There it is. Carver takes a slow breath, opening his eyes to watch Pope. Part of him wants it to feel good, even though he knows that makes it harder. But no one really takes care of Pope, do they? Carver bumps his head against his commander’s, all quiet animal affection, and keeps going. Angles up and rubs gently, waiting until he feels Pope arch into it again before he adds another finger.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-06-13 07:53 pm (UTC)“Like that,” he murmurs, very softly. “Sir.”