[This time, he kind of knows it's coming. He knows from the way Joseph's looking at him, like he can't look hard enough or long enough, and from the way he touches, so attentive it's almost reverent. It feels like love, being touched like that, and the sound that slips out is soft and surprised and overwhelmed.]
[So he knows Joseph's going to push him down. That doesn't mean he's ready for it, though, not by a long shot, because there's knowing and then there's feeling, and this, here — it's better than in the kitchen, better by a long shot, more right. He wants this, to be here in their bed that smells like them, Joseph holding him down and kissing him and touching him and, god, he doesn't know how this happened but if it hadn't, would he even know how much he was missing?]
[His breath hitches, hips shifting at the touches to the sensitive scratches on his stomach. More when Joseph's fingers start pulling at his belt again, and he has to catch his bottom lip in his teeth and Joseph's hair between his fingers to keep from saying something stupid, like please a thousand times. But he can't just say nothing, he feels overflowing with words, stupid sweet things that are embarrassing but that he means, and then some things, more possessive, that he can't entirely hold back.]
[His fingers tighten in Joseph's hair and he licks his lips. It's a kiss on his neck that knocks it out of him in the end, low and rough and almost a growl: mine, Jojo, sei mio, and he reaches down and grabs Joseph's ass with a sharp sigh, closing his eyes against the desire to say words he isn't sure he means, yet.]
[Sei mio, at least, is easy. Unquestionable. Sei mio, there's no doubt, and there never will be.]
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[So he knows Joseph's going to push him down. That doesn't mean he's ready for it, though, not by a long shot, because there's knowing and then there's feeling, and this, here — it's better than in the kitchen, better by a long shot, more right. He wants this, to be here in their bed that smells like them, Joseph holding him down and kissing him and touching him and, god, he doesn't know how this happened but if it hadn't, would he even know how much he was missing?]
[His breath hitches, hips shifting at the touches to the sensitive scratches on his stomach. More when Joseph's fingers start pulling at his belt again, and he has to catch his bottom lip in his teeth and Joseph's hair between his fingers to keep from saying something stupid, like please a thousand times. But he can't just say nothing, he feels overflowing with words, stupid sweet things that are embarrassing but that he means, and then some things, more possessive, that he can't entirely hold back.]
[His fingers tighten in Joseph's hair and he licks his lips. It's a kiss on his neck that knocks it out of him in the end, low and rough and almost a growl: mine, Jojo, sei mio, and he reaches down and grabs Joseph's ass with a sharp sigh, closing his eyes against the desire to say words he isn't sure he means, yet.]
[Sei mio, at least, is easy. Unquestionable. Sei mio, there's no doubt, and there never will be.]