tailorable | INBOX

[ amusing thomas makes his eyes brighten. it's like winning approval, isn't it? a thrill every time.

eggsy hums in affirmation and parts his mouth slightly (invitingly, he'd hope). in his life, he's found that he's often more confident in physical things than verbalising his thoughts. perhaps that's the lack of heart-to-hearts in his life, with little communication going on at home. it's not something he dwells on, at any rate. particularly not in this moment, when he feels assured about the trajectory of his actions. ]

[ eggsy shouldn't have to feel like he needs to win approval, but thomas sees the way eggsy's eyes brighten and something softens in his own expression, inside his chest.

but despite the -- decidedly inviting -- hum and the urge to kiss eggsy again, thomas finds that he's not quite done talking yet. ]

Do you have a particular direction you see this going?

[ "this" -- right now, or in general. no is a perfectly acceptable answer; thomas doesn't have one beyond "i'd quite like to kiss you again" and that's only an answer for right now. ]

[ he blinks once. twice. shifts his weight from one leg to the other. ]

Not really. I mean, I don’t know. [ it feels like the wrong answer, but it’s the truth. he isn’t planning ahead, not regarding this — he feels as though doing so might qualify as breaking kingsman rules, at least if he looks beyond today and now. ] Guess I was hoping there’d be more kissing when I stood up and all.

[ teasing but again: it’s true. he would’ve said i’d like to fuck you again but that seems presumptuous when they’ve only reconnected moments ago. ]

[ thomas thinks it over for only a moment, one hand still on eggsy's hip and the other cupping his face, not withdrawing at all. ]

All right.

[ he says after that moment, and leans in again. he doesn't know whether that's a good answer, whether eggsy's is -- maybe there are no wrong answers, or no right ones. for now, this feels good. he wants to keep kissing eggsy. maybe more, too. he'd enjoyed their encounter a great deal, wyver air or no.

maybe that's enough.

(it used to be, for the young man he'd once been, the kind of man who'd look proper but who'd absolutely follow foreign dignitaries into dark rooms and sink on his knees for them. only when he'd been certain of their interest.

but he's certain of eggsy's, now, isn't he?)

a beat, and their lips connect again. ]

[ it feels like a long moment, when they’re so close but paused and eggsy’s attuned to nightingale, waiting for a reaction to his answer — an indication of nightingale’s own wishes. it reminds him of their first encounter, the moment when he’d asked to go home with thomas. ‘Course this might be better, seeing as it ends faster and with another kiss. this time, he presses more firmly, lifting one hand back to thomas’ face and lazily throwing his arm around thomas. there’s a level comfort to doing this with him that hasn’t been resent for all his liaisons in el nysa. he leans into it, deepening the kiss with flicks of tongue.

belatedly, he realises he ought to have volleyed the earlier question back. at this point, his retreat is more reluctant, keeping his hold on thomas. ]

Could revisit the lap idea, too. [ definitely a point of interest but not the point. ] Or whatever’s going on in your head.

[ ‘cause it seems as though thomas had thoughts of his own regarding where he sees this going, even if eggsy can’t ask for them outright. in general, eggsy thinks thomas considers more than he vocalises. ]

[ eggsy's not wrong in his assessment: thomas does consider a great deal more than he vocalises, watching and thinking and processing things even when he might not seem to be doing much at all. it's how he's learned his way around a new century, really.

but right now, he's content to keep kissing eggsy and perhaps, just for a while, to stop thinking. ]

Mh. [ it's just a noise, barely a hum. whatever's going on in your head isn't quite a question, and honestly, thomas isn't so certain of all the nuances of his own mind regarding this particular matter. he wants to keep kissing eggsy and see where this takes them, right now. in the long run, he's not sure. maybe "just see where it goes" is enough, maybe it isn't. maybe tomorrow he'll realise that in some ways, he's doing eggsy a disservice -- realise, or think that he is even though he mightn't be.

for now, he sinks back into the armchair. looking up at eggsy, lips curling into a grin that's almost mischievous. ]

I won't lie. Your idea is very appealing.

[ he tugs, gently, at eggsy's hip. an invitation. ]

[ should eggsy have asked more plainly? he could have pressed for answers, but the reply thomas gives is too good to deny, even for a second. perhaps that puts them on the same page again — enjoying without thinking. thomas’ grin alone, not unlike the roguish ones eggsy usually wears, is enough to pull him in, though the warm weight on his hip helps. he follows immediately (and if they weren’t already close, he’d trip over himself in his haste to get there).

if he’d thought thomas’ teasing was a win, this is next level. it earns one of eggsy’s impossibly bright smiles, easily reaching his eyes. he settles on thomas, knees bracketing his waist and cups thomas’ jaw to lean in for a quick kiss. eggsy’s well fit enough to find this comfortable. ]

Thomas. [ the glint in his eyes is undeniably mischievous. oh, he loves this — being indulged and indulging others. ] You oughta know that’s a scandalous confession.

[ even when asked plainly, thomas is not always willing or able to provide a clear answer. this works, for now, for them -- eggsy's weight and warmth sinking down onto thomas' lap in the armchair, straddling him, the slow and heated slide of their lips together. ]

In these circles?

[ thomas asks when the kiss breaks, if only momentarily, meaning himself and eggsy only. ]

Hardly.

[ eggsy laughs, delighted by the jibe. in these circles — yeah, just him and thomas, in the privacy of thomas' home. it's nice. and they've already slept together, so eggsy's feeling undeniably emboldened by it all. he likes to be on top, unbothered by the way his jumper rucks up and the thrill of leaning over him. he rolls his hips, an experimental grind down. ]

Now you've got it sussed.

[ that's playful encouragement. ]

[ there is something intoxicating not only about the proximity of eggsy's body to his and the laughter between them, voiced only by eggsy but felt by thomas as well, but also about the fact that -- this is not a mere chance encounter in a nightclub or bar, not an anonymous thing. oh, thomas has, once upon a time, done those as well, but he finds that now, he prefers knowing people. having some semblance of a connection.

(he's been alone for long enough to know that while a man can be an island, it's a very lonely way to be.)

thomas lets out only a hm in response, hands fitting to eggsy's waist and sliding up from there, underneath the sweater, feeling solid muscle, the shifts of it, the warmth of eggsy's skin. he thinks, idly, that he'd like to take it slow this time after the hurry and heat of the last time, and so he leans up to kiss eggsy again, unhurried but deep. ]

[ in truth, eggsy prefers this, too. knowing where he stands with someone, feeling the warmth of familiarity alongside the heat of arousal, enjoying a certain security with his partner. it’s why he’d been alone on the night he’d found thomas, despite a few forward patrons catching his eye (and his arm, at one point).

when thomas’ hands slide over his chest, he considers lifting his jumper off (‘cause he’s absolutely that guy who needs little encouragement to take his top off, well, anywhere) but they’re lacking the rush of last time. maybe he likes that, too. he very rarely had the time for privacy or slow pacing before the world ended. by the time thomas kisses him, there’s a light dust of pink colouring his cheeks. he kisses back firmly, eyes fluttering closed as he and thomas slot together. for a moment, he allows himself to focus on it alone, far as it is from his previous, insistent exploration of thomas’ mouth.

then, eggsy fiddles with the topmost buttons of thomas’ shirt, popping enough so his fingers can glide over thomas’ collarbone (and remind him of the first night). ]

[ eggsy doesn't take off his jumper and while thomas wouldn't have minded the immediate access and the sight of eggsy shirtless, he's quite content with the unhurried pace they're setting. there's something to be said for simply trading kisses and touches without a need for immediate gratification.

perhaps that's his age talking, he's not quite sure -- but he enjoys this. enjoys, too, seeing the dusting of pink in eggsy's cheeks.

when eggsy's fingers find his collarbone, thomas smiles. it seems they're both thinking of the first night. it's easy, then, to just kiss eggsy again and then again, deep and firm but comparatively chaste, intense in duration and intent more than in urgency. ]

[ it's surprisingly nice for eggsy, who so rarely slows down, to decelerate. although he wouldn't describe himself as impatient, he's certain others (rightly) would. this is different. he's shagged plenty of people since the world ended, but he hasn't lingered like this. comfortably flush against thomas, he can't think of anything compelling enough to pull him elsewhere, even if the friction sparking every time he shifts on thomas' lap suggests he wouldn't mind quickening the pace, either.

he can feel thomas smile on his mouth, so eggsy pushes a little more, nipping at his lower lip and then immediately leaning forward to kiss him again. ]

[ thomas doesn't moan, not quite, at the nip of teeth on his lower lip, but he lets out a soft noise that's half pleasure and half encouragement, shifting underneath eggsy to bring them both closer, their bodies slotted together both comfortably and firmly.

he suspects that eggsy can feel him growing hard, just as he can feel that eggsy's a little ahead of him in that regard -- and still thomas doesn't let the kiss speed up. ]

[ now it's like the other night, with eggsy hungrily swallowing the attractive noise thomas makes. he hums, pleased by the reaction and the subsequent pull nearer. yeah, he feels thomas growing hard — yet he doesn't fidget, not like eggsy does, rocking his hips. god, maybe he is impatient. their speed settles once more, evening out as thomas doesn't give chase to eggsy's little trick. he nearly says something, but that would mean less kissing.

instead, he threads his fingers through thomas' own and tugs their linked hands around to settle on his arse. ]

[ perhaps thomas is more patient, or perhaps it's simply age that makes a difference in urgency -- but eggsy leads thomas' hand to his arse and there's another noise that thomas cannot swallow, that he doesn't try to swallow, all appreciation this time, his fingers curling over the muscle there.

curling there, and pulling eggsy very firmly closer, hips tipping up just so to meet eggsy's. it seems even an old dog can turn impatient. ]

[ the combination of thomas letting go enough not to choke down a satisfied noise and following his lead (going beyond it, really, given the feel of his strong hand and the stutter of his hips to meet eggsy’s own in a slow grind) — it makes eggsy moan outright. somehow, thomas still manages to surprise him with bold moves like this. hell, it might be embarrassing if thomas hadn’t heard him far louder and more wanton before now. he indulges in a more insistent kiss this time, bringing his hand back to thomas’ collar to trail it down his skin until he needs to pop more buttons for greater access. ]

Thought I might be the only one gagging for it.

[ an intentional word choice, sounding utterly pleased with himself (if a shade breathy). he wonders if thomas realised how much of a handful (lapful?) he has in his life. ]

[ thomas is not a silent bed partner -- or armchair partner, as the case may be -- but while he makes plenty of noises, they're usually quite reserved. quiet, on the whole. eggsy's moan is anything but and the sound goes straight to thomas' cock. it twitches against eggsy's thigh as it fills out, the material of thomas' suit -- though thicker than the linen he'd worn the last time -- doing little to hide the movement or the effect eggsy's proximity and their kissing is having on him.

gagging. thomas has to close his eyes for a moment and swallow. ]

Hardly.

[ oh, he realises it. quite likes it, in fact. ]

[ eggsy can feel (and appreciate) the physical signs of thomas' interest in him, particularly at present, when they're grinding together for relief through his terribly fine suit and eggsy's plain clothes. still, he likes hearing thomas. a single hardly has him chuffed (and stokes the heat in his gut). he kisses along thomas' jaw, then open-mouthed at his throat, hands still idly roaming his chest, brushing over thick fabric until they playfully hook on the waistband of his trousers. ]

Good. [ not quite smug but close, murmured against his exposed skin. ] I wanna take care of you this time, Thomas. [ ah, perhaps their earlier conversation (the very reason eggsy came over) is still on his mind. at least in the way that it makes him want to prove his interest in thomas as more than an accidental, quick fuck. his cock is already hard, obvious in his trackies, but — ] Can go slow.

[ yeah, he can take it slow — well, slower. where he'd been desperate and haphazard in the bar or on the verge of coming in thomas' hallway last time, he'd like to act more purposefully, whether that's by slowly wanking thomas off right here, or rutting against him like this indefinitely, or swallowing him down and opening him up. maybe that's partly his age (sending pornographic fantasies splintering off in every direction). ]

[ there's nothing eggsy needs to prove, really -- but while part of thomas wants to protest that he's quite all right, he doesn't need looking after or taking care of, the majority of him simply wants to let eggsy do whatever he'd like, to lean into that warmth and keep kissing and enjoy the way they fit together, their bodies, their lips. if that involves eggsy taking care of him -- rutting like this or swallowing him down and opening him up, well.

thomas will not be complaining. ]

I'd like that. [ he says in the end, voice not as breathless as he feels but close enough, eyes closed even in the breaks between kissing, hands still firm on eggsy's arse. going slow, he means -- but the truth is that he thinks he'd like almost anything, right now.

his head's tipped back, throat exposed. open to eggsy. ]

[ for a moment, the only reply thomas gets is a pleased hum against his skin. then, eggsy drags his teeth over thomas’ throat, biting and sucking hard enough that it might leave a mark. shit, he probably should be more careful about that, given thomas enjoys a level of respectability.

as he kisses over the reddened patch of skin, he keeps his fingers at thomas’s waist, dipping into his trousers to trace the top of his underwear but nothing more. ]

I like how you look. [ he’s far from unaffected, all ragged tones. ] Like this, especially. [ eyes closed, as if the sight of eggsy in addition to everything else might overwhelm him. and a bit breathless, head tipped back invitingly, still so dressed up delightfully mussed beneath eggsy. (god, he doesn’t want to dwell on the somewhat obvious origins of his thing about suits beyond his natural inclination for disrupting all things posh). he doesn’t think about the fact that his hard-on is dampening his trackers, and he hasn’t brought a change of clothes. problems for later. ] And I like it when you tell me how I’m doing — when you tell me what you like.

[ well, of course he has a thing about talking, with his motor mouth. it’s an oblique reference to his specific interest in praise, which is a more embarrassing request to make (even if it might be obvious, when one reviews his interactions with anyone, including thomas). ]

[ a pleased hum is really all the response thomas needs -- but then eggsy drags his teeth over thomas' throat and the sound that escapes thomas at the sensation is at best described as utterly indecent. he does enjoy a level of respectability, but that does not mean he enjoys some debauching as well, and eggsy's teeth against his throat send blood rushing down to his cock, fingers tightening over eggsy's arse.

it takes thomas a moment before he can speak. ]

Yeah?

[ he's not quiet, but he's not the most verbal. still, there's something to be said for obliging his partners. so, after a moment, softly: ] I like what you do.

[ with his head still nestled in the crook of thomas' neck, the grip tightening over his arse makes him stutter down, an instinctive push for friction. that, alongside the words, the brief hesitation, the softness — it all makes eggsy's breath hitch. ]

Yes, Thomas.

[ it's enough, what thomas gives him. he shifts his fingers to unfasten thomas' trousers, intending to slide off his partner's lap and onto his knees shortly. ]

[ it's intoxicating -- the way eggsy reacts, the stutter of his hips against thomas', the yes. thomas wants to hear that word again, with that inflection.

and then there are fingers at his trousers and it's thomas' breath that hitches, hands falling away from eggsy's arse to the sides of the armchair instead to give eggsy room to move. ]

[ eggsy opens his trousers easily enough. the loss of thomas’ hands on him nearly makes him whine, but he’s glad for the implicit encouragement. still, he leans forward to kiss thomas, soft and affectionate, in lieu of doing anything else. finally, he tugs at thomas’s trousers and underwear, bringing them down as much as he can before scooting back and ungracefully stepping off thomas’ lap to sink to his knees in front of the chair — in front of thomas.

jesus, his knees might actually be sore tomorrow. does this count as, like, targeted exercise? ]

Come closer. [ to the edge, so his clothes can come off enough for eggsy to put his mouth to work. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

this is a nasty mobile tag yo

you spoil me :*

;)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject