( it's magic he's innately familiar with, even if it's magic oliver tends to avoid leaning into. the heat coming off of august is addictive in its way: it wreaks of danger. the kind of danger oliver wants to sink his teeth into and never let go, despite knowing full well how terrible of an idea it is. he knows better. but knowing better doesn't mean wanting to do better.
august presses right up against him, and the grin on oliver's lips widens. they're playing, and oliver just adores - games like this. the will they won't they, the anticipation. but he loves what comes next more:
lips pressed against his own, gentle and easy at first but slowly escalating. oliver gives a soft, pleased hum against august's lips. tightens his hold against his neck, pulling him in as if there was any space between them to fill, and gently, gently digs his teeth in against august's lower lip. )
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august presses right up against him, and the grin on oliver's lips widens. they're playing, and oliver just adores - games like this. the will they won't they, the anticipation. but he loves what comes next more:
lips pressed against his own, gentle and easy at first but slowly escalating. oliver gives a soft, pleased hum against august's lips. tightens his hold against his neck, pulling him in as if there was any space between them to fill, and gently, gently digs his teeth in against august's lower lip. )