[ his inspiration from the bubbles and the countdown hasn’t fizzled out yet. he’s assuming that’s what it is. buzzed from the champagne and dizzy with a restless kind of adrenaline from shouting in a room full of strangers. ( but he also doesn’t care. so that’s nice. ) and anyway, is this the worst thing that can happen? archie’s banking on no. what’s a little spit swapping between friends? —fyi, that didn’t sound any better in his head. it’s about as trashy out loud as it is hidden away in the confines of his mind but since they’re yeeting their way right into ‘19, where’s the problem?
archie takes reggie’s arm on his bicep and his fingers threading in his hair as incentive to continue. it’s not like he’s trying to climb into his mouth with his tongue or anything ( he’s not that pushy ) but he’s pretty convinced that reggie’s the best thing he’s tasted all night and he wants more. he breaks with a tiny gasp for air, looking somewhat confused. did they stop? are they stopping? he barely pulls away, obliging only because he’s not a jerk but every part of his body language from the trace of his eyes to the way he wets his lips, catching the remnants of him says he’s not ready to put an end to this. plus, he's not eagerly inserting any extra space between them. ]
You think that’s why? [ oh, well, he can explain later. or show him. yeah, you could show him, his brain helpfully chirps in. archie ( sort of ) ignores himself and splays his palm open at the base of his throat and the start of his chest — where his hand had balled into a fist — pulling, pushing, it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme. archie’s not even sure which one he’s going for with his mouth reoccupied. in a few hours, he's probably going to have to send an extremely awkward apology text from the safe distance of his room and then never look reggie in the eyes directly again.
you know, for sliding his other arm around his waist and pulling him in by the small of his back. oh, and for tearing at his mouth with a graze of teeth. not hard bot not exactly gentle either. that's. probably not okay? ]
you make a valid point
archie takes reggie’s arm on his bicep and his fingers threading in his hair as incentive to continue. it’s not like he’s trying to climb into his mouth with his tongue or anything ( he’s not that pushy ) but he’s pretty convinced that reggie’s the best thing he’s tasted all night and he wants more. he breaks with a tiny gasp for air, looking somewhat confused. did they stop? are they stopping? he barely pulls away, obliging only because he’s not a jerk but every part of his body language from the trace of his eyes to the way he wets his lips, catching the remnants of him says he’s not ready to put an end to this. plus, he's not eagerly inserting any extra space between them. ]
You think that’s why? [ oh, well, he can explain later. or show him. yeah, you could show him, his brain helpfully chirps in. archie ( sort of ) ignores himself and splays his palm open at the base of his throat and the start of his chest — where his hand had balled into a fist — pulling, pushing, it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme. archie’s not even sure which one he’s going for with his mouth reoccupied. in a few hours, he's probably going to have to send an extremely awkward apology text from the safe distance of his room and then never look reggie in the eyes directly again.
you know, for sliding his other arm around his waist and pulling him in by the small of his back. oh, and for tearing at his mouth with a graze of teeth. not hard bot not exactly gentle either. that's. probably not okay? ]