[And damn him, he watches the whole thing, his throat dry. Only when it becomes clear that Petre isn't getting completely undressed does he quickly turn onto his side, facing the wall, and grab the balled up blanket to kick and stretch it over himself.
Naptime, damnit. He'd better make good on that three hour promise.
Except that when John closes his eyes again, he's right back in this room last night. He's got Petre holding his face with one hand, stroking his wrist with the other, and his soft lips are moving more gently than John could ever have imagined. The mere memory of a light flick of tongue is enough to make him shiver.
Jesus christ. He can't do this. No one could be expected to do this.]
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Naptime, damnit. He'd better make good on that three hour promise.
Except that when John closes his eyes again, he's right back in this room last night. He's got Petre holding his face with one hand, stroking his wrist with the other, and his soft lips are moving more gently than John could ever have imagined. The mere memory of a light flick of tongue is enough to make him shiver.
Jesus christ. He can't do this. No one could be expected to do this.]