prodigalflame: (quietly pleased)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
It was a night like many other nights. John got home from classes with a grumble that mostly disappeared when he saw Bobby. He heated up the pumpkin soup he'd cooked the night before, and declared it better the second time. His grumbling returned when he retreated to the study to pore over open books, make jagged notes on several different pads and promptly strike them all out. Turning to marking and taking some notes on the tutorial discussion he'd lead earlier that day went better; as he told Bobby, he did actually like the 'dingbats', as he called them, although John could never quite imagine himself being that young.

And like most nights, it had ended up with John feeling a lot better by sitting in Bobby's lap, fisting a hand in Bobby's hair, and making out like it it was going out of style.

"You're really good at kissing," John declared, pressing lighter kisses to Bobby's hair, squirming a little so Bobby had to feel the way his ass moved against that crotch. "A-plus, definitely. Same for your blowjobs. And hand jobs." But there was one thing John had yet to uh, grade.
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