( Sunday's shorts barely slide past his hips when Gallagher takes hold of his chin and kisses him. Unclear is the reasoning behind this. A reward for doing as he asked, or just another way of keeping Sunday on his toes? Who does Gallagher think he is, seizing Sunday in this way? The sibilance of tch just passes Sunday's lips when his mouth is covered by Gallagher's warm, smiling affection, unshaven chin and cheeks bristling in the places where their skin touch.
Willing away his desire is the opposite of what Gallagher wants from him. Sunday should be hard and needy in a way unbefitting of Penacony's leader. He should want Gallagher in a way he's never wanted anyone before. This dirty dog isn't good for much, but untold Amber Eras worth of kissing, sucking, fucking, and otherwise unwisely mitigating his way through his problems have taught Gallagher where most people like to be touched. Everyone's different, naturally, but some places are universal.
βthe erogenous zone of someone's waist, down to their thighs, for one. Without the trunks, Gallagher's got free rein to glide his fingers and rake his nails down the newly exposed space. Deliberately avoiding Sunday's cock, he takes pleasure in just... feeling a place he's certain no one's ever felt before, staking claim to a mouth no one's owned before him. )
Not bad, Mister Wings...
( All first kisses are, by their nature, a little bad, but Gallagher's not going to burst his bubble so soon. He pulls away from him, but only to sit on his bungalow bed and offer Sunday a chance to rid himself of the clinging clothing. Mister Wing is welcome to take a seat atop him. )
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Willing away his desire is the opposite of what Gallagher wants from him. Sunday should be hard and needy in a way unbefitting of Penacony's leader. He should want Gallagher in a way he's never wanted anyone before. This dirty dog isn't good for much, but untold Amber Eras worth of kissing, sucking, fucking, and otherwise unwisely mitigating his way through his problems have taught Gallagher where most people like to be touched. Everyone's different, naturally, but some places are universal.
βthe erogenous zone of someone's waist, down to their thighs, for one. Without the trunks, Gallagher's got free rein to glide his fingers and rake his nails down the newly exposed space. Deliberately avoiding Sunday's cock, he takes pleasure in just... feeling a place he's certain no one's ever felt before, staking claim to a mouth no one's owned before him. )
Not bad, Mister Wings...
( All first kisses are, by their nature, a little bad, but Gallagher's not going to burst his bubble so soon. He pulls away from him, but only to sit on his bungalow bed and offer Sunday a chance to rid himself of the clinging clothing. Mister Wing is welcome to take a seat atop him. )
Your turn.