[ having a home, a space of your own to return to, it's always been something that john has appreciated in life. though his home life had been reasonably charmed and by no means difficult, he had absolutely leapt at the chance to live on his own once he had graduated university. he didn't even care that it meant starting off in an absolute shithole in south london with damp and peeling paint and included furniture that would fall apart if you so much as brushed your finger along it. it didn't matter, because he could call it his and always have that to come back to. that's why it galls and pains him so much that the house he has called his home for almost ten years is now so suffused with discomfort and hurt. why he although he tries to keep himself detached from his eudio apartment, he still layers it with aspects of himself. covers it in books and little whimsical decorations that make it homely.
having a home is like having a harbour to return to, and until a few years ago, john had never realised that people could be exactly the same. how a harbour needed more than just your creature comforts sometimes, but also the familiarity of someone who was happy to welcome you back. it's not surprising, really, that he twists and charms his way into the affections and good graces of others, as much as he can. lots of harbours, trying to stake a gentle enough claim in each that they are all welcoming; but none of them home.
it's not the best means of coping, and not exactly fair on others, but it's all that john really knows. ]
Sorry, what was that? [ cassidy's protests essentially fall on deaf ears. the young man will be able to feel the curve of john's smile as he murmurs against cassidy's nape, nosing at the line where his hair begins. his finger trails lazily, still not pushing, not giving cassidy what he wants. he's astonished, frankly, by his own patience, considering how ridiculously hard he is right now and how badly he just wants to fuck him. ] Come on, Cassidy. You know what I want.
[ the hand that's propping john up at cassidy's side shifts upwards, until it can wriggle under the pillow to find and catch the pirate's hand. pulling it out from where it's hidden, john's hand closes down over it, curling his fingers between cassidy's, pressing it down into the bedsheets. in between all the immeasurable, awful teasing, it's a little sign of affection, a wordless comment on the fact that he might be pulling out all the terrible stops right now, but he's always there to put back together whoever he unravels. the kisses he presses to cassidy's cheek are soft. ]
I want you around me, tight and hot. I want your back to arch against me, a tremble in your knees as your breath hitches and you say my name. [ he gives cassidy just a little, pushing in with the very tip of the his finger, though it doesn't last. he withdraws it almost as quickly as he introduces it. ] So I'll ask you again, darling. What do you want?
not even a little and aaaAARRHGHH
having a home is like having a harbour to return to, and until a few years ago, john had never realised that people could be exactly the same. how a harbour needed more than just your creature comforts sometimes, but also the familiarity of someone who was happy to welcome you back. it's not surprising, really, that he twists and charms his way into the affections and good graces of others, as much as he can. lots of harbours, trying to stake a gentle enough claim in each that they are all welcoming; but none of them home.
it's not the best means of coping, and not exactly fair on others, but it's all that john really knows. ]
Sorry, what was that? [ cassidy's protests essentially fall on deaf ears. the young man will be able to feel the curve of john's smile as he murmurs against cassidy's nape, nosing at the line where his hair begins. his finger trails lazily, still not pushing, not giving cassidy what he wants. he's astonished, frankly, by his own patience, considering how ridiculously hard he is right now and how badly he just wants to fuck him. ] Come on, Cassidy. You know what I want.
[ the hand that's propping john up at cassidy's side shifts upwards, until it can wriggle under the pillow to find and catch the pirate's hand. pulling it out from where it's hidden, john's hand closes down over it, curling his fingers between cassidy's, pressing it down into the bedsheets. in between all the immeasurable, awful teasing, it's a little sign of affection, a wordless comment on the fact that he might be pulling out all the terrible stops right now, but he's always there to put back together whoever he unravels. the kisses he presses to cassidy's cheek are soft. ]
I want you around me, tight and hot. I want your back to arch against me, a tremble in your knees as your breath hitches and you say my name. [ he gives cassidy just a little, pushing in with the very tip of the his finger, though it doesn't last. he withdraws it almost as quickly as he introduces it. ] So I'll ask you again, darling. What do you want?