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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.

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"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.

"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.

"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."

"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."

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.

"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.

"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."

"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."

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."

"Maybe you can teach me something new," says Priestly, leaning back on his elbows and letting his legs fall open. "You got any favourite old-timey positions?"

Granby huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as his knee hits the bed between Priestly's thighs and he starts to peel his t-shirt off.

"It's always been kind of a fumble," he admits. "I think you're the one who ought to be teaching me, don't you?"

Priestly wonders if this is when he should admit that he's only been with one other guy. And granted, it was Yorick, so once they got over themselves, they managed to get pretty creative. But still.

"I think I've already shown you my greatest skill," he says, "but I'd be happy to demonstrate some more."

Unbuttoning his trousers one handed, Granby grins down at him before he starts to shove them down over his hips.

"Show me," he says. "I put myself completely at your mercy."

Priestly waits for him to get them all the way off, shoves his own shorts off and is even less concerned with where they land this time than he was when he dropped them in the cave.

"All right," he says, and grins and pulls John onto the bed and rolls them till he's the one on top. "Just remember you asked for it."

"Should I be nervous?" asks Granby, but he looks anything but, knees fallen wide apart to make room for Priestly between them, hand resting against the pillow next to his head. He shifts his hips experimentally.

"Only if you hate awesomeness," says Priestly, and starts at his collarbones, licking and sucking and grazing his teeth along the ridge. The frantic part is over, and now he can take his time too. He can explore this skin, these marks, these scars, and figure out what gets John going besides the obvious, which Priestly figures he's already shown his prowess at.

The word he doesn't know but the meaning is obvious. He works at staying still, sinking into the feeling of Priestly's mouth moving over his skin. His thighs do tighten, slightly, pressing against Priestly's sides.

When it comes to putting his mouth on things, Priestly is intensely focused on his task. And it's not even about what he's feeling, what he's tasting, but about the sounds it makes John make, the movements and shivers and twitches it pulls out of him. He moves downward, over his chest, tongue tracing scars and kissing marks on his skin. Nothing is overlooked.

It's so easy to lie there and just let his head spin, just focus on damp heat of Priestly's mouth moving over his skin, the brush of his tongue.

He drags in a shivering breath.

Finally he's at John's groin, licking at the creases where his body joins his legs, nuzzling at his cock but not focussing on it and instead spreading John's legs even further with one hand on the inside of each thigh and moving in lower to mouth his balls.

That's insanely good and it makes it impossible to stay still. His hips squirm against the bed and he's spread, exposed, heels digging into the bed.

And that's not a thing that he'd do to change it.

He lingers there for a long time, shifts with John's shifts, squirms with John's squirms, then he's pushing his legs even wider, pushing his thighs up, and moving back and in even deeper.

It's not the first time that's someone's done this to him, for him but it's rare enough that it makes his head spin. His groans, no words, just a long, low sound.

Priestly doesn't hesitate and he doesn't let up. He knows this territory, and he knows what to do with it. But he doesn't go too fast either, takes it by fractions, sucking here, licking there, nipping in between, until he reaches his goal and clutches John's thighs even more tightly as he licks hard over it.

That draws a loud, ragged sound out of him, his hips jerking, cock pulsing against his belly. He bites down on his lip hard, not used to the freedom to make a noise.

"Jesus."