If Jude had any trace of doubt or disbelief about his feelings, the way Kieran kissed him back was more than convincing enough.
He hadn’t quite ancipated it – he might have gasped into the kiss, already overwhelmed before Kieran’s hands were at his back. (Kieran was already doing better than he was, then, because he couldn’t think, let alone work out what he should do with his hands. Impulses came to him, clamouring – to press a hand to his neck or his shoulder or his jaw – to grasp him by the hips and pull him closer – to touch him somewhere, anywhere, more – but he hadn’t managed much more than curling his hands around his sides before the kiss was over.)
He let Kieran pull away, lips still slightly parted, head reeling and still breathless from it.
“Right,” Jude echoed, surprised he could form words at all, “yes.” His heart was still fluttering so fast in his chest that he was almost disoriented enough to look around, like he’d forgotten that was where they were going. And he knew it wasn’t far, but judging by the beseeching look on his face it might as well have been miles. And he didn’t dare trying to disapparate them, not now, not after all this. So he gave a shaky nod and exhaled and – if he wasn’t allowed to kiss him again yet – settled for clasping Kieran’s hand instead to say come on, then. His strides now were longer and more impatient than before, trying to keep a better pace with his pulse.
Maybe it was sensible, besides, to have a moment longer to process this. That somehow Kieran loved him. That somehow there was an unfamiliar new warmth spreading through his limbs, already enough to have chased out any consciousness of the crisp autumn air. He kept going until Kieran’s tenement building came into view, but Jude hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing sidelong on the way, shooting Kieran little dazed looks – almost afraid, for some unfathomable reason, that by the time they made it there, he might have changed his mind.
He hadn’t quite ancipated it – he might have gasped into the kiss, already overwhelmed before Kieran’s hands were at his back. (Kieran was already doing better than he was, then, because he couldn’t think, let alone work out what he should do with his hands. Impulses came to him, clamouring – to press a hand to his neck or his shoulder or his jaw – to grasp him by the hips and pull him closer – to touch him somewhere, anywhere, more – but he hadn’t managed much more than curling his hands around his sides before the kiss was over.)
He let Kieran pull away, lips still slightly parted, head reeling and still breathless from it.
“Right,” Jude echoed, surprised he could form words at all, “yes.” His heart was still fluttering so fast in his chest that he was almost disoriented enough to look around, like he’d forgotten that was where they were going. And he knew it wasn’t far, but judging by the beseeching look on his face it might as well have been miles. And he didn’t dare trying to disapparate them, not now, not after all this. So he gave a shaky nod and exhaled and – if he wasn’t allowed to kiss him again yet – settled for clasping Kieran’s hand instead to say come on, then. His strides now were longer and more impatient than before, trying to keep a better pace with his pulse.
Maybe it was sensible, besides, to have a moment longer to process this. That somehow Kieran loved him. That somehow there was an unfamiliar new warmth spreading through his limbs, already enough to have chased out any consciousness of the crisp autumn air. He kept going until Kieran’s tenement building came into view, but Jude hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing sidelong on the way, shooting Kieran little dazed looks – almost afraid, for some unfathomable reason, that by the time they made it there, he might have changed his mind.
