Words leave a taste in his mouth. The shape of them lingers, tang of lemon, grapefruit. The feel of them pierces, sharp pins in his jaw, sour like penny bomb sweets bursting grimace on his tongue.
Geoffrey's name tastes of butter when he speaks it, smooth, warm, pleasant. Geoffrey's smile is like melted butter and toast, sliding smooth and rough down his throat.
Jamie's name sounds sharp when Geoffrey gasps it. Whispers it so only he can hear. Sharp like citrus, the feel of his answer sliding sour, cream and herbs, out of his mouth, butter and toast his reward.