for Matt

[tohearthesound]

Two flights up and turn left; halfway down the hall is room 122. Rache unlocks the door and holds it open

Comments

[tantric_slacker]

Matt enters prepared to be charmed, and is.

(He's a longtime bookworm, albeit not in the traditional sense. He can dig it.)

"Ah," he says, of the Shakespeare.

"Did you ever get to the end of Julius Caesar?"

[tantric_slacker]

In fact, Matt finds he has ample time upon finishing the Guinness to pause, and swallow, and look at Rache.

And look at the glass.

And look at the nightstand.

And ultimately drop the glass as gently as possible onto the ground-- though gravity is more or less an equal-opportunity force of nature, and so it makes an unseemly noise.

[tohearthesound]

"What did that poor glass ever do to you?"

Rache sounds positively mournful.

[tantric_slacker]

"It ... was ... less attractive than you?"

Especially with all the beer gone.

[tohearthesound]

An excellent answer like that really deserves an appropriate response.

Kisses, for example.

[tantric_slacker]

For the win!

Matt is really incredibly happy with kisses. His tongue may help to convey some of this.

[tohearthesound]

Rache makes a pleased hum in return. His hand tightens subtly on Matt's hip.

[tantric_slacker]

Of course, Rache is dangerous.

He's dangerous in ways he might not want to cop to, but it's a fact he's dangerous, and it's an additional fact that Matt has an ever-lengthening history of making dubious sex-partner-related decisions.

He remembers thinking this is me. He's still not sure if he was wrong.

All of this is to say that he tilts his head and reaches for Rache's shoulder, swaying deeper into their kiss.

[tohearthesound]

The problem with being dangerous is that so many things are still a danger to you.

Even Matt.

By which we mean that Rache slides his free hand into Matt's hair and kisses back until the need for breath makes him stop.

[tantric_slacker]

Matt draws in a quick, very deep breath, as if he's preparing to hold his breath underwater.

And laughs, faint and like a gasp. By now, one of his hands is at Rache's arm and the other one is poised at the back of his neck. His fingers brush curiously at the ends of Rache's hair. (Or beginnings, he supposes. Now is not the time to get semantic.)

[tohearthesound]

Rache grins, rests his forehead against Matt's.

He arches his neck into the touch with a faint, encouraging sound.

[tantric_slacker]

Matt smiles, letting his fingers drift. They stroke over Rache's hair, then dig in deeper in a gentle massage.

[tohearthesound]

"Oh."

He groans softly at the increase in pressure.

[tantric_slacker]

"Mmm," Matt agrees pleasantly, without stopping. The proximity of their faces makes him feel (all supernatural misgivings aside) warm, and very close.

[tohearthesound]

His shoulders drop as he leans a little more heavily into Matt.

"'S nice."

In case that wasn't clear.

[tantric_slacker]

Matt murmurs, "Good."

His fingers keep kneading, but he draws his nose down Rache's cheek and presses a kiss to his jaw.