[The contact between them is such a slight thing, the barest press of a soft mouth against his own. Inexplicable, then, the cascade of light behind his eyes as he closes them and presses his own barely parted lips back. Unexpected, how feeling expands in his chest like a delicate, iridescent bubble.
He has no reference point for what this should be like except gauzy dreams a thousand worlds away from this one, dreams that always stopped just short of tactile reality. In the dreams, there was no trace of mingled spice and golden liquor at the corners of the mouth on his, or the faintest catch of his own slightly chapped lips. There was no heightened throbbing of his pulse in punctured ears, barely out of sync with the muffled sound of music. There was no bucket for his foot to tap against as he shifted closer. It's not at all alike, except that in both dream and reality, it's a plunge into strange and dazzling waters.
His arm loops around Kaworu's slender waist somewhere in the midst of these reflections, gathering him close as Paul's fingers find the spot just above the raised curve of his hipbone to curl into the softness of his shirt. He skims his other hand to the nape of Kaworu's neck, a mirror and an echo of only minutes before, because Paul has always been a quick study.
For a precious, suspended moment, he doesn't think of anything but this, anchored fully and perfectly by the present at his fingertips.]
no subject
He has no reference point for what this should be like except gauzy dreams a thousand worlds away from this one, dreams that always stopped just short of tactile reality. In the dreams, there was no trace of mingled spice and golden liquor at the corners of the mouth on his, or the faintest catch of his own slightly chapped lips. There was no heightened throbbing of his pulse in punctured ears, barely out of sync with the muffled sound of music. There was no bucket for his foot to tap against as he shifted closer. It's not at all alike, except that in both dream and reality, it's a plunge into strange and dazzling waters.
His arm loops around Kaworu's slender waist somewhere in the midst of these reflections, gathering him close as Paul's fingers find the spot just above the raised curve of his hipbone to curl into the softness of his shirt. He skims his other hand to the nape of Kaworu's neck, a mirror and an echo of only minutes before, because Paul has always been a quick study.
For a precious, suspended moment, he doesn't think of anything but this, anchored fully and perfectly by the present at his fingertips.]