( and if he’d been in his right mind, he might have called tim out on that. on how the teasing touches really aren’t helping, how it’s only burning jason even hotter. how each brush of his fingers against him right there, only aids in getting making jason even more antsy to get inside of him. tim is teasing him, whether purposefully or not, but jason can’t even think to protest when he has the taste of tim on his tongue, when he’s busy drinking in every sound that passes his throat.
jason is impatient. he’s been doing his best, really, he has—but this is pushing even his limits. he thrusts his digit in deep, pulls it back and pushes in a second finger. if tim’s uncomfortable, he’ll stop—he’ll swear he will; jason will slow down and take his time, but there’s absolutely no way he can resist trying to go a little faster when those noises are pouring down his throat, when tim’s fingers touch him just enough to get him aching but not enough to get him anywhere else.
his mouth pulls back to give him space to breathe, to take a few deep breaths and shift his head, tilt his face to dig his nose into tim’s hair, trying to burn every sense (the sight, the smell, the taste, his weight so close against him, the sounds tim makes--) into his head; this exact moment won’t last for forever, but jason sure as hell can do his best to burn it into the black under his eyelids, replace the nightmareish memories with something good for once. )
Tim. ( he calls out to him, voice low and gruff, fingers pressing in deep. ) Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.
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jason is impatient. he’s been doing his best, really, he has—but this is pushing even his limits. he thrusts his digit in deep, pulls it back and pushes in a second finger. if tim’s uncomfortable, he’ll stop—he’ll swear he will; jason will slow down and take his time, but there’s absolutely no way he can resist trying to go a little faster when those noises are pouring down his throat, when tim’s fingers touch him just enough to get him aching but not enough to get him anywhere else.
his mouth pulls back to give him space to breathe, to take a few deep breaths and shift his head, tilt his face to dig his nose into tim’s hair, trying to burn every sense (the sight, the smell, the taste, his weight so close against him, the sounds tim makes--) into his head; this exact moment won’t last for forever, but jason sure as hell can do his best to burn it into the black under his eyelids, replace the nightmareish memories with something good for once. )
Tim. ( he calls out to him, voice low and gruff, fingers pressing in deep. ) Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.