[ Another memory spared; he won't remember how likely it is that he ended up on his back because of how severely he tripped stepping out of his trousers.
This, though - the sight before him - stays. Hazy in his morning recollection, but there all the same; his love silhouetted in soft evening firelight, hair tousled, on his knees, hovering just above his hard dick, Gale's own bouncing as he settles into his position on his lap. Godfrey's broad and warm hand on his waist. The hot hint of colour he can see in what little light seeps through the fabric walls of the tent, sprayed across his cheeks, his collar.
Here is where, in his right mind, Godfrey might pause to think of logistical needs. The strain one might go through in this position, for instance, or the need for oil. The close proximity of murmuring voices and footsteps. The likelihood that they may be overheard.
None of these thoughts cross his mind. He's asked to come closer, and Godfrey, propping himself up on his elbow, pushes himself a little further. He pushes his palm into the ground beneath the pillows and runs his hand across the curve of his spine, pulls his face against his chest. A sigh is pushed roughly from him.
So are words, if one can make out the muttering he smears against the middle of his chest; I love you. ]
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This, though - the sight before him - stays. Hazy in his morning recollection, but there all the same; his love silhouetted in soft evening firelight, hair tousled, on his knees, hovering just above his hard dick, Gale's own bouncing as he settles into his position on his lap. Godfrey's broad and warm hand on his waist. The hot hint of colour he can see in what little light seeps through the fabric walls of the tent, sprayed across his cheeks, his collar.
Here is where, in his right mind, Godfrey might pause to think of logistical needs. The strain one might go through in this position, for instance, or the need for oil. The close proximity of murmuring voices and footsteps. The likelihood that they may be overheard.
None of these thoughts cross his mind. He's asked to come closer, and Godfrey, propping himself up on his elbow, pushes himself a little further. He pushes his palm into the ground beneath the pillows and runs his hand across the curve of his spine, pulls his face against his chest. A sigh is pushed roughly from him.
So are words, if one can make out the muttering he smears against the middle of his chest; I love you. ]