[ The sweater comes free easily and Jack's hands come up to hold his face. It's a moment that makes him still almost immediately, eyes focused straight ahead. One of his hands brush against Jack's fingers, grabbing them. Rough, warm, dry, callused. It feels good against the rasping stubble on his jaw.
Isaac leans in and presses a kiss to his throat once, twice, three times, each lower than the last until he's nuzzling against the rise of his collarbone, steadily tugging him in by his waist now. ]
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Isaac leans in and presses a kiss to his throat once, twice, three times, each lower than the last until he's nuzzling against the rise of his collarbone, steadily tugging him in by his waist now. ]