Work Text:
From cold his eyes have turned warm, burning like summer, green and brown that seem gold under the sun. Primož's eyes express everything, this intensity that Tom can not let go - he is a prisoner there.
Emotions replace words, desire is transmitted, Tom imagines himself on top of Primož, touching him and undressing him and caressing him, Tom sees them naked on the warm tiles at the end of the day, smack, slic, ohh, all these sounds reach his ears and mask cicadas' song. It's hot, his body and Primož's joined together, this breeze on his back and Primož's tongue in his mouth, oh yes Primož, Tom moaned elsewhere for just a few seconds.
Then this evanescent gaze is broken by the arrival of the other bee boys.