agent_24

Admittedly, usually it’s Shin who’s acting like he’ll just keel over and die if he doesn’t get some dick immediately. Usually, Shin walks in eager enough that Drifter doesn’t have to drop hints about how much he wants him.

That’s true this time, too, but...well. A man gets hungry, sometimes.

Under his hood, Shin’s eyes go wide. He’s taken to stopping by without his helmet if it’s late enough, if Drifter’s about to shut the gate and hunker down for dinner and sleep. Oddly enough, the absence of it makes him think on the Renegade days, back when they’d get their hands on each other and Drifter would have to get by on bodily reactions instead of facial expressions, back before he found out Shin had just as much of a fondness for getting his mouth on things as he did.

He still feels naked sometimes, with Shin watching him openly like that. As he undoes Shin’s belts and tugs down his zipper, he reckons that’s to be expected.

Shin’s gloved fingers hover near Drifter’s jaw as Drifter drops to his knees, fingers brushing his cheek before sliding up to push Drifter’s headband off. Drifter shoots him an amused glance, rubs a circle against Shin’s hip with his thumb, tucks his nose into the V-line there.

“Tease,” Shin murmurs, and Drifter grins with all his teeth, presses a slow kiss against his skin and bites down just to hear Shin gasp.