amicably_absent | (no subject)

Glitch thinks about it, putting the books on his desk, closing them with ribbons in them to mark where they were and picking up his own glass.

"We're usually at mine. Does that bother you?"

"Nope. Should it?" He holds the door open, gesturing for Glitch to come along when he's done.

"No. But it might've anyway." He half skips, stumbling and righting himself and heading out the door. "My room then?"

"Your room."

He starts walking, not feeling like steering Glitch the right way if he happens to go in the wrong direction. Not right now.

He holds out his hand with a smile.

Glitch follows along, a bounce in his step and his fingers lacing with Wyatt's. He's letting Wyatt lead him about, he isn't in the mood for getting lost.

They have more important things to focus on.

Fortunately, Glitch's room isn't far away, and since neither of them are dawdling, they get there in no time. Which means, there's just one thing left for Wyatt to do.

He tops up both their glasses, Glitch's first. "I don't really feel like dinner yet. Maybe later?"

"Maybe later," Glitch agrees, taking another sip before setting it down on the bedside table and shedding his coat, dropping it on a chair.

Wyatt takes his cue, taking off his hat and sliding out of his jacket. He made sure to make a detour before rushing here after work, wanting to get out of the uniform not only for appearances' sake, but for comfort as well.

His vest is next, and oh, so silently, his mind is coming up with very neat little conclusions of how they can improve their sex life with just this added measure of knowledge.

Glitch, despite earlier carry on, bouncing and teasing, is in no big rush. He toes off his shoes and drops his unbuttoned vest to the floor before flopping down on the bed on his stomach, picking up his wine again and sipping.

No rush. He said something along those lines last night, and he's sticking to it. He loses his shoes at the door, then pads on over to sit down on the bed beside his lover.

"...what does it feel like? Or, um, did it feel like, last night?"

"Mm?" He rolls onto his back for the express purpose of laying his head on Wyatt's thigh and looking up at him. "Having sex like that? It felt... familiar, like everything else has, but not at the same time. It was... kind of odd. Very, filled and pulled open but good. Really good."

"Yeah..." He nods, echoing the sentiment, "Familiar but not. Really good."

He nods again. "Really good. It felt really, really good. The sort of good where I want to do it again."

"Me too," he drains half his glass of wine, placing his hand squarely on Glitch's chest, fingers flexing idly over fabric and the hint of muscle beneath. "But tonight is all about you."

"Why is it all about me," he asks innocently. "It can be about both of us, together." He arches up slightly into the touch.

"I don't know." He smiles, suddenly struck by something a lot like shyness and nerves. "Because it felt like a good idea. Because you make me feel like an adolescent every time we touch, and I never want to forget that feeling.

"Because I want to make you feel so good that by the time I push inside you, we won't need to cut things short because of how good you make me feel."

"Oooh." Glitch sits up enough to down his wine and peel off his shirt - no buttons undone, just off.

"I like that idea. And I bet it'll be a lot of fun if we don't get it right first time."

"I thought you'd like that. Practice makes perfect, like they say." He leans across the bed to set his own glass down. Better there than on the floor.

The bottle of unscented oil is still there, from the night before. It's perfect.

Glitch leans back, undoing his pants and not taking them off, leaving hip bones bared and stomach exposed. "Lots of practice?"

There's something entirely too tempting about the sight of those bones covered by soft skin, and Wyatt isn't about to try resisting. He scoots a tad further away and slides down to press his lips to them one after the other, and starts slowly working his way upwards.

"Lots of it."

With a sighed out moan, Glitch stretches at the kisses, smiling as warm lips work over his skin. "Lots and lots."

He smiles, kissing his way up the center of Glitch's chest, hands following on either side with firm caresses over ribs that - Wyatt would like to think - grow fainter for each passing day. He doesn't much care for order or structure when they're in bed together, but one thing he does care for is attention to detail. Or, simply, paying attention to the small things.

Like dipping his tongue into Glitch's navel. Like pressing his lips to the tip of his sternum. Like using his flat palms to rub over Glitch's nipples, while he moves ever higher with his mouth.

Wyatt's sheer attentiveness is addictive. It almost feels like he's abusing his sensory dependence, to soak in the attention, the touches and the looks and the tasting, oh he loves the tasting so much.

He arches and rolls and stretches under Wyatt, half giggling and half moaning as hands skim his chest.

"Ticklish?" Not that he'll take advantage of it right now if that's the case, but it might be fun to know. Just one of those details that makes up the big picture.

And if he gets sidetracked by the long, long neck on his way up, no one needs to point it out. Even if this is where the teeth come into play. Little nips soothed away by kisses and flicks of his tongue, mapping every last square inch of skin all the way up to his earlobes, one after the other.

The little whine suggests that yes, Glitch is ticklish. But that is really not for now.

He loves every nip and every bite and every kiss that comes after it. It all has him gasping and whimpering slightly and wriggling with want.