[Maybe trust isn't something that's earned with Tim. Maybe it's not something fought to win - maybe it's given and expected to be kept. Maybe that's how it is for Jason, at least. Tim has so many reasons not to trust Jason, and yet he does anyway. He wants to trust Jason, and now that the idea's been planted in his head, it's going to take a hell of a lot to dissuade him from this path.
At the start of this, Tim expected a battle of sorts. He expected rough kisses, bites, bruises, and Jason's given him all of this, sure - but there's more. There's gentleness, care, concern. There's slow, exploratory kisses, kisses that linger, kisses that simply savor the contact, and Tim didn't expect any of that from Jason, but it feels, in a place beyond words, like undeniable confirmation that his instinct about Jason, his willingness to trust, is correct. Like there's so much more to Jason, underneath the gruff exterior and the smoldering anger and his seemingly-endless well of pain. Tim's suspected as much, and now, he feels like he knows it to be true.
Tim exhales a thin whine at the side of Jason's neck when he takes him in hand again. His hips buck forward; his fingertips rove over Jason's shoulders, against his neck, over the sides of his face, mapping out the shape of Jason, then come to rest buried in his hair. There's no disguising the awed note his tone takes when he finds his capacity for words once again.]
God, Jason, I could come just like this, you know that? But - mm, I meant what I said before. I want you to fuck me, I want to make you feel good, too - you feel - so good, Jason.
no subject
At the start of this, Tim expected a battle of sorts. He expected rough kisses, bites, bruises, and Jason's given him all of this, sure - but there's more. There's gentleness, care, concern. There's slow, exploratory kisses, kisses that linger, kisses that simply savor the contact, and Tim didn't expect any of that from Jason, but it feels, in a place beyond words, like undeniable confirmation that his instinct about Jason, his willingness to trust, is correct. Like there's so much more to Jason, underneath the gruff exterior and the smoldering anger and his seemingly-endless well of pain. Tim's suspected as much, and now, he feels like he knows it to be true.
Tim exhales a thin whine at the side of Jason's neck when he takes him in hand again. His hips buck forward; his fingertips rove over Jason's shoulders, against his neck, over the sides of his face, mapping out the shape of Jason, then come to rest buried in his hair. There's no disguising the awed note his tone takes when he finds his capacity for words once again.]
God, Jason, I could come just like this, you know that? But - mm, I meant what I said before. I want you to fuck me, I want to make you feel good, too - you feel - so good, Jason.