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Yes- [ it's breathless, acknowledgment and pleasure and acquiescence. his fingers dig into william's hips for a moment as thomas moves to stand, a little slow on account of his knees-- not as bad as they once were, not by a long stretch, but his body has not reverted back to its early twenties. and then he is close and he finds that he wants, needs to kiss william before he can even think to move out of the shower and toward the bed.

his own aching desire is almost distant, but anticipation makes it all the more pressing. ]

[This is an acceptable distraction from the immediacy of "now." His fingers lift, wet, perhaps sticky, to curl against the back of Thomas's neck for a heartbeat, clinging gently to the kiss.

It's wonderful, having something sweet and real in the middle of all this heat and need.

It's also wonderful, after a moment, to nip at the other man's lower lip and start to push them forward.]

[ thomas shivers a little-- from the kiss, from the feel of william's fingers curling over his neck, most certainly from william's teeth against his lower lips.

for a moment, thomas fumbles blindly toward getting out of the shower. in the end, in the interest of not breaking any bones, he finds himself breaking the kiss to actually look at where he's going, to grab at a towel and then another one to hand to william.

(if he uses the towel in his hands not to dry himself off, but to dab at william's skin, well. surely, that is only proper and thus needs no explanation or forgiveness.) ]

[He has to laugh, soft and utterly pleased as the towel he's rubbing over his own hair is joined by the one Thomas has kept hold of. There's something almost absurd about the moment--being allowed the time and space to fumble between fits of passion with a man he genuinely adores, being caught in the sort of quiet intimacy he'd never have dared to dream of properly reaching with anyone who might have been deemed suited to be his spouse.

His own towel is slightly damp as he swats it lightly at the other man's chest, still laughing with complete abandon.] We'll never make it, at this rate.

[But they have time for that as well. They have time to linger here in quiet appreciation without rushing to steal a few moments longer. It sends a painful joy straight to the pit of William's stomach, towel slung briefly over his own shoulder so his fingers can be used to catch Thomas's chin for another soft kiss.]

[ it's absurd, maybe, and thomas is so hard, has been for so long now that he'd be amazed if any blood was left in his brain at all. maybe that explains some of the fumbling. maybe it's absurd, but it's also —it's joyful. it's making william laugh, swatting his towel and thomas's chest, eyes crinkling.

thomas hasn't had that in so long. he's not sure he's ever had that, this uncomplicated joy interrupting the focus of desire.

and then william is kissing him again and thomas sighs into it, desire taking the lead again as he presses close and is reminded of how desperately hard he is when his hips come into contact with william's thigh.

his moan might be a little absurd, too, startlingly loud in the kiss, but he's let most if not all his defenses down around william and so it doesn't get swallowed in time. ]

We're probably dry enough, [ he manages after a moment. ]

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