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Summary
Dennis made to pull away, but Robby tightened his grip.
“Don’t you dare,” he chuckled.
Just like that, they were aware again. Aware of how Robby’s fingers were pressing searing marks straight into Dennis’ skin, spots that no other man was lucky enough to touch. With how loose the thing was, Robby could easily slide his hands up, up, upward under the fabric of the jumper and trace teasing fingertips over his ribs. He could duck down, hold Dennis in place and taste each mole and freckle there, leave a bitten red claim somewhere only they could find it. He had an idea, then.
“I’ll show you,” he said. Promised. “You’re pretty enough for Greek myths. Kingdoms would go to war over you, I’ll show you.”
(Or, Dennis' comfort is Robby's temptation.)