(no subject)

[sunburned]

continued from here.

"I'm thinking we should probably get out of here," says Priestly when John's reaction is definitely not one that suggests Priestly is going too far. He slides his hand further under his shirt, so it rests just above his hip, and moves in close enough that their jaws are brushing up against one another. The feel of faint stubble against faint stubble is not one he's felt since Yorick, and he's missed it more than he realized. "Take our few successes and leave this for another day. Unless you just want to duck into the caves for a little while."

It would be so easy to turn his head, to press his lips against skin, but he doesn't. He drags in a shivering breath and nods. His shirt's open, but he feels completely naked in that moment.

"What's in the caves?" he asks.

Comments

[renaissanceman]

"Nothing," says Priestly. "No one." It's not entirely true--the caves remain a favourite for brewing, distilling and storing liquor, and there are people in and out of them sometimes, but it's a cave system. There are tons of places for privacy, unlike a well-trafficked basement.

[sunburned]

Lifting his hand, he brushing his fingertips against the side of Priestly's neck, feeling his pulse, the jut of his collarbone. He swallows, nodding.

"Show me."

[renaissanceman]

Priestly takes a fistful of his shirt and starts walking backwards, praying he doesn't stumble because he's not looking anywhere but at John's shoulder, at John's neck, at John's face anymore.

"This way," he says, kicking a pair of pants out of the way and slowly making his way to the door leading off into the caves.

Later maybe they can go on forward instead of back inside, cooling off in the waterfall at the other end.

[sunburned]

He lets himself be lead. Sometimes, it really does feel like it's been years and years of one thing after another and it feels good, for a moment, to let someone else have control.

"This is more familiar," he admits, fingers still against Priestly's skin. "It feels like I've spent my whole life finding corners."

[renaissanceman]

It's not something Priestly ever had to worry about, but he can imagine what it was like. Maybe, after being here for long enough, John won't feel like he has to find corners anymore. But for right now it's their best alternative.

The door requires more attention than he wants to give it, forcing him to turn around briefly, but then they're through and they're alone and they're very unlikely to be interrupted. And the first thing he does is gets John's back against the wall and he's got his mouth against his jaw like he's been dying to do ever since he first put a hand on him.

[sunburned]

His back hits the wall and he breathes out, fingers tightening on Priestly's shoulder. He doesn't know what to do with his other arm, the hand that he can feel that isn't there, so he keeps it at his side.

Usually, it's him pressing someone back into shadows. The change in position is undeniably pleasant.

[renaissanceman]

A few moments later he's pulling John's shirt open on both sides, starting to push it back over his shoulders but not wanting to let him away from the wall long enough to do it. He ends up fisting the fabric and grinding it against the wall as he presses his body up against John's, shoulder to knee.

[sunburned]

This much is, at least, familiar. He's known what he is for a long, long time; he's welcomed the press of bodies, close, the familiar feel of muscle. He presses forward with his hips, with his hand, leaning hungrily into the kiss. It's barely started and he already knows completely, without hesitation, that he will take this anyway he can.

[renaissanceman]

Priestly forgets, sometimes, that John is missing the hand, but he tries not to make a thing of it when he remembers, other than trying to get them into a position where John won't find himself needing it. Not that that's easy when all he's thinking about right now is grinding up against him and wishing he could use twice as many hands as he has, to touch everything he wants to touch.

It's cool in the caves but he already feels sweat on the back of his neck, and John's skin feels so hot where they're pressed together. He lets go of John's shirt only long enough to pull his own t-shirt off, losing it somewhere at their feet.

[sunburned]

Priestly strips off his shirt and John kisses him hungrily before he pulls back enough to touch, to take in the sight of Priestly stripped to the waist. He trails his fingers down, from the side of his neck and over his chest, down to his belly and back again. He grazes the edge of one nipple with his thumbnail and his eyes flick back up to Granby's face.

[renaissanceman]

Priestly leans in and bites down, just a little, catching the edge of John's lip for a moment before he opens his mouth wider to gasp. "Harder," he says, under his breath, before kissing him again. He digs his fingers into John's hip then, one hand still clutching John's half-removed shirt.

[sunburned]

The bite is good, the tilt of Granby's hips serving as evidence as that, even as he does as directed, scraping his nail across Priestly's nipple again before he pinches, lightly, between forefinger and thumb.

[renaissanceman]

"Fuck yes," says Priestly, a little louder. He gives up on the shirt, but not before he manages to tear off a button, and moves his hands down to John's trousers. "Like that."

[renaissanceman]

Priestly has never been so glad he got those stairs put in, even if they are rickety and railless. It's a little weird, because he's never brought anyone back here before, but there's a lot to be said for having a bed. And a table, and walls, and whatever, because no matter what it is it's got to be better than that stone.

"Let's skip the tour," he says, and takes his shirt off pretty much as soon as they're inside. He might as well have just left it behind.

[sunburned]

The new shirt ruined, John had pulled a clean t-shirt on as they'd left the caves and, for the moment, he leaves it on, watching the smooth skin of Priestly's back.

"It's a lovely home," he says, but that's clearly the last thing on his mind.

[renaissanceman]

"Wish I could take credit for it," he says, turning and backing a couple of steps towards the bed, right there in plain sight, unmade from this morning but, even being a military man, Priestly is pretty sure John will forgive him for that. "Nice and private. Lots of amenities." And what those are, he doesn't think he needs to spell out.

[sunburned]

"That much I can see," he says, closing some of the distance between, reaching out and grazing his fingers against Priestly's waistband.

"I don't think I've ever really had privacy before," he admits.

[renaissanceman]

"Well, you have more than you know what to do with, now," says Priestly. "No, actually, I hope you do know exactly what to do with it." Which, after blowing his mind in the caves, he feels fairly confident that he does.

[sunburned]

"Aviators are known for their adaptability," says Granby, flashing a crooked grin, hooking his fingers over Priestly's waistband and pulling him against him abruptly.

"So I suppose it depends what you're looking for."

[renaissanceman]

"A good time," he says, and figures that covers all of his bases right there. Or at least, the important ones. "I want to feel it for days. I want my boss to ask me what the hell I've been getting up to in my spare time when I come in with scratches and bite marks. And he totally would ask."

[sunburned]

This time, the grin that spreads across Granby's face is broader, his thumb grazing the dip of Priestly's navel as he thinks about it.

"That, I can do," he promises, leaning in to kiss Priestly, hard and hungry.

[renaissanceman]

"As long as you don't mind a few in return," he says, though it's a bit late to be asking that. They're both already a little scratched up from the stone, and there's a definite mark on John's shoulder that Priestly left there. He nips at John's lower lip, and then kisses him back just as hard.

[sunburned]

"I'll take anything you'll give me," promises Granby between kisses, pressing his knee forward between Priestly's thighs.

"However you want to give it."

[renaissanceman]

"Okay, I seriously can't do this any more standing up," says Priestly. Well, unless he has something propping him up, and he gives that idea all due consideration before carrying on. "And I'll let you take your time this time."

[sunburned]

He doesn't need anymore urging than that. He presses Priestly backwards until his knees hit the back of the bed and then he presses until he sits. He traces his thumb against his collarbone.

"God," he says, shakily. "I can't even begin to plan what I'd like to do with you. My head is spinning."