[Mike's lips travel slowly down Chuck's face, but still, and Chuck's pretty sure it's a thing that happens just then, it feels like they leave skidmarks across his skin, like they've just broken a new speed record, just to test a new battery or another change in the gears or a tweak of the engine. Unaware of it, Chuck raises his head to follow Mike when he pulls away, only breaking and opening his eyes when Mike talks.
When Mike tells him to 'keep going', actually, and it almost rings as an order in Chuck's ears, but instead of apprehensiveness or fear, or whatever reactions people have when they're told what to do, Chuck breathes out a loud sigh, or a quiet moan - there isn't much difference, given the context - and he digs his fingers deeper against Mike's side for the fleeting second he manages to hold back from sliding it around, crawling underneath the shirt and pressing his open hand against the bare skin of Mike's navel, lingering there as Chuck tries to focus, tries to think, just a couple of breaths...
But he figures there's no use to thinking right now. It's like Mike's tendency to go with instinct is tacking itself to Chuck by proxy, and Chuck doesn't need seconds or moments anymore, he only needs to ride his hand farther up, fingers exploring the hairs, the curves of the muscles, the edges of some old scar Chuck hadn't even noticed before, hadn't even wanted to reach until that one moment. Something he never knew he wanted - not just the scar; everything.]
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When Mike tells him to 'keep going', actually, and it almost rings as an order in Chuck's ears, but instead of apprehensiveness or fear, or whatever reactions people have when they're told what to do, Chuck breathes out a loud sigh, or a quiet moan - there isn't much difference, given the context - and he digs his fingers deeper against Mike's side for the fleeting second he manages to hold back from sliding it around, crawling underneath the shirt and pressing his open hand against the bare skin of Mike's navel, lingering there as Chuck tries to focus, tries to think, just a couple of breaths...
But he figures there's no use to thinking right now. It's like Mike's tendency to go with instinct is tacking itself to Chuck by proxy, and Chuck doesn't need seconds or moments anymore, he only needs to ride his hand farther up, fingers exploring the hairs, the curves of the muscles, the edges of some old scar Chuck hadn't even noticed before, hadn't even wanted to reach until that one moment. Something he never knew he wanted - not just the scar; everything.]