[ Parted lips and an almost moan sure feel like an invitation and John's not the sort to ignore it; the taste of him only drives him on further in a way that feels like a kind of madness, familiar and strange at once. He leans into Reno's hands (not that he knows that's his name, not that they've really bothered with introductions, not that he's ever needed that before) and if Reno gets those pants open, he's going to find exactly what he's hoping for.
But the invitation is in the kiss as well, his tongue sliding into Reno's mouth to explore, to draw him in, draw him closer, feel what it's like to be inside of him. The low rumble in his chest only deepens, enough so that Reno will feel it at the fingertips, and John wants to taste the rest of him, wants access to everything.]
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But the invitation is in the kiss as well, his tongue sliding into Reno's mouth to explore, to draw him in, draw him closer, feel what it's like to be inside of him. The low rumble in his chest only deepens, enough so that Reno will feel it at the fingertips, and John wants to taste the rest of him, wants access to everything.]
Fucking clothes...
[ He's not a fan. ]