"Holy shit," he agrees, soft and a little wrecked. Proko doesn't even attempt to move, except maybe to grope for his shirt, to pull it under his head. The carpet itches his cheek. He just lays there, breathing: a filthy fucking mess with light from a porn movie lighting him up.
Eventually one hand moves, blindly seeking Jiang's until he can catch it, hold it against him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-04-19 04:25 pm (UTC)Eventually one hand moves, blindly seeking Jiang's until he can catch it, hold it against him.