The kiss leaves him flushed, almost gasping for breath. Declan's hands in his shirt, and he's only too willing to move to make it easy when he seems to decide that Gansey putting his clothes back on was a terrible decision.
There's that agreement to a question that Gansey hadn't really asked, but that hung in the air between them. Declan strips down to his skin, and he can't help the way it catches his breath, the way that his hazel eyes look him over. He's gorgeous and he's tempted to touch- curl fingers around his cock, maybe see if he unravels the way that Gansey did if he slides flesh against his tongue. He's affected with desire, flushed with how it curls on his skin, and he feels almost embarrassingly easy for it.
There's that demand, tell me what you want, and it drags his gaze back to Declan's face, a curl of his mouth in a warm smile. The easy answers are the ones that he's not allowed to say, but he covers it with touch, the way that his fingers slide against his ribs and press against his hips. There's just enough pressure to make his pale skin red against Gansey's touch, to make him feel real in his hands. I want you to fuck me like it means something. I want to touch you and I want you to let me give you the things that you wont let yourself ask for. I want to make you feel good and learn what you like.
He wants too much, in all the ways he's not supposed to. Declan was all casual sexuality- things he knew from Adam and Ronan, his stops by Monmouth, the occasional gossip that used to float around the rowing team or other casual acquaintances. Declan is mostly too boring and without the sort of scandals that hold the fleeting attention of teenage boys, but sometimes there had been admiration for his track record.
And Gansey had been raised with better manners than to ask for what someone doesn't want to give. So he means to keep it casual, a secret to be folded away in the pocket where he keeps his best smile. The fact that he wants more is just a footnote that doesn't bear repeating; it's not like Declan is someone he's allowed to want for real.
He isn't sure that Declan wants to be wanted for real. But that doesn't make it easier not to.
Gansey was raised to a family where wanting was usually kept to surface level things. Respectable desires; expensive glass plates, cars, helicopters and exotic vacations- the sort of things that didn't inspire reckless behavior in the pursuit of them. But Richard Gansey III had died once, and it left him both with an earnest belief in magic, and a frustration with all the things that don't make him feel alive. It makes him greedy, sometimes. Makes him want in ways that aren't respectable.
He feels alive now. "I want the way you look when you let yourself want something. Not just-- like it's for my benefit." He lets his hands slide against his skin, pressing a little too hard, not enough to leave marks, but like he might change his mind. "Is that selfish?"
no subject
There's that agreement to a question that Gansey hadn't really asked, but that hung in the air between them. Declan strips down to his skin, and he can't help the way it catches his breath, the way that his hazel eyes look him over. He's gorgeous and he's tempted to touch- curl fingers around his cock, maybe see if he unravels the way that Gansey did if he slides flesh against his tongue. He's affected with desire, flushed with how it curls on his skin, and he feels almost embarrassingly easy for it.
There's that demand, tell me what you want, and it drags his gaze back to Declan's face, a curl of his mouth in a warm smile. The easy answers are the ones that he's not allowed to say, but he covers it with touch, the way that his fingers slide against his ribs and press against his hips. There's just enough pressure to make his pale skin red against Gansey's touch, to make him feel real in his hands. I want you to fuck me like it means something. I want to touch you and I want you to let me give you the things that you wont let yourself ask for. I want to make you feel good and learn what you like.
He wants too much, in all the ways he's not supposed to. Declan was all casual sexuality- things he knew from Adam and Ronan, his stops by Monmouth, the occasional gossip that used to float around the rowing team or other casual acquaintances. Declan is mostly too boring and without the sort of scandals that hold the fleeting attention of teenage boys, but sometimes there had been admiration for his track record.
And Gansey had been raised with better manners than to ask for what someone doesn't want to give. So he means to keep it casual, a secret to be folded away in the pocket where he keeps his best smile. The fact that he wants more is just a footnote that doesn't bear repeating; it's not like Declan is someone he's allowed to want for real.
He isn't sure that Declan wants to be wanted for real. But that doesn't make it easier not to.
Gansey was raised to a family where wanting was usually kept to surface level things. Respectable desires; expensive glass plates, cars, helicopters and exotic vacations- the sort of things that didn't inspire reckless behavior in the pursuit of them. But Richard Gansey III had died once, and it left him both with an earnest belief in magic, and a frustration with all the things that don't make him feel alive. It makes him greedy, sometimes. Makes him want in ways that aren't respectable.
He feels alive now. "I want the way you look when you let yourself want something. Not just-- like it's for my benefit." He lets his hands slide against his skin, pressing a little too hard, not enough to leave marks, but like he might change his mind. "Is that selfish?"
He's never been a good liar anyway.