Ah-- ( scott's torn between pleased little sounds and laughter, his fingers lightly brushing at the hair on the back of matt's neck. this is what he meant precisely about the whole mouthy situation, but he can't say he hates it. not when his leg is tightening a little around matt's waist, and his stomach is going tight with both the happiest little emotion and that tell-tale fire of want. ) God damn it.

( his laughter is cut short by the smallest hitch in breath when matt's mouth lands on some spot in his neck, and scott's going to berate himself for it later, but his head tilts in some simple, small angle as the hand on matt's back curls its fingers in. )

I'm--uh, pretty sure I just taste like salt. Or sweat or-- ( oh, christ, scott is so happy whenever matt doesn't shave. ) --d-dirt.

( his chest rises and falls in as steady a way he can manage, but his heartbeat is alive and quick and powerful, and his blood pumps and throbs in his veins. )

Mm, you feel nicer than me...