( will's fingertips still itch to touch her, and though her hands let go of his wrists, graze slowly down the pale inside of his arms to brush over his collarbone, he tells himself to act as though she's still pinning him against the couch, restrained. his fingers curl inward, fingertips brushing against the heel of his palm, and he lets out a slow sigh.
stay still, then. right. stay still. that's totally a thing that will can do. totally a thing that will has no difficulties obeying — even though he totally sucks at staying still and fails miserably.
it's hard not to fail when her mouth, warm and wet, presses against the sensitive skin just below his jawline, making him tip his chin to the side with a small groan to provide more skin for her lips to kiss. it's hard not to fail when her palm slips beneath the worn fabric of his shirt, and he inhales sharply beneath her touch. it's been way too fucking long since someone's touched him even remotely like this, and god, he's fucking missed it. )
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stay still, then. right. stay still. that's totally a thing that will can do. totally a thing that will has no difficulties obeying — even though he totally sucks at staying still and fails miserably.
it's hard not to fail when her mouth, warm and wet, presses against the sensitive skin just below his jawline, making him tip his chin to the side with a small groan to provide more skin for her lips to kiss. it's hard not to fail when her palm slips beneath the worn fabric of his shirt, and he inhales sharply beneath her touch. it's been way too fucking long since someone's touched him even remotely like this, and god, he's fucking missed it. )
How am I doing?