sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence

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There is always paperwork to be done. Granby has handwriting typical of an Aviator - educated by the Corps from the age of seven, there had always been more exciting things to do than practising making letters, especially once he'd started to show promise as a Mid. It's not that it's illegible, just that it's a bit of a scrawl and he does have a tendency to spread the words out more than they maybe need to be. Still, he's grateful of something to be doing, something to keep his mind occupied. He's been aware of being something of a scrub for the last week or so, but it really is impossible, unable to tell what way Laurence is going to go from one minute to the next.

Files? Are much easier to predict.

Granby glances up towards the clock. Not long until dinner, but time to finish what he's doing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The sound was glorious, was perfect, and os was the way that Laurence tugged him in closer, pressing the lines of their bodies together. It's all that Granby can do not to move against him, not to grind against him. He holds himself relatively in check, sucking on Laurence's bottom lip, his fingers pushed into his hair, careful not to pull.

Laurence could very well have continued on entirely in that established vein if given no hints to do otherwise, and he did indeed do so. Kissing and touching in such a manner required very little thought and was tolerably pleasant besides.

Though he's seen rough use in his life, John Granby has never been tortured - this, though, is what he imagines it would feel like. He shifts, determined to be patient, to be what Laurence wants and needs, but God, it's maddening. He breaks the kiss, breathless.

"Please, Will," he says, unsure of what he's even asking for, aware of the needy tone in his voice as he takes another deep kiss.

That tone in Granby's voice was enough to give Laurence pause and he momentarily halted, looking at the other man with a curious expression before the kissing resumed. It was almost enough to be slightly worrying, but if Granby would not tell him outright what it was that he wished...

It's almost painful. He refuses to believe that Laurence doesn't, on some level, know exactly what he wants, but he's also determined not to push too hard. He settles for squirming a little closer, pressing forward just a little with his hips.

Though it doubtless must have seemed like far too long a time to Granby, Laurence's hand did eventually move from its place on Granby's hip to regions further south. Yet even then he still moved at an extremely slow pace.

They're both still fully dressed but, still, Laurence's hand on his cock is enough to make Granby's his jerk, pressing against Laurence's palm as he groans against his lips.

The sound of Granby's groan seemed to travel a curious route from Laurence's ears, down his spine in a pleasurable shiver, and straight to his groin. He rubbed his hand against the fabric of Granby's trousers, aware of his own steadily growing interest, yet resolved to save that for a later time.

William Laurence is possibly the most infuriating man that Granby has ever met. That much is certain. He's sure that he hasn't been groped through his trousers like this since he was a boy, but it's somehow exactly what he wants, right in that moment.

His hand slips down from Laurence's hair to his arm, fingers curling to squeeze his bicep.

Laurence gasped slightly into the kiss, breath catching unsteadily in his throat. His hand was surer now, moving with a steadiness that nearly every other part of him seemed to lack. Eventually, he may have to move on to a different track, yet for the moment he was content as things were.

The situation was almost uncomfortably warm and close, and it undoubtably looked incredibly foolish from the view of another, but it felt right in a way he could not define and would not try to for the moment.

There is no part him that Granby doesn't want Laurence's hand on, his fingers stroking. Laurence's gasp comes hot against his lips and Granby smiles, just a flicker, lifting his hips to push into the pressure of Laurence's hand.

Granby's smile, more sensed than actually seen, was truly what helped to convince Laurence that yes, his next course of action was appropriate. Though there was the matter of the modern trousers that Granby insisted on wearing. Why men had chosen to forgo respectable buttons and ties for a maze of metal was beyond him, and his fingers fumbled rather indelicately at their task.

The fumbling strikes Granby as completely hilarious but he's got the good grace not to laugh. He swallows, trying to catch his breath.

"Can I...? Do you need me to..?"

"If you would be so kind, John," Laurence finally said after yet another abortive attempt, his face now flushed with embarrassment as well as pleasure.

Still smiling, Granby leans in and kisses Laurence again, warmly, flicking open his button and zip with one hand, easily enough. Beneath, he's wearing cotton - simple enough.

Despite his own abundant thoughts on the matter, Laurence wisely decided that this was neither the time or place to make his opinions on modern dress known. Instead he focused more fully on the task at hand, attempting to both partially unclothe Granby enough to be convenient while also not looking like a total fool in the process.

Granby is well aware of Laurence's opinions on modern dress but he finds himself more focuse on the task in hand. He lifts his hip as much as he can, letting Laurence shuffle his clothes out of the way as he will.

Laurence did so as efficiently as possible until Granby was exposed and he could get to the matter itself. From then on it was fairly simple, after all, he had been doing the same for himself for quite some time. That may, however, have not been entirely a good thing, as decades spent in very close quarters meant that he was used to going about such things rather quickly.

He's wanted it badly enough that he's breathless and squirming quickly, pushing into Laurence's hand. It's a familiar scenario, clothes pushed out of the way rather than stripped off, speed rather than lingering.

But, God, he wants to linger.

"Will," he mumbles, lips grazing against Laurence's mouth. "I want you..." he stumbles over it. "Slow down. Please. I want you to..." He bites his lip. "I'd like to feel you. Please."

Laurence nodded, doing his best to slow down his pacing to an acceptable rate. After a moment or two of that he looked at Granby, trying to gauge the success of the thing.

That look, that glance, is so endearing that, for a moment, all Granby can do is stare. It's the startling realisation that, maybe, there is something here that's just not want.

He shakes his head, still smiling. "Naked," he says. "I want you naked and me naked too. Then I want your hands on me again. If that's acceptable."

"Yes. I think that is... acceptable," Laurence said, Granby's smile echoed in his own face through the flush of anticipation and something more heated as well. Though the pace had picked up rather a great deal with the suggestion (or possibly order, it had been somewhat blurred until the question at the end) it was not by any means a bad thing.

He means it - he intends to take his time after this, but, right now, there's no stopping. His breathing speeds up, hips rocking now to press through the circle of Laurence's fingers.

"Jesus, Will," he says, because, despite the blushing, there's nothing wrong with Laurence's technique other than a somewhat frantic pace.

Laurence once more tried to consciously slow down. A part of him wanted to get on to the next thing, to finish it properly for John, but another part wanted to draw it out and linger. In the end, the first part won out over the other.

His fingers are tight on Laurence's bicep again, his mouth hovering, his hips rocking steadily and it feels like every muscle in him is wound tight.

He whimpers Laurence's name as he comes.