I Get Jealous

[John Murphy]

Leave him to what? For a moment he felt willing to go along with that, like it was necessary somehow. Was that what people did, make a decision and then graciously give each other space as if it took a set time to take effect? A certain way to behave now they were... something. Were there rules now, about respect and boundaries and consideration? There was no doubt those things held importance within the relationship that had sprung up between them, but polite formality as this suddenly felt to be? This wasn't them, and perhaps it never would be. 

The claim made official hadn't dampened any desire. If anything, it had stoked the flame, invited a freedom that was otherwise subdued to some extent at least, though it had always threatened to break out. Space was the very last thing Murphy wanted at this moment. Space was lacking confirmation, even if the words exchanged along with the following soft silence and shared looks had been enough, to part now would seem to leave them hovering somehow. That wouldn't do. 

With a shift of his weight Murphy headed back towards with intent, nudging Bellamy back a little way with the momentum of his approach and finally reclaiming the other's lips in an eager kiss. The contact was charged, as it always had been with them. Violent or amorous, it had never been slight, always intense in one way or another. But now it was almost urgent as the need raced through him, both hands already snaking up beneath Bellamy's shirt and gathering the fabric as they moved. With all the fervor of a silent 'stay'.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy wasn't entirely certain if Murphy wanted his space, or preferred him to stay. He supposed that was part of all this, getting to know each other on this new intimate level. It had been the physical that the two embraced, not the emotional. Not yet. But based on this conversation, Bellamy assumed that was where it was leading. Being together, in every sense of the word. Murphy answered the older male's unspoken question when he approached him, pressing his lips against his own in a fervent embrace. Bellamy immediately reacted with the same enthusiasm, eager for the contact.

Eager to taste, touch, and feel Murphy with this newly established commitment they had just made to one another. Was that how it was possible that the kiss felt even more incredible than it usually did? Bellamy felt John's hands slip under Bellamy's shirt, and the former co leader desperately wanted it off. But not as much as he wanted Murphy's off. His hands gripped the bottom of the younger male's shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side.

He took advantage of the broken contact of their lips, not wanting to prolong it or have it interrupted again, so he proceeded to pull off his own shirt as well, as careless with it as he was with Murphy's. Bellamy's lips quickly went back to Murphy's, coaxing his mouth open with his own, starting the dance, the battle of playful dominance, as he slipped his tongue inside his mouth. His hand went to the back of his head, his fingers running through his straighter locks, keeping a firm hold of it so not to break the kiss. The fact that it had been Murphy to initiate it . . . made the entire thing even more arousing for Bellamy.

[John Murphy]

There was his confirmation, though by this point is wasn't so much as necessary but rather craved, to seal and somehow etch their commitment on each other with a kiss. More than that, with every part of them if Murphy could have it his way. A nonessential affirmation of the emotional with the physical. An act that may have happened anyway even as they'd argued regardless of the severity of their dispute, though it would have lacked the thrill of this new revelation between them. Instead, everything was heightened. It seemed Bellamy shared the intention, with the contact now broken and Murphy raising his arms as the other man tugged off his shirt, followed by his own.

Thankful for the recapturing of the kiss now quelling a moment's impatience at the loss of touch, Murphy once again pressed in as Bellamy did. Deepening the kiss and tongue searching, as if he could seek out a taste of the earlier words and revel in the flavor, swallow up their memory to keep it a part of him. It was special. Despite an insistent part of him that begged for retreat, as if in warning of inevitable calamity should he hold on. To Bellamy, to the chance they'd given each other. But it was too late, he had already taken the step and grasped a hold, dubiously but tenaciously. He wasn't letting go.  

At least that's how it felt right now, their actions mirroring his state of mind as his hands were swiftly on Bellamy again. Roaming up along his sides before he pressed himself to the other, the warm slip of skin on skin helping to satisfy the need to be so close. Prompting a yet more ardent kiss paused only briefly with a soft bite to the other man's lip, and soon reclaimed.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Murphy's hands moving over him, left a trail of warmth, a heat that coursed through his entire body. Further intensified when the skin of their bare upper bodies were touching, pressed together. Bellamy let out a short breath when he felt the light bite on his lip, enjoying the sensation. Wanting more of it. Wanting to experience Murphy in a way that this intimacy allowed them to. It felt stronger than ever before, which left Bellamy craving it more than ever. Needing it.

That emotional dependency wasn't safe . . . and yet, he wanted to risk it again, if it meant he could be with the man before him. Bellamy's hand moved to Murphy's cheek, his thumb caressing over the soft skin. The older male felt a strange conflict of wanting to succumb to the intensity of all he felt right now, yet wanting to be slow and build up the moment all the same. An interesting juxtaposition. One that he didn't always experience because . . . well, he had never been committed to a single person.

Bellamy slowly pulled from Murphy's lips, though didn't move far as he kissed along the male's cheek, to his neck, enjoying the taste of the strong muscles of it. He teased the skin of it between his teeth, before moving to Murphy's ear. He also took the opportunity to catch his breath, to let the moment properly absorb in his mind. This was far more than just anything physical. This in a way, bound the commitment they had made to one another today.

While neither of them were men of overly elaborate words when it came to their feelings and affairs of the heart . . . enough had been said for both of them to know that. Bellamy wanted to appreciate it. Wanted to acknowledge it. And where words failed him in doing so, perhaps actions would help. "Let's move this to the bed," he spoke in a deep whispered voice, audible by the fact that his lips were against Murphy's ears. Once saying it, he nipped his earlobe playfully.

[John Murphy]

How was it that this, not a first time for such contact, could still feel new and yet offer soothing familiarity both at once? The combination was exhilarating, now he'd appeased the need to feel something deeper that had already entwined itself with his other needs some time ago. Now realized, now accepted, it was near to overwhelming. An abrupt urge to push the mutual embrace to more hungry grasping was tempered by the gentle touch to his cheek. 

Chased with a kiss... another and another. A trail from lips to cheek to neck. The nip of teeth coaxed a tilt of his head, skin pulled taut beneath the other's lips in silent appreciation and a hope of more. Indulging in this rare affection he felt fixed where he stood, swaying faintly as Bellamy moved with the heat of his mouth arousing a desire to react. The longing to do so in happy conflict with the temptation to let the other continue a while longer without interference. 

The decision to move it along was made for him and he readily obliged. Stilling at the whispered words, he delayed only long enough for the nip at his ear along with the suggestion to prompt a grin. Barely a moment more and he leaned away, retreating as he locked his gaze on Bellamy. Two fingers hooked into the front of the other man's pants to tug him along as Murphy backed up towards the bed, although he was already making quick work of the fastening as they moved.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Murphy's complied with Bellamy's suggestion . . . or perhaps urging was a better word to describe it. When his finger hooked into his pants, the close proximity of it to his thickening arousal, left him further aching for the man before him. Bellamy's hands went to Murphy's shoulders, one of them skimming up and down his arm, caressing the muscles of it, his eyes casually scanning over his attractive upper body, forcing out any lingering gaze on the scars that marked them. Each scar had a story, and Bellamy knew that he was responsible for many of them. But he didn't wish to let it dampen the moment.

He instead, allowed the lust he felt for his partner to over power the guilt . . . at least on the surface. Besides, it was far easier to focus on the intimacy right now, especially with Murphy unfastening his pants which were undone by the time they reached the bed . . . which wasn't a far distance at all. The eagerness to do the same for Murphy was quite strong. His hands still on his shoulder, gently pushed down on Murphy so that he was seated in an upright position on the bed, his feet still on the ground.

Bellamy kneeled in front of him, his hands moving to the front of his pants to open them. Not needing to look, he leaned forward to capture John's lips once again, sucking on his bottom for a moment until he finally felt him free of his pants. He gently nudged Murphy's legs apart only enough so that Bellamy could properly kneel between them. His hand wrapped around Murphy's member, breathing into the kiss at his fullness.

[John Murphy]

Urged to sit, Murphy intended on turning his attention back to unclothing Bellamy, his pants undone as they were and the chance to touch and taste so close. Eager temptation bringing Murphy's hands up ready to push lower and expose, though his actions were interrupted. There was no complaint, with his partner now dropping to kneel before him, another sight the younger male loved to see. The pleasure lacking any smug victory but rather a delight in the anticipation, building swiftly now as his gaze fell to Bellamy's hands working the fastening of his pants until the kiss distracted him.  

It was as welcome as every touch was at this moment, overwhelming with the intensity of all that had led here and yet not enough. At once gratifying his appetite for the other only to rouse his yearning beyond reach yet again. Each caress of lips and trail of fingertips inciting a deeper hunger that perhaps Bellamy would one day sate but for now, it seemed to stretch out unceasing. Making the contact, the closeness, all the more coveted. 

Obliging the nudge between his legs to accommodate, he claimed a hold on Bellamy's hair in possessive affection, a soft hum escaping amid the kiss once Murphy felt his partner's hand curl around him, already aching for motion. His free hand resting briefly on Bellamy's shoulder soon wandered to touch the other's neck, absently tracing ghosts of their past as his fingers ran a line around to the front, the pad of his thumb trailing another down to the soft dip of his throat. Finally abandoning to fall lower with a light grasp around Bellamy's wrist in a hushed request for movement.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Every sound. Every touch. Every hold. Sensational. There was no other way to describe it. The depth to these actions surpassed any mere physical enjoyment. Bellamy had bedded many others, and yet it was never like this. Never to this magnitude of pleasure and intensity. He knew it was because of his growing feelings for Murphy. To be able to call him his . . . what, boyfriend? The term sounded almost too minimal for what they had. But then, why label it? Why was there a need to when there was now a mutual understanding between them; a confirmed committment. Bellamy relished in the feeling of Murphy's hands in his hair, his fingers trailing over his skin, agnoizingly slowly . . . leaving a path of fire from the burning need he felt consumed his being. He took the opportunity to just bask in it, until he felt Murphy's hand wrap around Bellamy's wrist, a non verbal urge to tend to him . . . something Bellamy did not even need to consider.

Bellamy's lips went from Murphy's, but not before tugging his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, before he kissed along his jawline. Simultaneously, Bellamy's hand began to move over Murphy. A groan of pleasure -- though Bellamy was technically doing the pleasuring -- fell from deep within his throat. Perhaps it was just due to all the younger male made him feel. Whatever the cause, it was an indication of his own enjoyment. His hand, firmly gripped over Murphy's swelled member moved in long strokes.

His hand quickened pace a little, gliding over his impressive length. Bellamy made sure not to finish him though. He wanted to taste him. With that determination in mind, Bellamy gently pushed Murphy back so that his upper body was against the bed, his lower still over the side of the bed. Bellamy retracted his hand, but did not leave him untended long enough for his arousal to ebb away. Almost immediately, Bellamy's mouth took the place of his hand, sucking over him, his hand dropping to the lower sacs of skin, massaging it in his hand. His head bopped, another groan erupting from him, causing a vibration that only made him move over him more purposefully. Because . . . damn, he tasted good.

[John Murphy]

The movement was met with a moan of approval, in chorus with Bellamy's. The sound escaping the other man though Murphy was offering no intimate touch in return, only worked to stoke his arousal, evidenced with a brief shift where he sat with a jut of his hips to push into Bellamy's hand. His partner was doing perfectly well without the assistance, yet the firm caress prompted another, with Murphy's palms now pressed to the bed for leverage until Bellamy abandoned the attention below and pushed him back. 

Willingly, Murphy lay back without resistance tempted to pull the other man with him, but Bellamy was swift to resume. The delicious heat of his mouth coaxing the surging warmth low in Murphy's stomach to twist in pleasure, so that a word came near to breaking free. An exhale to breath out merely the first syllable, but the younger male bit down hard on his lip before he could form the other's name. For what reason, he couldn't quite decide. But insecurity lingered to plant doubts and warnings, that despite what he had given of himself, somehow a simple word would threaten to give it all to Bellamy. 

He wanted to... with any crooked reasoning otherwise sweeping back with every slide of Bellamy's lips around him. The groan from his partner drew one in return as Murphy's mouth fell open once again, fingers curling to grasp at the bed as his hips bucked upward. Once he settled back to the bed his hands were at his pants, already low but attempting to push them lower still intent to remove, hindered in the position but loathe to halt the pace. He resigned to try to kick off his boots until Bellamy had him arching up once more, only for Murphy to abruptly sit up. 

The reluctance to ease his partner's mouth away, aching for it once he did, yielded to the desire to hold on a while longer. To take a taste in return. Once Bellamy leaned back he was urged to stand, Murphy encouraging him to straighten up before his hands slid down to finally expose. One languid trail of his tongue along and he closed his lips around. Slow to slide down as if to appreciate every inch, working on taking it all until a soft wet choke marked the victory. A moment or two to enjoy and he pulled back and away to gasp a breath, reclaiming once more as he settled into a steady rhythm.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

He felt so good. Despite the fact that Bellay was currently doing the pleasuring, it was impossible to deny the arousing affect it was having on the older male. His hand almost fell down to his own center, to move it along him in sync with his mouth . . . but he somehow managed to restrain himself. Instead, his attentions were completely focused on Murphy. He loved exploring him like this. Learning what he liked, how he liked it. What he could do to intensify the pleasure. Such things were always better discovered through the experience, rather than asked.

It was a frequency in all of Bellamy's couplings . . . but never to the extent that it had been with Murphy. No. What he felt for him ran far deeper, and with that, came his desire -- his need -- to grant his partner the maximum. To give him all he could possibly offer. To make him feel as if he wasn't lacking. While these concepts existed outside of their physical relations, Bellamy was fixating on the current application of them. His hand continued to massage his lower sac, mouth accommodating his size as he arched into him. He head bopped over his member, sucking in more of what he could, his tongue leaving a slick trail over him. Bellamy's actions were determined, filled with purpose to achieve the goal of Murphy's relief. Craving the taste of him.

But it abruptly was brought to a halt as Murphy sat up, urged Bellamy to a stand and reversed the roles. The moment he felt his lips on his own already hardened member, Bellamy sharply inhaled. His hand immediately went to the back of his partner's head, fisting a handful of his hair in desperate need. Bellamy's own head fell back, feeling the strong absence of any sort of support to lean against, almost fearing that his knees would weaken from what Murphy was doing to him. The older male's chest heaved, swallowing as he his companion's skilled mouth moved over him, taking in as much him as he could which . . . he was doing remarkably well. But then, Murphy had never been lacking in that sort of skill, as evidenced by thier first time together.

A shaky breath fell from Bellamy, before a groan of pleasure accompanied it. His breathing hitched, chesting heaving, as his eyes remained closed, his hand moving along with Murphy's head in sheer encouragement. The sudden need to restrain himself entered his mind . . . just as it had with Murphy. How could it be fair to deprive Murphy of the chance to come, and allow himself to bask in the pleasures that it brought forth? It practically took every bit of strength and self control in Bellamy to pull Murphy's head back from where he gripped him, in order to extract himself from his mouth. But the action was not meant to totally deprive themselves.

Instead, Bellamy lowered himself and crashed his lips against Murphy's in a ravenous kiss, hungry, fervent. He proceeded to lean forward, hastily pushing him back on the the bed so that Murphy was laying against it, Bellamy on top of him. He pushed his tongue into his mouth with the same zeal they had each other's members. Swiftly, their positions were altered as Bellamy's hands moved to Murphy's hips to turn them, so that the younger male was now on top as Bellamy lay on his back, his mouth still moving against his partners. Murphy's lowered pants, allowed Bellamy's hand to roam over him.

Only this time, it wasn't the frontal region that he focused on. Instead, he appreciated the curves of his well formed behind, running his hand over one side of his cheek, massaging it in his palm. Bellamy eased out of the kiss, but kept his lips against John's, speaking against them. "I want you, Murphy." His finger skimmed along the creased opening between his cheeks. He was no longer afraid of making such an admittance. His voice was deeper than it's usual tone due to all the man made him feel. All that he made him want. His voice was deeper than it's usual tone due to all the man made him feel. He wanted him. For the moments that their bodies were joined, where the times where Bellamy finally felt whole.

[John Murphy]

He was losing himself in the rhythmic slip and slide, in and out, eyes closing as Bellamy urged on with his fingers curled tight in Murphy's hair. Assuring and wholly arousing to have the other essentially guiding, needless but pleasing nonetheless. The restriction of it was light, lacking the prompt for an irrational or otherwise reaction to practically being held in place. Somehow, it felt almost secure. Murphy brought his hands around to curve at the backs of Bellamy's thighs in a bid to loosely hold the other put, until the pull back of his head focused Murphy's attention upward. 

A run of his tongue between his lips was interrupted by the eager kiss, with Murphy meeting with equal urgency even as he was pushed back down to the bed. The abrupt flip of their positions drew a brief hum against Bellamy's lips in amusement, the younger male's hips shifting a fraction in search of a brush against his partner. Once Bellamy spoke, he stilled before offering a smirk in triumph at the admission while he enjoyed the satisfaction that came from such a confession, whether or not it had already been clear. Though his expression eased into one of true appreciation, of momentary awkward happiness soon tempered by a lazy grin. To hear Bellamy say so, no matter what had already transpired between them in evidence of the fact, was another step. Frightening and exhilarating.  

As much as he took the words to heart, Murphy couldn't resist a playful counter. "Yeah?" Balance adjusted, he slid a hand down to grab at Bellamy's thigh sliding his hand beneath and higher, as much as he could considering their position, to grab and squeeze. "Maybe I want you first." Despite his suggestion he pulled back, nudging his way from the other's hold to retreat from the bed and lose the last of his clothing. Wasting no time he climbed again over Bellamy, lingering partway to dip and close his mouth over the other once more, one slide of his lips and he withdrew to again settle in a straddle. 

Too keen, perhaps. The thought crossed his mind, those same doubts that reared up at every turn, that maybe he should curb and control himself instead of this wayward exposure of his cravings. But he was too far gone, too swept up in the rousing presence that was Bellamy. Now... his? It was possible though he was still reluctant to claim it out loud and barely in secret, as if declaring it himself would shatter it all. At least these acts were those in which they could more easily brush away the reservations, inhibitions slipping away as lust bloomed. Murphy positioned himself precariously close but halted there, that familiar smirk returning as he edged away again.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Murphy brushing against Bellamy just intensified his already painfully growing ache for the younger male. But then again, Murphy probably was well aware of that. The damn tease that he was. That he could be. Yet, Bellamy enjoyed it. Far more than any other playfulness he had encountered during such physical activities. With Murphy, everything felt different. In the best way possible. Even the verbal banter was enough to bring a smirk of amusement to Bellamy's gaze; a breathy scoff of mockery. Hell he would have said more but Murphy's hands were skimming along his thigh, causing the former leader to let out a heavy exhalation of both pleasure and need. Perhaps more need than anything else though. "So do something about it," he teased right back, forcing the words out. Fighting to remain coherent despite the overwhelming desire he had for his partner. Withdrawing his mouth from him had left him on edge; in need.

Unwilling to descend unfulfilled. Murphy's words had touched Bellamy though, filled his body with a warmth that went deeper than the pure physical. To be wanted by someone. No, to be wanted by Murphy. Because what they had, wasn't just physical. It was emotional. And hearing of that mutual desire . . . meant more to Bellamy than he was capable of expressing. As if it hadn't been enough, Murphy further teased him, first by removing the last article of clothing -- a sight that Bellamy watched intently as his eyes lingered over his partner's alluring and desirable body -- before Murphy's mouth returned to his member, in an all too swift motion. As if to further taunt him. It caused a groan of pleasure, of need. Of . . . everything Murphy. Bellamy's head pressed into the bed before looking up at Murphy, the older male's hand starting to move up his thigh to caress his skin. He watched in anticipation as John appeared to dip down lower, only to move away. It elicited a playful glare from the older male as he was no longer able to idly watch any longer.

He once again shifted their positions, this time, when turning them over, moving Murphy so that the younger of the two was on his stomach on the bed, while Bellamy was over him, his front pressed against Murphy's back. Bellamy's hand skimmed over his well formed behind, massaging the skin of a cheek as he did before while his lips kissing along the back of Murphy's shoulder, teasing the skin between his teeth. "You're a bit too slow to show it," Bellamy teased him between each caress of his mouth against Murphy's skin. Bellamy was whatever his partner needed of him -- a commonality despite who he was coupled with. But with Murphy, he strove to be a balance for his partner. Right now, it was about the playful competition, the presumed defeat with Bellamy now resting over him. The older male's lips pressed against Murphy's ear. "But maybe if you tell me how much, I'll change my mind." he continued to tease, sucking his earlobe in his mouth before nipping it.

[John Murphy]

Despite a thought to fight the shift in position if only to provoke playful forcing, he'd turned without resistance and half expected Bellamy to go further in claiming the advantage. But the lingering wasn't a surprise nor unwelcome, the other's front pressed flush to Murphy's back serving as both a comfort and a thrill at the proximity, bringing him to tense a little in excited anticipation. He soon eased again, settling even more once the other man began to set kisses to his shoulder, prompting a smirk of satifaction as Murphy let his eyes close. Savoring the warm touch. 

Bellamy's words along with the nip at his ear teased a broader grin, a challenge offered now for sure. And so tempting to urge their actions along, Murphy already pressed hard to the bed as it was and the current position not allowing for much if Bellamy was waiting on him to make a move from here. "Slow?" He brought his arms down, palms sliding over the sheet until they reached near his middle, pushing up as much as he could with Bellamy still laying atop to try to lift, if only enough to suggestively angle his hips back towards. Only to cede and collapse back to the bed, arms crossing up in front of him so he could rest his chin as if comfortably settling there for a while. "Maybe you're just impatient. You should probably get that under control, so... "

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

The teasing banter was always something rather welcome. It helped reinforce the level of intimacy the two of them had reached -- even prior to today's commitment to one another. It just felt, comfortable. Normal. As if they had known each other for so long. Which, he supposed in regards to others he did know Murphy longer than several on the Ground . . . but they had spent a significant time apart. Yet, being together in this way felt nothing but natural. Bellamy felt his arousal thicken at Murphy's actions, causing his partner's back side to press against his sensitive region.

Bellamy nipped Murphy's neck in response, his teasing words coercing a smirk to appear on the older male's features. "And maybe you just need more training," he teased back, playfully implying that Murphy wasn't able to overpower him. It was of course just that: teasing. All in good humor of course. Bellamy tilted his head to the side, kissing the corner of Murphy's lips for a few moments before he slightly raised himself, only to get in a better position. He moistened his hand before lowering it to his member, already slick due to Murphy's earlier actions.

"You want me to be slower?" He continued to tease, referencing his remark about getting his impatience under control. Bellamy lowered his head once again, pressing it against Murphy's ear as one hand guided himself to his partner's opening, his other palm pressed against the bed to brace him up. "Cause I can go slow," he said, almost tauntingly as he slowly began to push himself inside of Murphy, carefully, all too aware of the gentle movements required . . . but also, to add further validation to his tease.

[John Murphy]

Any smart remark he had to offer on the lazy actions of the other, however jesting, was muted the moment Bellamy began to push in. A tease to provoke that the man liked to rush abruptly redundant, considering the care currently needed and the time taken. Still, it drew a soft chuckle as Murphy relaxed a little more, head pressed to his arms still crossed on the bed in front of him, momentarily hiding his face. Though he soon lifted his head enough to subdue a moan against his forearm as the sound broke free. 

For all his reluctance to fully trust the other man, Murphy never had trouble with this form of it during their interactions. Strange that his trust in Bellamy manifested itself, prior to and now once again, with him relinquishing control in this way. At some point he'd convinced himself it was merely a lesser form, fleeting somehow so that he would never need to confirm it, regardless of the intimacy of it all. Yet now they had made their commitment in their own way every touch meant more, each act more than a moment without expectation. 

Another moan fell from his lips, uninhibited this time, as Bellamy pushed deeper. With Murphy staying still under the other save his fingers curling to grasp at the sheets, loosening the hold only to grip tight once again as Bellamy slid further inside. Until, all in... a pause. The younger man taking the break in movement to turn his head to one side, a glance cast from the corner if his eye to the other man behind him as a grin picked up once again, accented with a pop of his brows. "What did I tell you... patience is a virtue and all that."

Tag: Bellamy Blake