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Your Body is a Wonderland
John Mayer

We got the afternoon; you got this room for two
One thing I've left to do – discover me, discovering you…
There's something 'bout the way your hair falls in your face
I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase
Your body is a wonderland…

Gippal loves to explore the secrets of Baralai's body, every scar and freckle and bruise, every inch of it perfect in its imperfection. Everything about Baralai seems so warm – dark skin that glows in the sunlight, whisky-brown eyes, and when Gippal presses his mouth to the pulse in Baralai's neck, he can feel the life humming beneath hard muscles and soft skin. He used to whisper into that dark skin, all the awe he feels, the beauty he sees, but he's given up on trying to convince Baralai of any of it. Now he shows it with his lips, tongue, teeth, hands, touches Baralai with reverence and respect, like he's found an angel – overdoes his worship to prove that it's deserved.

"You're being – silly," Baralai gasps, but he's almost levitating, arching up into Gippal's mouth against the hands pinning his hips to the bed. "Gippal, why do you–" And then, as Gippal pulls away and scrapes his teeth over Baralai's hipbone, a desperate cry of his name. "Gippal—"

Gippal almost laughs as his tongue traces the line where hip meets thigh. It's only about the hundredth time today he's brought Baralai so close, right there, writhing underneath him, and backed away just in time. "Who's being silly?"

All that comes out of Baralai's mouth is several curses. Gippal does laugh, then, sliding his hand over Baralai's stomach and feeling muscles ripple under his palm. "Doesn't it feel good," he murmurs, sliding up along Baralai's body until their lips brush with his every word, "to be worshipped once in a while?" Baralai gasps for air, eyelids fluttering, his breath smelling of green tea and chocolate, and Gippal grins against his mouth. "Admit it," he teases, his hands slipping around to press into Baralai's back and pull their bodies closer.

Baralai opens his eyes, and desire crackles under Gippal's skin at the heat in their depths. "Yes," he says clearly, and then, a little less calmly, "finish it, finish it—"

Gippal kisses him, then, and thinks he could never get too close or discover too much – he could go on forever like this and it would never be too much.

In the end, it's usually Baralai who takes control, because he doesn't know how not to. But when it comes to kissing and touching and finding, Gippal can melt him like chocolate in the sun. Sometimes, it does feel good to be worshipped – whether he believes any of it or not.