[His sharp inhale as he surfaces for air is more than indicative of how starved he’s been for this sort of thing, trying to remember how it goes and what he’s supposed to do. It’s probably best not to think too hard about it; just do what feels right, and sort everything else out later. To Reinhardt’s credit, he goes with the flow, and soon Jack is parting his lips for him, arms settling around his shoulders as he takes all the air out between them.
Still, he can’t quite help the nervous laugh, like he knows he’s too old for this and is probably more than a little out of practice. Jack suddenly can’t believe he ever repressed this, when it feels (at least momentarily) like exactly the thing he needs.
After a moment, one broad hand slides down Reinhardt’s chest, splaying there, and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes him, unbecoming as it is.]
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Still, he can’t quite help the nervous laugh, like he knows he’s too old for this and is probably more than a little out of practice. Jack suddenly can’t believe he ever repressed this, when it feels (at least momentarily) like exactly the thing he needs.
After a moment, one broad hand slides down Reinhardt’s chest, splaying there, and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes him, unbecoming as it is.]