K is oblivious to the revelation happening below him, although he's aware of the effect it has on the tension in Jesus's body; he's too intent on feeling his way along the bones and muscles of Jesus's chest like there's a poem stamped there in Braille, like he's planning a masterpiece he'll have to sculpt blind.
"I've never missed a target," he teases, although it's the closest he'll get - besides their play during Tumenalia - to referencing his work lightly. Even now, he only does it because he remembers how delighted Jesus was then.
The effect now is no less pronounced; the way he's moving against K's hips takes on a subtle bit of urgency. He doesn't ask for more than that, though. Tumenalia was its own thing, and he doesn't want K to think he takes K's job or the life he lived at home lightly.
He knows he's meant to take the reins here a bit, but for right now he just breathes heavy, just enjoys the heat of K's mouth on his skin, the attention K gives him that he could never have imagined receiving before he knew this man.
That friction between them created by body moving against body is delicious, and K lets that heat build without pushing him any more rushed where his attention is. He's moved down to Jesus's shoulder with his mouth by then, lips and tongue mapping skin in a way his touch couldn't, lingering in the hollow above his collarbone and the crease where sweat catches at the junction of shoulder and neck.
The reaction makes him smile, his grip massaging into the muscles just above Jesus's hip, encouraging him even as he lays himself out long beside him.
It works best if K doesn't think about things too much, which is a hard sell - he's always thinking, always wondering, and he will again when he's alone or the only one awake. But that's not now, and he's all too happy to focus on what is now.
He shifts to help slide his pants down off his hips, backs of his knuckles brushing along Jesus's jaw, and in a voice so low it's more vibration in his chest than anything he says, reverently, "You're beautiful," between kisses along his skin.
"I really, really like you..." He's breathing heavier against K's hair, and he only breaks away to get them both fully, finally naked. He takes a moment to look at K, to enjoy this moment where he's stretched out for Jesus.
"Get comfortable," he murmurs, and kisses his hip and reaches for the lube.
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"I've never missed a target," he teases, although it's the closest he'll get - besides their play during Tumenalia - to referencing his work lightly. Even now, he only does it because he remembers how delighted Jesus was then.
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He knows he's meant to take the reins here a bit, but for right now he just breathes heavy, just enjoys the heat of K's mouth on his skin, the attention K gives him that he could never have imagined receiving before he knew this man.
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The reaction makes him smile, his grip massaging into the muscles just above Jesus's hip, encouraging him even as he lays himself out long beside him.
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He kisses K deeply as he strokes his side, and starts to unfasten K's pants, wanting nothing left between them.
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He shifts to help slide his pants down off his hips, backs of his knuckles brushing along Jesus's jaw, and in a voice so low it's more vibration in his chest than anything he says, reverently, "You're beautiful," between kisses along his skin.
no subject
"Get comfortable," he murmurs, and kisses his hip and reaches for the lube.