you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling
Nate’s one eye flicks back and forth between both of his husbands steely ones, brows furrowing tightly as he searches for something. Good. He doesn’t blink once, the entire time. Doesn’t shift an inch, except to lean in closer. And to lean back completely, when he finally does, the ascended standing at his full height just to loom. An almost apology is reason enough to maintain the threat longer.
While it doesn’t soak up any tension, the mental hug of love does increase the limits on his patience, just slightly. Nate thinks maybe he should feel guilty, maybe he should feel guilty about not feeling guilty, but pure, simple relief washes over him like the driving rain outside.
Truly, he’s trying to keep things normal, trying to keep a right hold on everything he does, but this lapse is unavoidable. A careful balancing act of how much is too much to know now. By this point, Nate could be a champion at the game, but it still comes on so suddenly that even he stumbles. Anything else would be an easy decision, but this is something that affects only him, something that feels safe. ”Mostly the same.” He finally settles on, before distracting himself with another sip of coffee.
Sunjata’s fidgeting is hard to ignore, but between everything else Nate manages. Honestly, he doesn’t even notice the glove for a moment, that single blue eye slipping towards the covered eye slowly, understanding trailing behind it. And even when the penny drops, Nate’s slow to move. It’s a process.
Set the mug down.
Pull the glove on.
Hesitate a breath, before grabbing Sunjata’s hand in a vicelike grip.
Brace.
Nothing happens though. No crackling pain, no physical at all. It’s not touching. It’s so simple it feels like cheating, like it’s going to backfire on him, even if it’s the same damn trick he’d used moments earlier. Pressure, and weight, and the maybe imaginary suggestion of warmth. So little that it makes what he’d had before seem like a dream.
Eyes flutter shut, and Nate exhales a breath he’d been holding for far too long. ”F-Fuck.” A single word that tries to escape as a growl, betrayed immediately by the quaver in his voice. His head drops into his hand as every ounce of willpower he has focuses on not squeezing too tightly for fear of breaking something. It’s the same reason he shakes like a leaf, certainly not because of the days of festering emotion all trying to press through this single pinhole of contact.
While it doesn’t soak up any tension, the mental hug of love does increase the limits on his patience, just slightly. Nate thinks maybe he should feel guilty, maybe he should feel guilty about not feeling guilty, but pure, simple relief washes over him like the driving rain outside.
Truly, he’s trying to keep things normal, trying to keep a right hold on everything he does, but this lapse is unavoidable. A careful balancing act of how much is too much to know now. By this point, Nate could be a champion at the game, but it still comes on so suddenly that even he stumbles. Anything else would be an easy decision, but this is something that affects only him, something that feels safe. ”Mostly the same.” He finally settles on, before distracting himself with another sip of coffee.
Sunjata’s fidgeting is hard to ignore, but between everything else Nate manages. Honestly, he doesn’t even notice the glove for a moment, that single blue eye slipping towards the covered eye slowly, understanding trailing behind it. And even when the penny drops, Nate’s slow to move. It’s a process.
Set the mug down.
Pull the glove on.
Hesitate a breath, before grabbing Sunjata’s hand in a vicelike grip.
Brace.
Nothing happens though. No crackling pain, no physical at all. It’s not touching. It’s so simple it feels like cheating, like it’s going to backfire on him, even if it’s the same damn trick he’d used moments earlier. Pressure, and weight, and the maybe imaginary suggestion of warmth. So little that it makes what he’d had before seem like a dream.
Eyes flutter shut, and Nate exhales a breath he’d been holding for far too long. ”F-Fuck.” A single word that tries to escape as a growl, betrayed immediately by the quaver in his voice. His head drops into his hand as every ounce of willpower he has focuses on not squeezing too tightly for fear of breaking something. It’s the same reason he shakes like a leaf, certainly not because of the days of festering emotion all trying to press through this single pinhole of contact.
& you're trembling and he reaches over
and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist
NATE
