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 Posted: Wed Jul 27, 2016 5:42 pm
How did one breathe again?
Caspian wasn't sure anymore. He was hardly even sure of his own name, because every soft, tender sweep of Michael’s fingers across his face was making his chest constrict further and further. Every touch made his skin tingle, made his face flush further, made his heart beat faster, and it felt - it felt -
It felt nice. It felt like warmth and wonder and everything all at once, and he wanted it. He wanted this gentle, soft side of Michael, he wanted these sweeping touches, he wanted that look on Michael’s face, like he was contemplating everything about him, like he wanted, maybe, what Caspian wanted as well. Michael’s cheeks were flushed like his own, and Caspian wanted to draw fingers across that flush, feel the warm skin beneath it, his hand pressing a little more firmly against the nape of his neck instead.
And now - and now Michael’s fingers were ghosting across his mouth and -
He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted Michael to close the last scant few centimeters between them.
Caspian’s breath was stuck in his throat; he tilted his head tentatively up further, his eyes falling-half shut, lashes fluttering, and there was just - a centimeter of space -
-and then Peter’s voice, snapping everything into reality.
Caspian jolted away just as Michael did the same, snatching up the pillow he’d been clutching and burying his face into it. He was acutely aware of his scarlet face, of his shattered breath, his shaking hands - and of Michael beside him, so near and so far at the same time.
What were you doing? Peter had asked, and Michael had answered, but it was the wrong answer.
Watching a movie. No, they hadn’t been watching a movie, they’d been…
About to kiss. He’d been about to kiss Michael Gallo, and he would have kissed Michael Gallo if Peter had not appeared, if Peter had not interrupted.
The realization hit him like a freight train, all at once.
He wanted to kiss Michael. It was terrifying how much he wished they hadn’t been separated; how much Caspian wished that there had been nothing but the two of them and the feel of Michael drawing him closer, of Michael’s lips on his, of Michael kissing him -
“Contemplating the universe,” was Caspian’s muffled, sardonic answer, into the pillow.
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Posted: Wed Jul 27, 2016 6:03 pm
Michael was aware that Peter was still standing there, staring at them, and Michael hastily grabbed one of the pillows at the end of the couch to just… hold on his lap. Because he did not want to have that conversation with his little brother.
He was also aware that Caspian had basically curled up onto himself in a tiny ball of embarrassment, and Michael winced sympathetically as he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Would it be strange to reach out and try to comfort him when Peter was standing right there? For all Peter knew the two of them were just friends…
Just friends… Michael realized that within that last minute, it was very likely that they’d moved past that point. Just friends didn’t want to hold the other close like Michael wanted to with Caspian. Just friends didn’t have the overwhelming desire to kiss the other. Right?
“Oh,” he heard Peter chirp, still staring between Michael and Caspian, he seemed to think about what he wanted to do. Finally, Michael heard him heading to the kitchen, where Peter apparently got some ice cream from the fridge, and then, to Michael’s horror, Peter decided to join them. Thankfully not on the same couch, but on the other chair in the living room.
Seriously?
Michael, still feeling overwhelmed with the thought of kissing Caspian, really, really wished that his brother would actually go back to his room, but seeing as this was the first time they’d gotten so close to actually kissing… maybe it was better this way…? Or something.
After a few minutes, once he was sure that Peter was distracted by the movie, Michael moved his hand to rest against the couch cushion, turning it so his knuckles could gently brush against the outside of Caspian’s hip, hoping he understood that he was sorry for… what? The interruption? Maybe sorry for how embarrassed Caspian was that they were walked in on?
Probably just sorry for everything…
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Posted: Wed Jul 27, 2016 6:11 pm
He could not get it out of his head.
The feel of Michael’s hand gentle against his face, the skim of fingers across his lips, barely touching; the look on Michael’s face, as though he had -
-as though he had wanted it as much as Caspian had. As if he had wanted to kiss him just as much as Caspian wanted, now, desperately, to kiss Michael John Gallo.
It was a mistake, he told himself. It was a mistake, this wasn’t right, he was simply making things up in his mind because he was an idiot. He was the one who wanted to kiss Michael, and because he did, he was simply imagining that Michael was the one who had instigated it in the first place, drawing Caspian closer, taking ahold of his hand...leaning in close…
He wanted to kiss Michael, and the truth was that he had probably wanted to kiss Michael for a very long time now.
Caspian was dimly aware of Peter in the room, and of the movie still going. Caspian couldn’t concentrate on it, though he did lift his head out of the pillow, knees drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on the pillow he had propped there. His face was still a little pink, but he was determined not to draw Peter into...whatever this was.
There were gentle fingers nudging at his hip. Michael, of course, and Caspian couldn’t look at him, not when his heart was in his throat and all he wanted to do was...more. Michael was trying to say something, and he knew, somewhere, what it meant, even if Caspian was acting ridiculous.
But he reached down, surreptitiously, while Peter’s attention was elsewhere, and gave Michael’s hand the smallest squeeze before letting go once more.
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