There had been a thought, the first time they had crossed paths (or maybe the second time, the first time where Jasper wasn't actively attempting to murder Bishop), where he thought that the two of them being from opposite sides of the street was kind of funny. Like Romeo and Juliet, or West Side Story, but with less feeling and more fucking, and probably the same amount of death. Now-- well it isn't quite as funny a thought. He tries not to think about what could happen, about how terrible of a fucking idea it is, but he also can't help but think about how Bishop isn't really stopping it either.

Jasper thinks again of gravity wells, of event horizons, and of the inescapable things that can eat away at you slowly. Thinks about how now seems to stretch on forever, and he's okay with that, wants to feel the way that Bishop handles him like he is something precious and delicate, even if it's only for the lace (has to tell himself it's only for the lace or he might do something stupid).

"Hmmm, you certainly do-- ah." It's the way he shifts, moving to help Bishop remove the last of the lace from his hips, that makes the little gift he has for Bishop shift inside of him and makes him moan, head tipping back and thighs shaking a little more. The smile he shoots Bishop is lopsided.