Whatever cord Simon had been using to hold himself back finally snapped. As Johnny leaned in to close the distance, Simon met him halfway.
The kiss tasted of bitter bourbon and sweet surrender, their hands tangling as they pulled each other into the heat.
His grip tightened, fingers curling around the hard ridge through denim.
"No regrets, Simon. Not a single damn one."
Johnny whispered, leaning in until his lips were inches from Simon's neck.
"I'm the one who decides what I want."
#Ghostsoap#Ghoap
Agegap
Older Simon / Younger Soap
At first, he thought it was nothing. Just a few drinks shared at a bar, the talk sliding into place easier than it had any right to. A casual drinking companion.
nothing more, nothing less.