In the sudden rush of them becoming friends and then roommates, the months it’s taken to bring them here seem like an eternity. Honestly, this is the first time Xavier’s waited months for someone he wanted from almost the first moment. Not the exact first moment, but after that when Gaspard looked up suddenly from the record sleeve he was holding and frowned.
“I was supposed to meet someone,” he said, like he was apologizing to Xavier for it.
“A girl?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Gaspard admitted, saying her name.
“Your girlfriend?” Xavier asked in return.
Gaspard had laughed, in an embarrassed way that Xavier could see right through.
And in that moment, he’d learned that this man with excellent taste in music would rather spend time with him, an interesting stranger, than some girl he was seeing. But by the time they’d left the store, hours later, he was more interested in Gaspard’s taste in music than in the flattery of being picked over someone else — for all the romance that held.
Now, he was completely invested. If he fucked this up, he was fucking up his art. He was also fucking up any chance of getting his stuff back, because at this point there were shirts and jeans and records that didn’t actually belong to either of them. And one of them would have to move if this went off badly and how shit would that be?
It wasn’t that Xavier thought he’d fuck up on purpose, but he was used to sleeping with people he didn’t plan to talk to afterwards and not the first person he’d met who could finish his sentences — with a bit of a stammer — before they were out of his mouth. And Gaspard came home a lot smelling like perfume, never cologne. There was definitely too much room to fuck it up and Xavier was a bit, well, scared.
But then Gaspard let himself be kissed. Not a casual kiss, because they’d shared those before, as friends. No, Gaspard was letting Xavier kiss him like he’d wanted to from that first moment. He’d been so charmed, he’d have done anything. Nothing had changed.
Gaspard kisses back, with his tongue touching cautiously against Xavier’s lips and then brushing past them. Xavier sighs and groans, like it’s been forever. He pulls back and laughs at himself, all nerves and sharp edges. There’s a smile, earnest and honest and happy, as Gaspard brushes a bit of his hair off his forehead even though it will only fall back into his eyes later.
He’s hard like he hasn’t gotten laid since they met, or something, which is an outrageous exaggeration. But, fuck him, it feels like none of that matters or counts because when Gaspard pulls off his shirt he can feel every nerve light up with sparks. It’s there in their kisses too, like nothing he’s ever felt or wanted.
They wander around the place in states of undress all the time, but Gaspard’s looking at his naked chest and half-open fly with the widest eyes. But Xavier can’t stop touching the fine curls that cover his chest and travel down his belly, and he’s not even going to try. They’re soft and maybe it’s weird, because it’s sort of like petting but he’s allowed. And maybe that’s it, Xavier almost wants to ask. He’s been looking every chance he got, but maybe Gaspard hasn’t even given himself that much permission.
He straddles Gaspard’s legs and is maybe a little clumsy grabbing him by the wrist.
“I want to show you something,” Xavier explains. Then he drags his tongue up Gaspard’s palm, tasting the salt of his sweat. He draws the point of it up one finger before kissing the tip and pushing it past his lips. “Oh,” Gaspard says, in the softest tone of voice.
He moves his hand, fingers pushing against Xavier’s tongue toward the back of his throat. Xavier twists his tongue around and between them, touching the folds of skin on top of thick knuckles and the edge of cuticle and nail. When Gaspard reaches far enough, fingers touching that empty open space at the back of his throat, Xavier sucks until his cheeks hollow out.
Gaspard makes a little sound like a squeak. The mood breaks suddenly with both of them laughing. But it’s not nervous, not anymore, and any doubt about where this is going has disappeared. Wet fingers linger on Xavier’s lips, tracing the edges. He purses his lips in a kiss against them. Then, as he leans in, Gaspard pulls him in.
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timeasmymeasure
Touch Me 1/2
Date: 2011-04-28 05:02 pm (UTC)“I was supposed to meet someone,” he said, like he was apologizing to Xavier for it.
“A girl?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Gaspard admitted, saying her name.
“Your girlfriend?” Xavier asked in return.
Gaspard had laughed, in an embarrassed way that Xavier could see right through.
And in that moment, he’d learned that this man with excellent taste in music would rather spend time with him, an interesting stranger, than some girl he was seeing. But by the time they’d left the store, hours later, he was more interested in Gaspard’s taste in music than in the flattery of being picked over someone else — for all the romance that held.
Now, he was completely invested. If he fucked this up, he was fucking up his art. He was also fucking up any chance of getting his stuff back, because at this point there were shirts and jeans and records that didn’t actually belong to either of them. And one of them would have to move if this went off badly and how shit would that be?
It wasn’t that Xavier thought he’d fuck up on purpose, but he was used to sleeping with people he didn’t plan to talk to afterwards and not the first person he’d met who could finish his sentences — with a bit of a stammer — before they were out of his mouth. And Gaspard came home a lot smelling like perfume, never cologne. There was definitely too much room to fuck it up and Xavier was a bit, well, scared.
But then Gaspard let himself be kissed. Not a casual kiss, because they’d shared those before, as friends. No, Gaspard was letting Xavier kiss him like he’d wanted to from that first moment. He’d been so charmed, he’d have done anything. Nothing had changed.
Gaspard kisses back, with his tongue touching cautiously against Xavier’s lips and then brushing past them. Xavier sighs and groans, like it’s been forever. He pulls back and laughs at himself, all nerves and sharp edges. There’s a smile, earnest and honest and happy, as Gaspard brushes a bit of his hair off his forehead even though it will only fall back into his eyes later.
He’s hard like he hasn’t gotten laid since they met, or something, which is an outrageous exaggeration. But, fuck him, it feels like none of that matters or counts because when Gaspard pulls off his shirt he can feel every nerve light up with sparks. It’s there in their kisses too, like nothing he’s ever felt or wanted.
They wander around the place in states of undress all the time, but Gaspard’s looking at his naked chest and half-open fly with the widest eyes. But Xavier can’t stop touching the fine curls that cover his chest and travel down his belly, and he’s not even going to try. They’re soft and maybe it’s weird, because it’s sort of like petting but he’s allowed. And maybe that’s it, Xavier almost wants to ask. He’s been looking every chance he got, but maybe Gaspard hasn’t even given himself that much permission.
He straddles Gaspard’s legs and is maybe a little clumsy grabbing him by the wrist.
“I want to show you something,” Xavier explains. Then he drags his tongue up Gaspard’s palm, tasting the salt of his sweat. He draws the point of it up one finger before kissing the tip and pushing it past his lips.
“Oh,” Gaspard says, in the softest tone of voice.
He moves his hand, fingers pushing against Xavier’s tongue toward the back of his throat. Xavier twists his tongue around and between them, touching the folds of skin on top of thick knuckles and the edge of cuticle and nail. When Gaspard reaches far enough, fingers touching that empty open space at the back of his throat, Xavier sucks until his cheeks hollow out.
Gaspard makes a little sound like a squeak. The mood breaks suddenly with both of them laughing. But it’s not nervous, not anymore, and any doubt about where this is going has disappeared. Wet fingers linger on Xavier’s lips, tracing the edges. He purses his lips in a kiss against them. Then, as he leans in, Gaspard pulls him in.