Keeping their hands entwined while they walked and climbed the stairs and Kieran tried to unlock the door might not have been terribly practical, but Jude had needed it like a lifeline. To hang on tangibly to that conversation and that confession, if nothing else; to affirm that this was real and true and happening to him.
Now they were inside, Kieran’s flat still and quiet and familiar, and none of the brimming urgency had died down on the way. You painted me here, he recalled with stark new clarity, the year before last, on Valentine’s day. Extricating their hands at last, Jude swallowed and lifted his to Kieran’s face, brushed a hand along the line of his jaw in wonder.
As if he had needed to ask; as if Jude hadn’t already been imagining kissing him again. Almost solemnly, then, he let his hand drop to cup Kieran’s neck instead and settled his other hand around his waist as he leant in again. He still didn’t know if he was doing this right, but he was already well-convinced that one kiss alone would not be enough to quell the feeling. So when they broke for breath, Jude couldn’t stop himself from chasing one kiss with another, each longer and deeper and fiercer than the last. His mouth opened; his arm tightened around Kieran’s waist; he was determined to be closer than they were – and Kieran’s mouth was one thing, but he desperately wanted Kieran’s hands on him again.
And there were so many things Jude wanted to say, too – things that had been locked up and living in his ribcage for years, waiting at the back of his throat – but perhaps there was no harm in letting them spill out this way until he could arrange them into words.
Now they were inside, Kieran’s flat still and quiet and familiar, and none of the brimming urgency had died down on the way. You painted me here, he recalled with stark new clarity, the year before last, on Valentine’s day. Extricating their hands at last, Jude swallowed and lifted his to Kieran’s face, brushed a hand along the line of his jaw in wonder.
As if he had needed to ask; as if Jude hadn’t already been imagining kissing him again. Almost solemnly, then, he let his hand drop to cup Kieran’s neck instead and settled his other hand around his waist as he leant in again. He still didn’t know if he was doing this right, but he was already well-convinced that one kiss alone would not be enough to quell the feeling. So when they broke for breath, Jude couldn’t stop himself from chasing one kiss with another, each longer and deeper and fiercer than the last. His mouth opened; his arm tightened around Kieran’s waist; he was determined to be closer than they were – and Kieran’s mouth was one thing, but he desperately wanted Kieran’s hands on him again.
And there were so many things Jude wanted to say, too – things that had been locked up and living in his ribcage for years, waiting at the back of his throat – but perhaps there was no harm in letting them spill out this way until he could arrange them into words.
