baby come kiss the reaper // no longer accepting
Do something once, and itâs an accident. Do something twice - still a coincidence. Three times? Now thatâs a pattern, and Gabriel knows all about those. He makes a living analyzing them, quite enjoys it too. But this? This is a pattern he canât quite put his finger on. Not yet.
Not that heâs complaining, mind you.
Itâs a habit theyâve both fallen into with a few stumbles and stuttering limbs, awkward and tentative.Â
Gabriel is, if nothing else, ever too used to suppressing the urge to press his nose in someoneâs neck, instincts getting the better of him unless he keeps them on a tight leash. Thereâs no time for it, heâs a Commander, not some whimpering pup.
Enter Jesse goddamn McCree.
So here he is, again. Heâs letting Jesse press him against the wall for some reason; it feels balanced like this, a little less like heâs cornering the kid like some mindless knothead. His stomach twisted and turned the first time, but now he folds willingly; head tipped back against the wall and fingers loosely curled in Jesseâs hair as the younger man presses his nose against Gabrielâs jaw, breathing in softly.
They linger in each otherâs scent a little longer every time, and Gabriel canât find it in himself to stop it.
Not when Jesseâs humming softly as his lips brush over Gabrielâs neck, so evidently pleased with what heâs finding that Gabriel tips his head back further, giving him space to work.
He crashes headfirst into and through another carefully set boundary when Jesse pulls back and Gabriel finds himself holding his chin, gentle but insistent; presses his lips against Jesseâs to taste himself there, warmth and arousal and a hint of something soft, like coming home.
If threeâs a pattern, he canât wait for what four might mean.