For a moment, Marcus thinks Midnighter means that he wants Marcus to come over, and Marcus hesitates: he needs to be on his way soon enough, if he goes over he'll want to stay the night, and...
And that's not what Midnighter is asking for, is it. He blinks, and then, aloud, he says, "Jesus Christ," and throws his arm over his eyes. Jesus Christ, he's an idiot. Of course Midnighter wants some quid-pro-quo, there's an element of exchange here he hadn't anticipated purely because — hell, who'd want pictures of him?
He's half hard in his jeans from the pictures, from the idea of fucking Midnighter, from the idea of taking pictures of himself. And there's still a complicated, messy feeling in his chest: he wants more than this, trading pictures like teenagers, but also isn't it nice, shouldn't he be grateful for it even when it's not perfect?
I don't know what you want
True enough, in all regards. But another coward's response. Marcus huffs and gnaws his lip and — fine. He'll at least try. His fingers are trembling a little on the phone as he flicks to the camera, and he...tries. Grips himself through his jeans, tries not to think about what he's doing as he takes a few pictures of the shape of his cock through the denim and then...doesn't send them.
Defeated, he decides to just throw down the phone and wait.
no subject
And that's not what Midnighter is asking for, is it. He blinks, and then, aloud, he says, "Jesus Christ," and throws his arm over his eyes. Jesus Christ, he's an idiot. Of course Midnighter wants some quid-pro-quo, there's an element of exchange here he hadn't anticipated purely because — hell, who'd want pictures of him?
He's half hard in his jeans from the pictures, from the idea of fucking Midnighter, from the idea of taking pictures of himself. And there's still a complicated, messy feeling in his chest: he wants more than this, trading pictures like teenagers, but also isn't it nice, shouldn't he be grateful for it even when it's not perfect?
I don't know what you want
True enough, in all regards. But another coward's response. Marcus huffs and gnaws his lip and — fine. He'll at least try. His fingers are trembling a little on the phone as he flicks to the camera, and he...tries. Grips himself through his jeans, tries not to think about what he's doing as he takes a few pictures of the shape of his cock through the denim and then...doesn't send them.
Defeated, he decides to just throw down the phone and wait.