"Now you're makin' the most of it, love," Sweeney answers with a grin, shifting on the bed just enough to put his cigarette in an ash tray, leaving it still smouldering for the moment. Then he has both hands on Vasquez's slim waist, pulling him off his lap, putting him back down on the bed in a movement that probably shouldn't be as smooth as it is. He's only had a little whiskey, though, and he's more or less still got his wits about him.
One hand presses against Vasquez's chest, feeling the swell of his breasts even though the t-shirt he's wearing -- Sweeney's shirt, he realizes -- and he holds him down against the bed as he gets himself settled, shifting until he's on his knees, still wearing that maddening grin.
Without another word, he pushes up the hem of that shirt, big enough and long enough to nearly be worn as a dress on Vasquez as he is now, and he ducks his head at the same time. He pushes Vasquez's thighs apart, partly with his hands, partly with his head, then presses his mouth to the inside of one knee, his skin smooth and warm under his lips.
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winterfish
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Date: 2017-11-28 03:02 am (UTC)One hand presses against Vasquez's chest, feeling the swell of his breasts even though the t-shirt he's wearing -- Sweeney's shirt, he realizes -- and he holds him down against the bed as he gets himself settled, shifting until he's on his knees, still wearing that maddening grin.
Without another word, he pushes up the hem of that shirt, big enough and long enough to nearly be worn as a dress on Vasquez as he is now, and he ducks his head at the same time. He pushes Vasquez's thighs apart, partly with his hands, partly with his head, then presses his mouth to the inside of one knee, his skin smooth and warm under his lips.