General Relativity fic
Alfred had things to say, a million more things to say - “I know” and “There’s nothing else to talk about” and “Oh god what are we doing,” but he couldn’t find the breath to say them. Something vicious and tight was squeezing his lungs, something he vaguely recognized as hope. Matthew was too close, or possibly not close enough, but he was getting closer.
Their lips met, half a moment after it has occurred to Alfred to close his eyes. It was surreal, it was strange - it was the inevitable feeling of a first kiss, the simultaneous This is it? And This is it.
It was perfect, and it was terrifying.
This is wrong, Alfred thought, and it was more the fear of how little conviction those words held in his head that led him to try to squirm away. He squirmed, and thought He’s my student. But Matthew’s weight was as heavy and real as the breath on his cheek, as the “Don’t,” whispered against him as he tried to push Matthew away (as though there was anything he wanted less in the world than to push Matthew away.)
He’s my student, Alfred thought, and he tried to connect that thought with the man pressed against him. I’m his professor. He’s my student. That thought, with the hand that stroked against his jaw, almost making him shiver all over again. He tried to pull it away, without an ounce of conviction behind the pull. He’s my - he’s -
No.
No, he’s Matthew.
Suddenly it wasn’t gravity holding him to the earth, and it wasn’t the stars that wrapped around him.
No, that was all Matthew.
Oh, he thought, as this mouth opened.
Oh.
He surprised himself with the small, startled moan as he stopped thinking and started doing. His hands went to comb through Matthew’s hair and caught there instead, grasping, feeling it, completely real in his hands. He felt himself arch and shiver and explore, pressing, searching.
That tight feeling, that hope, had exploded in his chest into something that felt like it was determined to consume him whole and fly away with him.
When they broke apart, with a shared gasp for air, Alfred still didn’t feel entirely like gravity had kicked in yet, like the earth could possibly still be spinning. Matthew’s lower lip was shiny with spit and the moon lit his eyes just enough to be seen, and he looked like hope was about to consume him whole too, and Alfred knew that this was real.
“That,” Matthew said, his shaking fingers brushing Alfred’s lips with what might have been awe, “worked a lot better than talking.”
God, but he had to agree.
I'm going to go back to hiding in my anonymous...ness.... now.
Their lips met, half a moment after it has occurred to Alfred to close his eyes. It was surreal, it was strange - it was the inevitable feeling of a first kiss, the simultaneous This is it? And This is it.
It was perfect, and it was terrifying.
This is wrong, Alfred thought, and it was more the fear of how little conviction those words held in his head that led him to try to squirm away. He squirmed, and thought He’s my student. But Matthew’s weight was as heavy and real as the breath on his cheek, as the “Don’t,” whispered against him as he tried to push Matthew away (as though there was anything he wanted less in the world than to push Matthew away.)
He’s my student, Alfred thought, and he tried to connect that thought with the man pressed against him. I’m his professor. He’s my student. That thought, with the hand that stroked against his jaw, almost making him shiver all over again. He tried to pull it away, without an ounce of conviction behind the pull. He’s my - he’s -
No.
No, he’s Matthew.
Suddenly it wasn’t gravity holding him to the earth, and it wasn’t the stars that wrapped around him.
No, that was all Matthew.
Oh, he thought, as this mouth opened.
Oh.
He surprised himself with the small, startled moan as he stopped thinking and started doing. His hands went to comb through Matthew’s hair and caught there instead, grasping, feeling it, completely real in his hands. He felt himself arch and shiver and explore, pressing, searching.
That tight feeling, that hope, had exploded in his chest into something that felt like it was determined to consume him whole and fly away with him.
When they broke apart, with a shared gasp for air, Alfred still didn’t feel entirely like gravity had kicked in yet, like the earth could possibly still be spinning. Matthew’s lower lip was shiny with spit and the moon lit his eyes just enough to be seen, and he looked like hope was about to consume him whole too, and Alfred knew that this was real.
“That,” Matthew said, his shaking fingers brushing Alfred’s lips with what might have been awe, “worked a lot better than talking.”
God, but he had to agree.
I'm going to go back to hiding in my anonymous...ness.... now.