[He looks like something drowned and jizzy, but if it appeals to Lance, it's fine. He can kind of anticipate what's to happen -- the kiss, and yet, it's not until after their lips are sealed together that he realizes: his mouth must taste like dick.
Whatever that tastes like. There's a taste and he's thinking of a hasty retreat...but only thinking about it. Lance doesn't immediately recoil, which is good. He's cupping at Lance's jaw as their liplock endures, his other finds a hip to idle against. If Lance thinks he looks good, imagine what Keith's thinking.
All about how somebody better put their food in the fridge before it goes bad.
The moaning's still fresh, ringing in his ears like a chorus of angels singing. Lance's skin feels soft and hot, even tingly under his fingers -- which might be more of a him thing. This is it. This is what it is to be in like-like with someone.
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Whatever that tastes like. There's a taste and he's thinking of a hasty retreat...but only thinking about it. Lance doesn't immediately recoil, which is good. He's cupping at Lance's jaw as their liplock endures, his other finds a hip to idle against. If Lance thinks he looks good, imagine what Keith's thinking.
All about how somebody better put their food in the fridge before it goes bad.The moaning's still fresh, ringing in his ears like a chorus of angels singing. Lance's skin feels soft and hot, even tingly under his fingers -- which might be more of a him thing. This is it. This is what it is to be in like-like with someone.
How embarrassing.]