Paul's heart is racing as he hears the other's footsteps, and he's reminded how long it's been since he hasn't dreaded a gait like that. This is different. This is Loki, and this isn't some social dance-around. This is his friend--this is his fucking soulmate, whether they like it or not--seeking him out purposefully.
Paul thinks that this is what could actually make him happy. Not Irene. It had never been Irene, Irene had just been what he thought he wanted, something he knew he could never obtain. He doesn't have to 'obtain' Loki, though. Loki is his. He's Loki's. They're all consuming.
That lock clicks in a way that Paul always finds satisfying, but not as satisfying as Loki moving toward him with intent. The driver meets him halfway and lifts one grease stained hand to the side of his compass' face to pull him closer into a desperate, wanting kiss, the other hand shifting to the small of Loki's back to press in close, ruining one of those beautifully starched white shirts. Paul doesn't care. He thinks Loki doesn't, either, tongue pushing past the other's teeth in a fit of passion, tasting him completely.
They crash into each other like the sea into the shore and Loki's hands grab onto Paul, fisting in his shirt at the collar and the small of his back without a moments thought about the perfect grease on those perfect hands or the way that it immediately made him smell like his lover. It was proof that Paul had touched him. That Paul let himself be touched. Loki felt they could both use some of that. Some selfishness.
Loki's mouth plys open at the first hint, tongue eager to wrestle with Paul's, to taste and be tasted. It didn't matter that their teeth clinked a little here and there as he pushes him back. He couldn't tell if they'd hit surface or if he'd just stopped but he manages to unfist his hands briefly and long enough to tear his winter jacket off to be abandoned on the floor. His hands shift, scrambling down to get up under Paul's shirt, greedy for a feel of him before they're moving towards his jeans, fingers a little stumbling but insistent.
This was how he had wanted to say goodbye to Paul, wanted to be the way he said hello or 'hey pass me the remote'. They weren't starry eyed kids anymore, (if they were ever starry eyed, which Loki doubts), this wasn't hormones and exploration or playacting house when they got the chance. His everything needed the quiet man, now, tomorrow, next week. The rest of his life if he could manage.
Paul allows Loki to push himself forward, still kissing with ferocity, still never wanting to let Loki go, panting into the kiss as that winter jacket hits the floor. His abdomen wound is mostly healed, and even if it did hurt Paul's mind is a flurry of lust and desire and want and possessiveness that he can't explain. Loki's got his hands tracing down to his jeans and Paul's moan is half of a pleasured growl, hot and heavy by Loki's face.
Paul's knees hit the couch and he drops the hand on Loki's back to help him with his jeans, already rock hard, already wanting for every aspect of Loki he can have. He breathes out, full of need and pulls back only to kiss along that square, strong jaw, teeth scraping at the day's stubble as he tear at Loki's shirt. The buttons pop off with the strength of Paul's desire and it's a mere fraction of a second before those lips are on the other's clavicle like they were Loki's jaw only seconds before.
That soft little snarl of Paul's goes straight to Loki's dick and as soon as the jeans are out of the way, he's pushing denim down and out of the way so he can grab Paul's hips. He didn't hear the little moan that slips out as he's nipped and kissed at, brow furrowed in pleasure, and doesn't give the tearing of the shirt more than a surprised sharp inhale and tears it off the rest of the way with a tight throated groan that slipped back into panting into Paul's ear. As soon as his hands were free, one slid around Paul's neck, fingers lightly gripping his head, the other moved back to briefly fist in his shirt before that's getting pulled up.
As soon as they were shirtless, Loki shoves Paul back into the couch, following quickly after with his own as he kisses him again, weight propped on one hand on the back of the couch to keep him from falling fully into Paul's chest and allowing him the ability to more slowly sink down to his knees. The kiss broke when he came out of reach of it, but they redirected to Paul's chest and stomach, carefully avoiding Paul's wound until he got low enough to grab and sink the hard length down his throat.
Loki's breath is hot along his chest, and Paul looks at him with nothing but lust and desire, eyes glassy from want as he watches those too blue eyes sink lower. Paul shifts, lips parted as he widens his legs for Loki, captivated as the other gets low enough.
Those sinful lips touch his cock and Paul takes a hand to run down the other's undercut, carding into Loki's hair as the other's wet, hot mouth sends pleasure coursing through him.
"Loki," he breathes, and that hand on Loki's hair slips down to gently touch the side of the other's face as best as he can, a far cry from the brutally desperate way he'd handled the other when they first reunited.
It was just as much about caving to his own whorish and desperately needy desires as it was about pleasing Paul, one fed the other without a hitch, an unbroken circuit of Loki not knowing any other way to prove how he felt. It had been agony to not reach out and touch him at the garage, to not be better equipped to thank Paul for hustling for him, to appreciate him for it.
He moans as he bobs, face leaning into Paul's palm - Loki may have been pushing him around, but their dynamic was what it was. All Paul had to do was assert himself and Loki would fall into line. As it was, he worked his pants open, cock already throbbing and straining against his boxers as soon as the trousers fell away. It also didn't escape his notice that they were going to have to be careful with that window there.
His aim was not to get Paul off, not yet, not like this, not unless Paul wanted, but to get to watch Paul's face and enjoy the feeling of Paul fucking his throat, hand idly stroking himself through his boxers before he buries the Driver as far as possible, gagging a little on the thickness and abuse, and pulling off with a gasping breath. He didn't mind the mess of spit and slick - a good blowjob wasn't good without it.
Paul knows where Loki's other hand is going, can see it in the slight curve of the other's shoulder, and fuck if that does't send shivers down his spine. Loki's getting off on doing this to him. Loki's touching him, his cock so deep in his mouth he gags--the sound makes his legs widen with a murmur of approval--and he likes it so much he has to touch himself.
Loki's mouth feels wet; warm velvet as he willingly pushes himself to swallow all of Paul. The blond exhales, breath shaky as the hand on Loki's jaw presses hard before sliding up that skull, past the short undercut to grab a fistful of his flame's beautiful long hair. He pulls just hard enough to cause a little jolt of pain but not enough to have the other ease up.
"Let's see how good you can be," he murmurs, hand forcefully keeping Loki in place as he begins to move his hips.
God that sound, that little murmur of Paul's lewd approval was everything, and Loki's grip around himself changes from idle to plying himself out of his boxers. He can't help but hum again as Paul's hand moves over and up into his hair, watery eyes locked on those stunning blues in dutiful challenge. He couldn't keep them up, not with the way Paul was positioning him, not with the way that Paul was fucking his mouth.
Loki kept his mouth open, gasping little breaths of air that were wetly cut off as Paul knocked against the top of his throat. It was just as heady as Paul's hand around his throat, an extension of that that he fully embraces as his hand moves from his cock to fist onto Paul's pants like an anchor. He wanted it, all of it, whatever Paul wanted to do to him. The only person he could really give it all over to, the only way he could really give it all over.
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Paul thinks that this is what could actually make him happy. Not Irene. It had never been Irene, Irene had just been what he thought he wanted, something he knew he could never obtain. He doesn't have to 'obtain' Loki, though. Loki is his. He's Loki's. They're all consuming.
That lock clicks in a way that Paul always finds satisfying, but not as satisfying as Loki moving toward him with intent. The driver meets him halfway and lifts one grease stained hand to the side of his compass' face to pull him closer into a desperate, wanting kiss, the other hand shifting to the small of Loki's back to press in close, ruining one of those beautifully starched white shirts. Paul doesn't care. He thinks Loki doesn't, either, tongue pushing past the other's teeth in a fit of passion, tasting him completely.
no subject
Loki's mouth plys open at the first hint, tongue eager to wrestle with Paul's, to taste and be tasted. It didn't matter that their teeth clinked a little here and there as he pushes him back. He couldn't tell if they'd hit surface or if he'd just stopped but he manages to unfist his hands briefly and long enough to tear his winter jacket off to be abandoned on the floor. His hands shift, scrambling down to get up under Paul's shirt, greedy for a feel of him before they're moving towards his jeans, fingers a little stumbling but insistent.
This was how he had wanted to say goodbye to Paul, wanted to be the way he said hello or 'hey pass me the remote'. They weren't starry eyed kids anymore, (if they were ever starry eyed, which Loki doubts), this wasn't hormones and exploration or playacting house when they got the chance. His everything needed the quiet man, now, tomorrow, next week. The rest of his life if he could manage.
no subject
Paul's knees hit the couch and he drops the hand on Loki's back to help him with his jeans, already rock hard, already wanting for every aspect of Loki he can have. He breathes out, full of need and pulls back only to kiss along that square, strong jaw, teeth scraping at the day's stubble as he tear at Loki's shirt. The buttons pop off with the strength of Paul's desire and it's a mere fraction of a second before those lips are on the other's clavicle like they were Loki's jaw only seconds before.
no subject
As soon as they were shirtless, Loki shoves Paul back into the couch, following quickly after with his own as he kisses him again, weight propped on one hand on the back of the couch to keep him from falling fully into Paul's chest and allowing him the ability to more slowly sink down to his knees. The kiss broke when he came out of reach of it, but they redirected to Paul's chest and stomach, carefully avoiding Paul's wound until he got low enough to grab and sink the hard length down his throat.
no subject
Those sinful lips touch his cock and Paul takes a hand to run down the other's undercut, carding into Loki's hair as the other's wet, hot mouth sends pleasure coursing through him.
"Loki," he breathes, and that hand on Loki's hair slips down to gently touch the side of the other's face as best as he can, a far cry from the brutally desperate way he'd handled the other when they first reunited.
no subject
He moans as he bobs, face leaning into Paul's palm - Loki may have been pushing him around, but their dynamic was what it was. All Paul had to do was assert himself and Loki would fall into line. As it was, he worked his pants open, cock already throbbing and straining against his boxers as soon as the trousers fell away. It also didn't escape his notice that they were going to have to be careful with that window there.
His aim was not to get Paul off, not yet, not like this, not unless Paul wanted, but to get to watch Paul's face and enjoy the feeling of Paul fucking his throat, hand idly stroking himself through his boxers before he buries the Driver as far as possible, gagging a little on the thickness and abuse, and pulling off with a gasping breath. He didn't mind the mess of spit and slick - a good blowjob wasn't good without it.
no subject
Loki's mouth feels wet; warm velvet as he willingly pushes himself to swallow all of Paul. The blond exhales, breath shaky as the hand on Loki's jaw presses hard before sliding up that skull, past the short undercut to grab a fistful of his flame's beautiful long hair. He pulls just hard enough to cause a little jolt of pain but not enough to have the other ease up.
"Let's see how good you can be," he murmurs, hand forcefully keeping Loki in place as he begins to move his hips.
no subject
Loki kept his mouth open, gasping little breaths of air that were wetly cut off as Paul knocked against the top of his throat. It was just as heady as Paul's hand around his throat, an extension of that that he fully embraces as his hand moves from his cock to fist onto Paul's pants like an anchor. He wanted it, all of it, whatever Paul wanted to do to him. The only person he could really give it all over to, the only way he could really give it all over.