"So coy," John says with open amusement. "Here I am, pouring my heart out for your amusement-- Hn!" His entire body goes taut at the bite, placed on such a tender span of skin and tendon. The sensation of Harry's mouth on him gets muddled into the dig of his teeth (not sidhe-sharp, good to know) and his cock deigns to twitch with interest right next to the Knight's face. The bite sends a shock of feeling through his languid body, and his hand slams upward against the edge of the pit.
It takes a few deep breaths, but eventually the explosive reaction fades into quivering aftershocks. Without meaning to, John exhales, and all the tension bleeds out of him until he's laid boneless in the bed. "All right. I'd say something about feeling that in the morning, but I suspect that's the point," he says raggedly.
He pays attention though. He saw the bright sidhe-esque flash in Harry's eyes when he nipped John's thumb and held it with his teeth. He doesn't think Harry wants to kill him, despite what the mantle wants. This is still unexplored territory. John is shiny and new, and Harry is yet covetous. And with the many, many things John wants to do with, for, and to Harry, John figures he'll be safe for a while.
For certain definitions of safe, mind.
John reaches down and runs his fingers through Harry's dark hair, nails scraping pleasantly, thumb pressing in at the base of his skull, at the junction of his jaw. Here, he could push in, force his jaw back open. Maybe even push his head back to John's cock... But that's still cheating. At least until Harry changes the rules. "If you break skin, I will be forced to bite back, Harry," John purrs, oddly sanguine with the idea. "Also, you'll ruin the bedclothes."
He drops his head back against the bed, a show of trust. Trusting Harry not to use this against him, his being laid out and held with his legs spread, every possible weapon outside his nails and teeth stripped away.
Which reminds him. He checks, and yes, Harry is still wearing his pants. He shifts around, trying to catch the hem with his toes, pulling insistently. Surely the Knight Dresden would be less likely to bite if he were fucking John or letting John return this favor.
no subject
It takes a few deep breaths, but eventually the explosive reaction fades into quivering aftershocks. Without meaning to, John exhales, and all the tension bleeds out of him until he's laid boneless in the bed. "All right. I'd say something about feeling that in the morning, but I suspect that's the point," he says raggedly.
He pays attention though. He saw the bright sidhe-esque flash in Harry's eyes when he nipped John's thumb and held it with his teeth. He doesn't think Harry wants to kill him, despite what the mantle wants. This is still unexplored territory. John is shiny and new, and Harry is yet covetous. And with the many, many things John wants to do with, for, and to Harry, John figures he'll be safe for a while.
For certain definitions of safe, mind.
John reaches down and runs his fingers through Harry's dark hair, nails scraping pleasantly, thumb pressing in at the base of his skull, at the junction of his jaw. Here, he could push in, force his jaw back open. Maybe even push his head back to John's cock... But that's still cheating. At least until Harry changes the rules. "If you break skin, I will be forced to bite back, Harry," John purrs, oddly sanguine with the idea. "Also, you'll ruin the bedclothes."
He drops his head back against the bed, a show of trust. Trusting Harry not to use this against him, his being laid out and held with his legs spread, every possible weapon outside his nails and teeth stripped away.
Which reminds him. He checks, and yes, Harry is still wearing his pants. He shifts around, trying to catch the hem with his toes, pulling insistently. Surely the Knight Dresden would be less likely to bite if he were fucking John or letting John return this favor.