👻|| @goldfaded ( cont. )
after their night on the roof, clayton felt a bit more relaxed around liam. some of his defenses were down, after explaining some of his background – but not all of them. when liam offered to train with him, clayton clammed up, even harder than he normally would’ve.
but, he still said yes.
getting liam to the ground was deceptively easy – that’s probably due to him not using his power, when clayton was never not using his own. but clayton was distracted by the way his knees framed liam’s waist, the way he’d pinned the other with an arm barring across his chest, feeling the rounds of muscle underneath the thin shirt.
the way that, if there were lays layers between them, liam would aimed almost perfectly to just push inside.
“–you okay?” he asks, only letting up on liam’s chest a little.
Yeap. Dust. Again. It wasn’t like Liam was a glutton for punishment—or maybe a part of him was trying to let the other put of that steam that Clay had warned of him before—but feeling the firm catch of the mat against his back and that pin against the breadth of his chest was almost a lull. A bitch. But a lull. It wasn’t like Liam signed up to use his powers after all—he just wanted to test his own prowess in combat at least. He needed to exceed his mentor’s expectation on that end after all come next session. But fighting a God of War isn’t as cool as the video games—especially not when you’re in the receiving end. Though, at least, with how the other just weighed onto him, heaving mass just round and curvy, just like the pair of pecs that had been trying to get out of his shirt ever since they began, there’s some little win that he at least managed to hum through his soft grunt. Not that the thrumming adrenaline was already making the whole thing all warm and fuzzy.
“I don’t know—feel numb…” Liam chuckled, rather breathlessly—and it wasn’t a tease. That with his hands moving up to grip at the soldier’s massive thighs, Liam just grunted a bit through his smirk, swiveling his hip to no avail—save for how his crotch practically nudged at the apex of the other’s thigh. “—f’r the r-ecord, ‘m tryin to stand—not dry humping…”
