Oh hey, and that puts him at a very practical height--
"Good. That- that's good." Though he sounds a little stunned, there's no doubt in Arthur's mind about what to do. The waistband of Crichton's bottoms is elasticated and soft, made of flannel or something like it; Arthur pulls them down, hands sliding over Crichton's hips. There's a protrusion that the waistband gets caught on and then pops over on its journey down, and his imagination does all sorts of things with that. His breathing is shallow.
Holy shit. Holy shit, he's really doing this. There's the gentle sound of fabric piling on the floor, and the welcome smell of Crichton, stronger now. He's halfway fascinated and halfway intimidated by the idea of what might be there if he tilted his head forward.
"Happy Christmas to me," he jokes mildly. It is a very stupid joke.
oh and a warning for nsfw for the sake of any readers huh
"Good. That- that's good." Though he sounds a little stunned, there's no doubt in Arthur's mind about what to do. The waistband of Crichton's bottoms is elasticated and soft, made of flannel or something like it; Arthur pulls them down, hands sliding over Crichton's hips. There's a protrusion that the waistband gets caught on and then pops over on its journey down, and his imagination does all sorts of things with that. His breathing is shallow.
Holy shit. Holy shit, he's really doing this. There's the gentle sound of fabric piling on the floor, and the welcome smell of Crichton, stronger now. He's halfway fascinated and halfway intimidated by the idea of what might be there if he tilted his head forward.
"Happy Christmas to me," he jokes mildly. It is a very stupid joke.