[Almoooooooost—and god damn it. The moment hitches at a lingering groan, quiet and hidden at the back of his throat. As much as he should reach and snap his wrists, the tips of his fingers glide over the flesh, feeling every bone and every curve that grips his hold. Silent warnings about this hold Crane has chosen, ghostly of a warning that may threaten while betraying for more. Less gentle. Bruising. Fiercer. He's eying him now, with a cold, calculating look. And he breathes, dripping in irritability.
Does he have to do everything himself?
The few buttons and film hold of Jonathan Crane's clothing keep temporary hold of his own attention. Button by button, stripping away the layer between them to reveal slick skin. He works his way down, grazing every inch, greedy and afraid for a lack of opportunities. But the tie, no, he leaves that there. Actually giving it a sharp tug while pressing his face into his collarbone, inhaling. See what you are making me do, asshole?]
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Date: 2012-04-29 03:12 am (UTC)Does he have to do everything himself?
The few buttons and film hold of Jonathan Crane's clothing keep temporary hold of his own attention. Button by button, stripping away the layer between them to reveal slick skin. He works his way down, grazing every inch, greedy and afraid for a lack of opportunities. But the tie, no, he leaves that there. Actually giving it a sharp tug while pressing his face into his collarbone, inhaling. See what you are making me do, asshole?]