ngamchaweng:
leo’s mouth is so dry that his throat clicks when he swallows, tastes the scent of pure vanilla on his tongue and craves more. back bows at the same time his chin tilts up, the line of his body presses against jonathan’s and he can’t help the way his eyes roll back slightly at the contact. usually he’d have something witty to say to that, something cocky and a little bitchy, something like you’re damn right i’m sexy –– - but leo can’t find the words. his mind’s gone completely blank. baser instinct is taking over and leo is too goddamn turned on to do anything about it. he’s getting wet, can feel it, knows that jonathan can smell it and all he wants, more than anything, is for the other to do something about it. small hand lifts to grasp the wrist that’s near his face and all he can do is nod, red eyes mirroring the other’s. “talk later,” he agrees, voice nothing more than a whimpered breath.
the red eyes meeting his own, the smell of his slick, that fucking whimper? it’s all too much. large hand moves towards the side of leo’s waist and he leans in, decisively done with conversation. the kiss he gives him when they meet is hungry, it’s wanting; he wastes no time to push their lips apart with his own and take the mouth he’s been deprived of for weeks. there’s a chance that they might get caught, kissing like this in a room their coworkers frequent, but if he’s completely honest the thought of it turns him on. maybe it’ll be by that cardiologist who can’t seem to keep their fucking eyes to themselves. he hopes it is, then maybe he’ll finally see who the fuck leo’s alpha is. jonathan grips the side of his waist and immediately groans into his mouth. he’s small, smaller than he thought he’d be, one hand spanning more of his back than he thought it would. he can already imagine just how pretty he’d look bent over, back arched, itty bitty waist flaring out to his ass. the picture of it has him growing hard, lifting up the other’s leg so he can roll his hips against him.












