"If you keep doing that, you are going to leave me no choice."
He leans forward and his kiss is not chaste. It is, in fact, quite demanding, especially as a hand slides around his jaw to the hair on the back of his neck.
He leans into the kiss with a soft noise at the hand in his hair, and starts going double-time on the buttons to try and get these monkey suits off as soon as possible.
Sheehan wants nothing more than to be out of these clothes. Maybe in pajamas. Maybe just in nothing at all. Either way, he wants out of the jacket and lets it fall down to the ground, one hand intending in the same for Arthur.
"I love you," he echoes muzzily, letting his arms get tugged back to take his jacket off only when he's finished Sheehan's shirt, so he can bring his hands back immediately to push it open and kiss his neck.
He steps forward, walking him back towards their bed. "If I fall asleep halway through, you can't hold it against me," he teases, never moving far from the kiss.
"I promise I'll be very patient with you," he hums with a wide grin against Sheehan, letting himself be shepherded back until his knees hit the bed; but he stands his ground for a moment, at least so he can tug Sheehan by the belt to bump their hips together before he starts undoing it.
"You won't. You'll give me so much shit," he teases, lips against his cheek, then down to his jaw and back again so he can take Arthur's hands in his, helping him with the belt and trousers.
"Mm, at least no one will need us tonight. It's our wedding night, after all."
His breath is hot and heavy when Sheehan kisses down his jaw, and it's a good thing he starts helping because his hands falter when he does. "We'll- J-John can throw them overboard, I dunno," he mumbles, finally getting to push them down and rub his hands gently over Sheehan's bare thighs with a soft hum.
"He can," he agrees, heart thrumming hard in his chest. He doesn't know how every time can feel like the first, but it does. It always fucking does.
He steps out of the trousers and starts to finally work on Arthur, his own hands steady and insistent. "I have no responsibilities. Just you. Just - this."
"Just- us," he agrees, letting Sheehan tug his pants loose, and he helps push them down - even if doing it overbalances him enough to send him backwards with an aborted noise as his ass hits the mattress, and he laughs softly.
Arthur is still in the kiss for a moment, his whole focus dedicated to it, but then Sheehan's getting cosy at the head of his - their bed, and Arthur's kicking his shoes and pants off with abandon so he can scrabble back up to kneel next to Sheehan - and in a moment of impulse, swings a leg over him to kneel over his husband's lap, to bury both hands in Sheehan's curls and kiss him some more.
Their bed. It's certainly an upgrade to think about.
Wearing nothing but his ring now, he trails a hand along Arthur's back, digging his fingers in. The kiss seems more heated now, more demanding, and he pulls back to catch his breath. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about me falling asleep, detective," he teases.
Perhaps Arthur looks a little- no, it's definitely very smug, as he smiles shamelessly down at Sheehan.
"Good. I do like your attention being on me." And it's not hard to see quite how much, with how flushed his scar-mottled body is, as he toys with a curl between two fingers.
"I'm sure you do," he scoffs, sitting up to kiss a trail along his collarbone, reaching between them, even as he keeps him close, to take Arthur in hand. He strokes him slowly, keeping his eyes on Arthur's face.
His eyes flutter shut when Sheehan takes him in hand, a breathy gasp escaping him; but he relaxes into the touch immediately, hips leaning into Sheehan's hand as he rests his arms on his husband's shoulders to support himself.
He rises up to meet him, leisurely and gentle, prolonging the moment as he indulges in one kiss at a time. "God, I love you," he mutters against his lips. "I love you so goddamn much."
It's difficult to keep up the kisses and words in response, the faster his hips rock into Sheehan's hand, and he rests his forehead against Sheehan's as he pants heavily, whimpering, "Christ, Les--"
"Yeah," he mutters. "I love you, you're so goddamn gorgeous." He grips his fingers tighter into his back, wanting him close, encouraging him to rock his hips.
Those moans, those achingly familiar moans, are enough to make his breath stop. The beads of sweat along his forehead have made his hair curl more, freeing itself from the gel he had put it it that morning for the wedding. He raises up against him, both hands wrapping around him almost desperately.
One hand buries awkwardly in Sheehan's hair, the same arm supporting Arthur while his free hand comes down between them, and he whimpers into Sheehan's mouth when he brushes past his own over-sensitive cock to wrap around Sheehan's and start stroking him in turn.
He gives his ass a playful squeeze, one that turns to a caress as Arthur takes him in hand.
"Oh goddamn," he breathes out, then buries his next words in a desperate kiss. He's already flushed and needy, and he can't help how his hips rock into Arthur's hand.
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Post Wedding!
"If you keep doing that, you are going to leave me no choice."
He leans forward and his kiss is not chaste. It is, in fact, quite demanding, especially as a hand slides around his jaw to the hair on the back of his neck.
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He leans into the kiss with a soft noise at the hand in his hair, and starts going double-time on the buttons to try and get these monkey suits off as soon as possible.
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"I love you," he murmurs.
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"Mm, at least no one will need us tonight. It's our wedding night, after all."
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He steps out of the trousers and starts to finally work on Arthur, his own hands steady and insistent. "I have no responsibilities. Just you. Just - this."
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"Come here."
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Wearing nothing but his ring now, he trails a hand along Arthur's back, digging his fingers in. The kiss seems more heated now, more demanding, and he pulls back to catch his breath. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about me falling asleep, detective," he teases.
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"Good. I do like your attention being on me." And it's not hard to see quite how much, with how flushed his scar-mottled body is, as he toys with a curl between two fingers.
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Now it's Sheehan's turn to look smug.
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"My husband," he murmurs, just tasting the words on his tongue.
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"My husband," he echoes, every exhale a soft whimper as he rocks in Sheehan's hand. "I- f-fuck..."
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"L-Les, I- God--"
And he finds Sheehan's mouth again for a hungry, desperate kiss as he comes with a husky groan.
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"Oh goddamn," he breathes out, then buries his next words in a desperate kiss. He's already flushed and needy, and he can't help how his hips rock into Arthur's hand.
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