Moan (//ω//)
[ meme ]
Twenty-Four: My muse fawns over your muse’s neck (biting, kissing, etc.)
No he wasn’t drunk. Okay, he’d had a couple of drinks with his mates on the ship, in honor of those they had lost and because they all needed a drink. Finally back safe on the military ship, he took the liberty. But he wasn’t drunk, he’d built up a tolerance, and he stopped himself before he got wasted. Tipsy, yes, but not drunk
What had started it this time, was unclear. Perhaps just the feeling of finally being able to touch someone that he knew would actually stick around for a while, loneliness, desperation or because John had wondered for some time what it would feel like to kiss and touch a neck as perfect as that. Damn those android makers and their perfectly formed androids. Why did they always make them so damn beautiful? (okay, not always but most of the time.)
He had invited Walter into his private room, the purpose or sharing another drink with him but now the drinks were still standing at his desk, untouched, as he was sitting behind Walter on the bed slowly kissing and exploring that long perfect neck of his with his mouth. Kissing to see if and where he got a reaction and biting lightly at where he got one. His arms were wrapped around his chest and abdomen, touching and exploring just as slow and thorough as his lips explored the skin.
Someone had given him clothes to wear instead of that very skintight jumpsuit he had worn earlier, and he must admit, he preferred Walter in a t-shirt and a hoodie, rather than some form of body stocking. It was far more dignifying.





