At first, for just a fleeting second, Siwan finds himself shrinking away, pressing himself back against the arm of the couch as if he could find more space there. Instinct, training, whatever it was, he quickly pushed it aside. Distance is the last thing he wants when Seb moves in so close Siwan can feel the heat of him.
Seb's hands in his hair send flashes of that first touch... Seb's fingers brushed the back of his neck that night they met. And Siwan's been thinking about them ever since. SUch a small thing, a subtle thing that maybe someone else might over look, but every point of contact sparked with fire. Then and now.
That breath against his ear sends a full-body shiver running through Siwan. He doesn't forget to breathe so much as simply hold his breath in anticipation. Don't think. Please, help him turn the thought off. He's sure Seb can do it. He's so sure that Seb can obliterate any worries that plague him, even if only for a little bit. Please, give him that respite. Please. The word's on his tongue like a weight, almost formed and brought into the world when those lips he could never forget press to his once more.
And the dam breaks.
Siwan sags in relief. Maybe later he'll be thankful he's sitting, that the arm of the couch is behind for him to lean again. But later. Later. Not now. Now, he shifts to close more of the distance between them. Now, Siwan forgets the whole world beyond the door, even beyond this couch (sorry again, Opet!). Now, he reaches out, uncertain but without much hesitation. Now, he balls his hands in Seb's shirt, tugging insistently for more contact, for more of him.
And while this certainly isn't his first kiss, it may as well be the first one that matters. There's a beat, maybe two before he responds in kind. This may never happen again, so Siwan has to map out the unfamiliar curves and contour's of Seb's mouth. He has to savor the dirty slide of their tongues against each other. He's not trying to lead the dance, but he knows how to follow along. ))
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At first, for just a fleeting second, Siwan finds himself shrinking away, pressing himself back against the arm of the couch as if he could find more space there. Instinct, training, whatever it was, he quickly pushed it aside. Distance is the last thing he wants when Seb moves in so close Siwan can feel the heat of him.
Seb's hands in his hair send flashes of that first touch... Seb's fingers brushed the back of his neck that night they met. And Siwan's been thinking about them ever since. SUch a small thing, a subtle thing that maybe someone else might over look, but every point of contact sparked with fire. Then and now.
That breath against his ear sends a full-body shiver running through Siwan. He doesn't forget to breathe so much as simply hold his breath in anticipation. Don't think. Please, help him turn the thought off. He's sure Seb can do it. He's so sure that Seb can obliterate any worries that plague him, even if only for a little bit. Please, give him that respite. Please. The word's on his tongue like a weight, almost formed and brought into the world when those lips he could never forget press to his once more.
And the dam breaks.
Siwan sags in relief. Maybe later he'll be thankful he's sitting, that the arm of the couch is behind for him to lean again. But later. Later. Not now. Now, he shifts to close more of the distance between them. Now, Siwan forgets the whole world beyond the door, even beyond this couch (sorry again, Opet!). Now, he reaches out, uncertain but without much hesitation. Now, he balls his hands in Seb's shirt, tugging insistently for more contact, for more of him.
And while this certainly isn't his first kiss, it may as well be the first one that matters. There's a beat, maybe two before he responds in kind. This may never happen again, so Siwan has to map out the unfamiliar curves and contour's of Seb's mouth. He has to savor the dirty slide of their tongues against each other. He's not trying to lead the dance, but he knows how to follow along. ))