Tycho taking Ford's weird comment in stride made Ford feel, paradoxically, even more embarrassed about it. At first, he wasn't sure why. Maybe some part of it had to do with Tycho's follow on remark that he was comfortable with almost anything. The phrasing implied that there were quite a variety of things on the table — maybe things that Ford had never done before? He couldn't know what he didn't know, of course. A little over a year ago, he had no idea that anyone could finish inside someone's mouth. They'd actually had a whole conversation about it the first time it had happened, because it had been so new and strange. With Macnair maybe that was fine, because the dynamic there had been different; Ford had always been the innocent of the pair of them. The idea of something similar happening with Ty at some point in the future was absolutely mortifying. He didn't want to play the innocent to Tycho's veteran; the naiveté to his experience.
This wasn't about sex at all, Ford realized. Divorced from the context of what was happening, Ford would never have tried to present himself as any sort of expert when it came to romance, any more than he would have claimed he could have played professional Quidditch. But Tycho didn't play Quidditch and playing Quidditch wasn't an activity they had just decided to make an integral (if, as Ford was still convinced, temporary) part of their friendship. Sex was, or it would be soon enough. Prior to tonight, they had been evenly matched in many ways; more partners than mentor and pupil. This was going to change the balance of their entire relationship. Things were never going to go back to the way they had been prior to tonight. Even if Tycho eventually got tired of sleeping with him (which he would), they were always going to be lovers from here on out, and in this moment that title seemed something less than friends. Tycho had plenty of lovers, Ford was vaguely aware, but he'd thought the friendship they had with each other was something special and unique. Ford had just been demoted.
All of this ran through his head in the span of time it took for Tycho's tongue to run across the inside edge of his lip. For a second Ford wanted to blurt out Can you promise we'll still be friends when this is over? but there were a hundred good reasons not to say it. It was desperate and clingy; it was a promise Tycho couldn't keep, because it wasn't as though both of them could just unilaterally decide not to let anything change — Ford had been through all of that with Macnair, and he couldn't change the way he'd felt; he'd just been going through the motions. Another good reason not to say it: it would kill the mood. It wasn't as though tonight could be salvaged; it was over from the moment Tycho caressed his face back in his bedroom. A line had been crossed that could never be un-crossed.
I'm going to miss him so much, Ford thought as he wrapped one leg around Tycho's waist. He was caught between wanting to get Tycho off as quickly as he could, so that he could think through things without the distraction of Ty's body against his, and wanting to draw these moments out forever so that the ending he was envisioning shrank into just a distant spot on the horizon. He reached both his hands up to cradle Ty's jaw once again and kissed him back fervently. Fuck this.
This wasn't about sex at all, Ford realized. Divorced from the context of what was happening, Ford would never have tried to present himself as any sort of expert when it came to romance, any more than he would have claimed he could have played professional Quidditch. But Tycho didn't play Quidditch and playing Quidditch wasn't an activity they had just decided to make an integral (if, as Ford was still convinced, temporary) part of their friendship. Sex was, or it would be soon enough. Prior to tonight, they had been evenly matched in many ways; more partners than mentor and pupil. This was going to change the balance of their entire relationship. Things were never going to go back to the way they had been prior to tonight. Even if Tycho eventually got tired of sleeping with him (which he would), they were always going to be lovers from here on out, and in this moment that title seemed something less than friends. Tycho had plenty of lovers, Ford was vaguely aware, but he'd thought the friendship they had with each other was something special and unique. Ford had just been demoted.
All of this ran through his head in the span of time it took for Tycho's tongue to run across the inside edge of his lip. For a second Ford wanted to blurt out Can you promise we'll still be friends when this is over? but there were a hundred good reasons not to say it. It was desperate and clingy; it was a promise Tycho couldn't keep, because it wasn't as though both of them could just unilaterally decide not to let anything change — Ford had been through all of that with Macnair, and he couldn't change the way he'd felt; he'd just been going through the motions. Another good reason not to say it: it would kill the mood. It wasn't as though tonight could be salvaged; it was over from the moment Tycho caressed his face back in his bedroom. A line had been crossed that could never be un-crossed.
I'm going to miss him so much, Ford thought as he wrapped one leg around Tycho's waist. He was caught between wanting to get Tycho off as quickly as he could, so that he could think through things without the distraction of Ty's body against his, and wanting to draw these moments out forever so that the ending he was envisioning shrank into just a distant spot on the horizon. He reached both his hands up to cradle Ty's jaw once again and kissed him back fervently. Fuck this.
Set by Lady!