That unguarded gasp is music to Danse's ears, and the teasing struggle is a thrill, but not so much of one as the way Deacon pauses it while distracted by pleasure. It makes Danse reward him with more attention there, a longer and more lingering and slightly harder sucking kiss to the pulse point.
"You already know what I think about," he murmurs in Deacon's ear, "because I've detailed it for you while I'm doing it." But that's hardly been the only time he's done that before or since. And Deacon is absolutely right about what's on his mind lately.
"I think about the way you taunt me every time I see you," he pants, voice deep and vibrating against Deacon's skin. "I think about how you're practically begging me to drag you just out of view and pin you to a wall--see how well you can really keep quiet when secrecy is on the line. But I've thought about this, too. Having time to do anything I want. Working you up like you did when you made me beg you for it. Remembering what you taste like, for the next time I have to go without touching you for weeks on end."
And because Deacon's letting him--taunting him again, encouraging him even if it sounds like teasing protest--he punctuates this with a slow drag of his tongue along that same armpit, the pressure just light enough to keep tickling.
"At least you're admitting you've given me a reason to want revenge," he breathes over the wet skin.
Deacon shivers beneath Danse's hot breath, the sultry way he's murmuring in Deacon's ear making him weak to the onslaught of attention. It's such a stark contrast to the last time, even to the evening they'd spent messaging one another behind their terminal screens, but Deacon can't complain about the way Danse takes initiative, it's inspired.
"Hearing you say it is so much more satisfying than a few words on a screen..." Deacon muses, "Your voice--" he croaks, cut off but the things Danse starts saying to him, each one flattering and hotter than the last. He squirms, panting himself, his spine arching up off of the mattress.
"You make me sound so obvious..." he groans, "Jesus, you make it impossible to keep quiet. Listen to yourself," Deacon practically moans as he says it, "What if I told you you'd have me begging in no-time if you keep this up?" he breathes, his hips grinding up hard against Danse's.
His arms flinch and stress again at where Danse holds them, a ragged inhale audible as he's tickled again. "It's a never-ending cycle," he sighs teasingly as he calms himself again, "I am so getting you back for this. Just you fucking wait."
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no subject
"You already know what I think about," he murmurs in Deacon's ear, "because I've detailed it for you while I'm doing it." But that's hardly been the only time he's done that before or since. And Deacon is absolutely right about what's on his mind lately.
"I think about the way you taunt me every time I see you," he pants, voice deep and vibrating against Deacon's skin. "I think about how you're practically begging me to drag you just out of view and pin you to a wall--see how well you can really keep quiet when secrecy is on the line. But I've thought about this, too. Having time to do anything I want. Working you up like you did when you made me beg you for it. Remembering what you taste like, for the next time I have to go without touching you for weeks on end."
And because Deacon's letting him--taunting him again, encouraging him even if it sounds like teasing protest--he punctuates this with a slow drag of his tongue along that same armpit, the pressure just light enough to keep tickling.
"At least you're admitting you've given me a reason to want revenge," he breathes over the wet skin.
no subject
"Hearing you say it is so much more satisfying than a few words on a screen..." Deacon muses, "Your voice--" he croaks, cut off but the things Danse starts saying to him, each one flattering and hotter than the last. He squirms, panting himself, his spine arching up off of the mattress.
"You make me sound so obvious..." he groans, "Jesus, you make it impossible to keep quiet. Listen to yourself," Deacon practically moans as he says it, "What if I told you you'd have me begging in no-time if you keep this up?" he breathes, his hips grinding up hard against Danse's.
His arms flinch and stress again at where Danse holds them, a ragged inhale audible as he's tickled again. "It's a never-ending cycle," he sighs teasingly as he calms himself again, "I am so getting you back for this. Just you fucking wait."