here’s the thing about worick.
he’s too easy to flirt with --- he invites touch with an easy nonchalance, like affection’s his method of communication. and don’t get zack wrong, he loves it; with worick, he can skip past the awkwardness and bask in all that physical attention --- he can follow the impulse to move in close and touch. his worry, and the thing that has him briefly pausing, is that sometimes he wonders if worick expects it to mean nothing.
zack doesn’t want it to mean nothing. it’s not a quick fumble. but it’s difficult to find the words to ensure worick knows that while he’s being so very distracting.
honestly, the man knows what he’s doing. there’s this look about him, something in the curve of his smile, that has heat tripping up zack’s spine. it’s rare that he feels weak, but a single kiss to the column of his throat has his brain disengaging and his body going pleasantly light and shivery.
he thinks he’ll retain some self-control, but then teeth come into play and there’s a sharp pleasure-pain where a bruise is sucked into his skin and --- yeah, he’s making these sounds distinctly like breathy moans. he’s a weak, weak man. he grips worick’s shoulders, then slides a hand into his hair.
“worth what?” he manages to ask, unable to help the grin lighting his face in response. he prods at his neck, unsurprised to discover he’s been marked up, and laughs. no move’s made to shift from his place on worick’s lap. “keep grinning like that. just see if i don’t give you one back.”
it’s an offer, really --- they can keep going, or they can stop here. either way, zack plans on having a talk afterward.
