little clearer, still muffled, but Shin definitely hears his name and then a quiet, “No, don’t stop.”
Shin pauses. He glances at Drifter’s ass, the mess between his legs and the sheets beneath them, and then at his own dick, which is, as humble as he is, probably done for now.
“You’re friskier than usual,” Shin comments. He blows out a sigh, and tries to think of dirty thoughts to get him going again. Damn, he’s just plain sleepy now. “Gimmie ‘bout ten minutes.”
There’s an indignant sputter from Drifter’s end of the bed. His shoulders hunch up, but he’s not looking back at Shin. In fact, judging from Drifter’s reddening ears and neck, Shin figures he only wants to sink and disappear into the mattress for whatever reason.
“Or,” Shin tries again, “if y’got something else that’ll make do—”
“Fuck. No. Not sayin’ I wanna go again,” Drifter grits out, face still buried. He waves a hand back, annoyed. “Forget I said anything.”
Easier said than done. Shin retraces his memory, meandering and hazy, and it really can’t be anything other than fucking. He hadn’t done anything unusual, until they were done and Shin was content enough to put his mouth—
Shin frowns. He lowers himself back over Drifter, and uses the way Drifter tenses up to confirm what he thinks. From there, Shin presses a couple of kisses down Drifter’s back.
He feels rather than sees Drifter scrunch himself up again, likely embarrassed and uneasy, and some small part of Shin echos the same wariness, like this whole interaction can’t be real, or trusted.
“Was it this?” he asks over Drifter’s skin. He leaves another kiss right between the shoulder blades. “C’mon. I ain’t here for a guessing game.”
Drifter’s reply comes through gritted teeth like Shin’s trying to wrench the answer out of him. “Yeah. That.”
There’s a lot of things Shin could say in return — never figured you for the soft type, never thought you’d ask for this, I shouldn’t be allowed to know — but he only makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement and kisses down Drifter’s spine again.
Drifter lifts his head. Shin can tell he’s trying to glance behind him, and Shin is sure the second he looks up Drifter will turn away. So he doesn’t. Just rests his forehead against Drifter’s flushed skin for a moment, not quite nuzzling, but not still enough say that he’s stopped moving all together.
Drifter goes back to mumbling into his arm. “Yeah,” he says, “I like it. When you…” he mutters off, but by now Shin gets the gist of it. Drifter might not see it, might never believe it, but Shin’s burning too, from the inside out.
They aren’t going to catch each other off guard again for a long time. Shin brushes one last kiss at Drifter’s neck before flopping down beside him, and closes his eyes to Drifter’s weight pressing close.
The room is too warm by the time Shin pulls out from Drifter, chest heaving and forehead pressed to the back of Drifter’s neck. The aftershocks of pleasure make him leave a careless trail of kisses down Drifter’s sweat-slicked back, and Drifter mumbles something into his arm, face down and spine curving the lower Shin goes. Shin stops at his mid-back, gives Drifter’s ass a satisfied pat, and eases up.
His hand is still resting on Drifter’s backside when Drifter’s mumbling becomes a little clearer, still muffled, but Shin definitely hears his name and then a quiet, “No, don’t stop.”
Shin pauses. He glances at Drifter’s ass, the mess between his legs and the sheets beneath them, and then at his own dick, which is, as humble as he is, probably done for now.
“You’re friskier than usual,” Shin comments. He blows out a sigh, and tries to think of dirty thoughts to get him going again. Damn, he’s just plain sleepy now. “Gimmie ‘bout ten minutes.”
There’s an indignant sputter from Drifter’s end of the bed. His shoulders hunch up, but he’s not looking back at Shin. In fact, judging from Drifter’s reddening ears and neck, Shin figures he only wants to sink and disappear into the mattress for whatever reason.
“Or,” Shin tries again, “if y’got something else that’ll make do—”
“Fuck. No. Not sayin’ I wanna go again,” Drifter grits out, face still buried. He waves a hand back, annoyed. “Forget I said anything.”
Easier said than done. Shin retraces his memory, meandering and hazy, and it really can’t be anything other than fucking. He hadn’t done anything unusual, until they were done and Shin was content enough to put his mouth—
Shin frowns. He lowers himself back over Drifter, and uses the way Drifter tenses up to confirm what he thinks. From there, Shin presses a couple of kisses down Drifter’s back.
He feels rather than sees Drifter scrunch himself up again, likely embarrassed and uneasy, and some small part of Shin echos the same wariness, like this whole interaction can’t be real, or trusted.
“Was it this?” he asks over Drifter’s skin. He leaves another kiss right between the shoulder blades. “C’mon. I ain’t here for a guessing game.”
Drifter’s reply comes through gritted teeth like Shin’s trying to wrench the answer out of him. “Yeah. That.”
There’s a lot of things Shin could say in return — never figured you for the soft type, never thought you’d ask for this, I shouldn’t be allowed to know — but he only makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement and kisses down Drifter’s spine again.
Drifter lifts his head. Shin can tell he’s trying to glance behind him, and Shin is sure the second he looks up Drifter will turn away. So he doesn’t. Just rests his forehead against Drifter’s flushed skin for a moment, not quite nuzzling, but not still enough say that he’s stopped moving all together.
Drifter goes back to mumbling into his arm. “Yeah,” he says, “I like it. When you…” he mutters off, but by now Shin gets the gist of it. Drifter might not see it, might never believe it, but Shin’s burning too, from the inside out.
They aren’t going to catch each other off guard again for a long time. Shin brushes one last kiss at Drifter’s neck before flopping down beside him, and closes his eyes to Drifter’s weight pressing close.