[ Better. Much better. Locus settles on top of him and the restlessness in Felix disappears. He starts to make a sound, possibly a sigh not wholly unlike contented relief, but then Locus' hips move, dragging friction along the length of his cock, and whatever noise that might have been twists in a moan.
Automatically, he rocks back against him, wanting more, body practically starved for it. He probably should have done something about that, but when he'd arrived he wasn't really feeling up to getting laid, hadn't wanted to pay for it when he was, stopped thinking about it when he and Locus started this thing, and hasn't been in the mood to jerk off lately. And now that dry spell is coming back to haunt him.
The sharp pinch of Locus' teeth turns scratching into clawing, as the violence within Felix responds to the show of it here. His fingers sweep down Locus' back and along his sides, over muscle and ribs, then back up against his abdomen. The shirt's a fucking problem. Felix wants it gone but that's too much time away from Locus' mouth and skin. His thumbs pass over the edges of his chest, then cross his back and slide into his hair. He tugs on a handful of hair, yanking himself away from Locus' mouth just long enough to inhale a gulp of air, but on the way back to his lips, Felix takes a detour.
He isn't thinking of marking him. Not consciously. But maybe his subconscious took a hint from the grip Locus has on his hip, because Felix finds the side of his throat, gives it a wet, open-mouthed kiss, then bites him, sinking his teeth in and sucking hard enough to bruise. ]
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Automatically, he rocks back against him, wanting more, body practically starved for it. He probably should have done something about that, but when he'd arrived he wasn't really feeling up to getting laid, hadn't wanted to pay for it when he was, stopped thinking about it when he and Locus started this thing, and hasn't been in the mood to jerk off lately. And now that dry spell is coming back to haunt him.
The sharp pinch of Locus' teeth turns scratching into clawing, as the violence within Felix responds to the show of it here. His fingers sweep down Locus' back and along his sides, over muscle and ribs, then back up against his abdomen. The shirt's a fucking problem. Felix wants it gone but that's too much time away from Locus' mouth and skin. His thumbs pass over the edges of his chest, then cross his back and slide into his hair. He tugs on a handful of hair, yanking himself away from Locus' mouth just long enough to inhale a gulp of air, but on the way back to his lips, Felix takes a detour.
He isn't thinking of marking him. Not consciously. But maybe his subconscious took a hint from the grip Locus has on his hip, because Felix finds the side of his throat, gives it a wet, open-mouthed kiss, then bites him, sinking his teeth in and sucking hard enough to bruise. ]