[ Kavinsky pulls his fingers out of John's hair and instead settles his fingers into Proko's hair, at least for now. He tugs his shirt up to his armpits and slides his other hand across Proko's chest. It's lovely to play with him, and he does always love to see someone fool around with his boy.
He doesn't speak, feeling it might spoil the moment, but he is very present. There's no escaping it now: they're in his tent, among his things, and he'll watch as long as he likes. ]
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He doesn't speak, feeling it might spoil the moment, but he is very present. There's no escaping it now: they're in his tent, among his things, and he'll watch as long as he likes. ]