Even the idea of anyone talking to neighbors brought a fresh rush of color to Ford’s cheeks, and he might have protested immediately if there wasn’t such a huge lump in his throat preventing him from speaking. He tried to swallow, but before he could clear it Macnair was back on the bed and reaching out to touch him. Ford’s insides tugged at the contact. This was different from being touched in that urgent, needy way that they touched each other at the beginnings of their interactions. It was different from the lazy, thoughtless way they touched each other after things were finished. This was a comforting sort of touch, intentional but with no ulterior need. Ford didn’t know how to feel about that. More importantly, he didn’t know what to do about that. Should he turn his hand over so that he could hold Macnair’s? Or lean in towards him, scoot closer on the bed? That seemed to be the appropriate physical response, but — but he didn’t know. Macnair trying to soothe him wasn’t something that had happened before, and it made Ford feel a certain way. He could recognize that there was a feeling there without recognizing what the feeling was, without wanting to name it. He didn’t know whether he wanted to hold Macnair’s hand or snuggle in close to him, and somehow these sorts of decisions were so much easier in the immediate aftermath of sex — they felt less loaded, when it was about sex and not about comfort.
“Uhm, alright,” Ford managed after a moment, his cheeks still bright red. He wondered if he’d been staring at Macnair — if his indecision about the hand on his had stretched out as long as he’d felt like it had or whether that had only been in his mind. “Later.”
Ford's arms were still crossed over his knees, with the pillow wedged between his knees and his face, and Macnair’s hand was still on his. He looked indecisively at Macnair, wrestling with — whatever this was. Then, suddenly, he moved across the bed and kissed Macnair on the mouth, just a quick peck. For half a second afterwards Ford froze, as though surprised by the kiss, then he leaned back towards his side of the bed and shifted his eyes to the floor. His cheeks were burning and the lump in his throat was back, and he didn’t know why he’d just done that but suspected of he did know, he'd find the answer deeply mortifying. “I guess I should go?”
“Uhm, alright,” Ford managed after a moment, his cheeks still bright red. He wondered if he’d been staring at Macnair — if his indecision about the hand on his had stretched out as long as he’d felt like it had or whether that had only been in his mind. “Later.”
Ford's arms were still crossed over his knees, with the pillow wedged between his knees and his face, and Macnair’s hand was still on his. He looked indecisively at Macnair, wrestling with — whatever this was. Then, suddenly, he moved across the bed and kissed Macnair on the mouth, just a quick peck. For half a second afterwards Ford froze, as though surprised by the kiss, then he leaned back towards his side of the bed and shifted his eyes to the floor. His cheeks were burning and the lump in his throat was back, and he didn’t know why he’d just done that but suspected of he did know, he'd find the answer deeply mortifying. “I guess I should go?”
Set by Lady!