7.3
That one touch seemed to ignite both the young men as they seemingly *dived* for each other. Both shirts were removed before they allowed themselves that long-awaited, much-fantasised kiss. They both fell upon an armchair nearby, Wickham beneath, Darcy on his lap. Henry strained closer so their chests touched, and they kissed most vigorously until George's brain hurt from denying himself of air for so long. He forcedly broke off the embrace; Darcy dazedly opened his eyes, his lips red and bruised. He stared at George's lips in shock for a moment, and was about to open in his mouth to speak, when his wits rapidly snuffed out as George began to slowly lick and suck his neck.
Of course, with mouths and tongues wandering around with such abandon, hands were bound to imitate. But when George ran his hand down young Darcy's chest, through the sporadic chest hair and settled directly on the front of his breeches, he was more than surprised. He arched back against the chair arm so rapidly that he ended up knocking his head on a decorative and serendipitously appropriate statue of Eros placed next to it. Again this brought him briefly back to his senses, again he attempted to halt this exciting event, and again George disarmed him with the ease and skill of a rake.
That one touch seemed to ignite both the young men as they seemingly *dived* for each other. Both shirts were removed before they allowed themselves that long-awaited, much-fantasised kiss. They both fell upon an armchair nearby, Wickham beneath, Darcy on his lap. Henry strained closer so their chests touched, and they kissed most vigorously until George's brain hurt from denying himself of air for so long. He forcedly broke off the embrace; Darcy dazedly opened his eyes, his lips red and bruised. He stared at George's lips in shock for a moment, and was about to open in his mouth to speak, when his wits rapidly snuffed out as George began to slowly lick and suck his neck.
Of course, with mouths and tongues wandering around with such abandon, hands were bound to imitate. But when George ran his hand down young Darcy's chest, through the sporadic chest hair and settled directly on the front of his breeches, he was more than surprised. He arched back against the chair arm so rapidly that he ended up knocking his head on a decorative and serendipitously appropriate statue of Eros placed next to it. Again this brought him briefly back to his senses, again he attempted to halt this exciting event, and again George disarmed him with the ease and skill of a rake.