Tim's head tilts back and he groans low in his throat at the feeling of Matt's mouth on his neck. It took him awhile to learn that Matt knew when he had bruises, on his throat or otherwise, even if he can't see them. Maybe he can feel their warmth, feel the heat of the blood pooling beneath skin. He never thought Matt's other senses were that heightened, but sometimes, like when Matt's fingers find the blossoming bruises above his collarbone, he thinks otherwise.
Matt's never taken his shirt off during sex, and Tim's never questioned it. Honestly, he's never thought much of it, because their sexual encounters are usually desperate and frantic and in some sort of half-dressed state anyway.
But things are slow now, and he still doesn't think much of Matt unbuttoning his shirt. He's too occupied with the other's belt, getting it undone and pulling it through the loops. He only looks up once Matt's abandoned his shirt, and when he does, the first thing he notices is abs.
He already knew Matt was ripped. He could feel the muscles through his shirt when they were close, whether it was fucking or leaning against each other when they were too drunk to stand upright. But there's a difference between feeling and seeing. Especially since he couldn't ever feel the god-awful bruises that litter Matt's abdomen.
"Wait--" Of course he has questions. Who wouldn't have questions about their blind lawyer not!boyfriend looking like he lost a bad fist fight? He puts a hand on Matt's shoulder, pushes him back just a little so he can get a better look at the bruising. It's not all fresh, he realizes. Some are recent, but some are old and fading like the marks on Tim's throat. Though, he reckons Matt didn't get these from fucking someone else.
He wants to ask. He's concerned. But Matt didn't pry when Tim didn't want to pursue the potential alcoholism line of questioning, and it's pretty clear Matt doesn't want to discuss this, otherwise they would have already. Matt didn't push about Tim's abuse of liquor, so Tim won't pry about Matt's Fight Club status.
Not yet, anyway.
Instead, what he ends up doing is pushing Matt away further, back against the back of the couch, and straddling his lap carefully. This way, Matt doesn't have to exert as much energy, and Tim can do most of the work. His hands find the other's shoulders and he rocks his hips down slowly, cock already hard through his pants, gaze locked on Matt's face.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-01-12 09:10 pm (UTC)Matt's never taken his shirt off during sex, and Tim's never questioned it. Honestly, he's never thought much of it, because their sexual encounters are usually desperate and frantic and in some sort of half-dressed state anyway.
But things are slow now, and he still doesn't think much of Matt unbuttoning his shirt. He's too occupied with the other's belt, getting it undone and pulling it through the loops. He only looks up once Matt's abandoned his shirt, and when he does, the first thing he notices is abs.
He already knew Matt was ripped. He could feel the muscles through his shirt when they were close, whether it was fucking or leaning against each other when they were too drunk to stand upright. But there's a difference between feeling and seeing. Especially since he couldn't ever feel the god-awful bruises that litter Matt's abdomen.
"Wait--" Of course he has questions. Who wouldn't have questions about their blind lawyer not!boyfriend looking like he lost a bad fist fight? He puts a hand on Matt's shoulder, pushes him back just a little so he can get a better look at the bruising. It's not all fresh, he realizes. Some are recent, but some are old and fading like the marks on Tim's throat. Though, he reckons Matt didn't get these from fucking someone else.
He wants to ask. He's concerned. But Matt didn't pry when Tim didn't want to pursue the potential alcoholism line of questioning, and it's pretty clear Matt doesn't want to discuss this, otherwise they would have already. Matt didn't push about Tim's abuse of liquor, so Tim won't pry about Matt's Fight Club status.
Not yet, anyway.
Instead, what he ends up doing is pushing Matt away further, back against the back of the couch, and straddling his lap carefully. This way, Matt doesn't have to exert as much energy, and Tim can do most of the work. His hands find the other's shoulders and he rocks his hips down slowly, cock already hard through his pants, gaze locked on Matt's face.