[Harry takes a long, lecherous look up and down the length of Rafe as he throws his head back and takes a deep pull straight from the bottle. He's all clean sharp lines, the curve of his neck so sharp he could cut himself. He'd love nothing more than to fuck it up, mark it up with red little spots like footprints in fresh snow. It's such a shame he fights so fiercely to be in charge, because he would look lovely on his knees, desperate and begging.
For a brief moment, that thought leads to another one, another time. Another man.
As quickly as it had come on, Harry shakes the thought off and puts it aside in a little box to never open again. The past is the past, and this is now.
This, being the bottle Harry is suddenly pulling from his boss' hands to take a swig himself.]
no subject
For a brief moment, that thought leads to another one, another time. Another man.
As quickly as it had come on, Harry shakes the thought off and puts it aside in a little box to never open again. The past is the past, and this is now.
This, being the bottle Harry is suddenly pulling from his boss' hands to take a swig himself.]