[ Although on the surface it's light-hearted conversation, there's something underlying the words they're saying that James thinks speaks at far higher volumes than just the question, the answer. He thinks about all of Los Angeles, so inherently appearance-fixated, so distinctively vain, seeing itself for what it really is underneath. Dark and gritty and ugly. Then, he thinks about himself in front of that kind of honesty mirror.
A hard intake of breath. Yeah, definitely something out of Dante. Purgatory. Hell. Which, supposedly, everything considered...
Instead of giving it anymore thought, he focuses on the other man's proximity, the feel of his tongue's trail of saliva up the side of his neck, his nose pushing in behind his ear, his hand on his back, stroking, stroking, almost soothingly, except not really. Nothing's really soothing with Mr. Devil, is it? His own voice, when he speaks again, sounds hoarse and noticeably affected.
It's the way he can feel the weight of Mr. Morningstar's cock jerk slightly against the back of his hand where he continues his own stroking over his thigh, inner thigh, running the tips of his fingers over the thin stretch of skin that separates leg from crotch. ]
I think - [ Twisting slightly on the bench, he turns more fully towards the other man, coming face to face with him, not quite on eye-level, because he just has to be a tiny bit imposing, doesn't he? He has to be just a tiny bit out of scale, down to the physicals. James glances up at his face, catches his eyes, holding his gaze, his breathing slightly shallow at this point. His hand pushes in between the man's thighs, just urging, inviting him to spread them further, rather than actively forcing anything as he leans in slowly, their noses bumping for a second, their lips brushing. He talks directly against his mouth. ] - we should end the Q&A here, Mr. Morningstar.
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A hard intake of breath. Yeah, definitely something out of Dante. Purgatory. Hell. Which, supposedly, everything considered...
Instead of giving it anymore thought, he focuses on the other man's proximity, the feel of his tongue's trail of saliva up the side of his neck, his nose pushing in behind his ear, his hand on his back, stroking, stroking, almost soothingly, except not really. Nothing's really soothing with Mr. Devil, is it? His own voice, when he speaks again, sounds hoarse and noticeably affected.
It's the way he can feel the weight of Mr. Morningstar's cock jerk slightly against the back of his hand where he continues his own stroking over his thigh, inner thigh, running the tips of his fingers over the thin stretch of skin that separates leg from crotch. ]
I think - [ Twisting slightly on the bench, he turns more fully towards the other man, coming face to face with him, not quite on eye-level, because he just has to be a tiny bit imposing, doesn't he? He has to be just a tiny bit out of scale, down to the physicals. James glances up at his face, catches his eyes, holding his gaze, his breathing slightly shallow at this point. His hand pushes in between the man's thighs, just urging, inviting him to spread them further, rather than actively forcing anything as he leans in slowly, their noses bumping for a second, their lips brushing. He talks directly against his mouth. ] - we should end the Q&A here, Mr. Morningstar.