[ He pores over By’s face as well as he can by fire- and brazier-light—like it’s a painting, not anything in need of searching or deciphering. Just something lovely. ]
Even then.
[ And it’s not his usual habit to have sex like this, when everything is heavy and sincere. Sex is fun, funny, often turned into some kind of game, rarely had in positions where eye contact is easy, let alone mandatory. Unless he’s pretending to be someone serious, it’s a rare thing for him not to be grinning and joking when he goes for By’s buttons and laces.
But he is now, one-handed and deft as he begins the process of undressing him within the cocoon. Partly because words, for once, don’t feel like enough. And partly because having Byerly underneath him, looking at him like that, belonging to him, hands held down and with nowhere to hide, seems like the perfect way to permanently eradicate every silly nervous fear Bastien’s had about this bed. ]
I want,
[ is as far as he gets, but it’s at least halfway clear from the look on his face as he pauses, waiting for confirmation it’s alright and the work left behind on By’s desk can continue to wait.
CUT TO: Some amount of time and negotiation later, two men not entirely undressed (because it's cold) and burrowed deeper into blankets. Bastien's been quiet, with his face in By's hair and an arm wrapped around him with a firmness that's more protective than possessive, to whatever extent there's a difference. But he lifts his head and twists around to look when the door creaks further open and Whiskey—apparently realizing Byerly would not be coming back into the office anytime soon—trots over to hop up onto the foot of the bed.
It's not bad.
Bastien settles back down and murmurs, ] This doesn't mean we should start fighting all the time.
little nsfw
Even then.
[ And it’s not his usual habit to have sex like this, when everything is heavy and sincere. Sex is fun, funny, often turned into some kind of game, rarely had in positions where eye contact is easy, let alone mandatory. Unless he’s pretending to be someone serious, it’s a rare thing for him not to be grinning and joking when he goes for By’s buttons and laces.
But he is now, one-handed and deft as he begins the process of undressing him within the cocoon. Partly because words, for once, don’t feel like enough. And partly because having Byerly underneath him, looking at him like that, belonging to him, hands held down and with nowhere to hide, seems like the perfect way to permanently eradicate every silly nervous fear Bastien’s had about this bed. ]
I want,
[ is as far as he gets, but it’s at least halfway clear from the look on his face as he pauses, waiting for confirmation it’s alright and the work left behind on By’s desk can continue to wait.
CUT TO: Some amount of time and negotiation later, two men not entirely undressed (because it's cold) and burrowed deeper into blankets. Bastien's been quiet, with his face in By's hair and an arm wrapped around him with a firmness that's more protective than possessive, to whatever extent there's a difference. But he lifts his head and twists around to look when the door creaks further open and Whiskey—apparently realizing Byerly would not be coming back into the office anytime soon—trots over to hop up onto the foot of the bed.
It's not bad.
Bastien settles back down and murmurs, ] This doesn't mean we should start fighting all the time.