miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2008-11-30 23:42:00 |
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Current mood: | thoughtful |
Current music: | Twilight soundtrack |
Fic: Last Kiss
Original poster: francine2869
Just something that I've been wanting to write ever since seeing that Thanksgiving scene. Here's hoping that our boys won't be apart for too long.
He almost stopped breathing. Luke's skin was so warm. Noah’s fingers slid lightly over his wrist before gliding up into Luke’s palm. He was tempted to stop moving, just for a second. He wanted to explore the calluses at the bottom of Luke’s fingers and compare them to the softness and vulnerability in the center of his hand. But his fingers automatically slipped in between Luke’s, fitting neatly and perfectly together as they clasped hands.
‘Breathe,’ he reminded himself. ‘In and out. Take a breath.”
Luke’s hand squeezed his and their palms pressed flat together with no space in between. The feeling was so … intimate. Comforting and arousing at the same time. Luke’s fingertips pressed into the spaces between the knuckles on the back of Noah’s hand, sending licks of heat up his arm. The skin at their wrists met, rubbing slightly, so Noah could feel the veins in Luke’s arm. Noah wanted to slide his fingertips up that skin and press against the vulnerable softness, make Luke feel the same urges and wants that his own heart was beating out at that moment.
Noah could vaguely hear Emma speaking but had no idea what she was saying. At that moment he couldn’t have said who was sitting across the table from him, who was on his left side. All he was aware of was the way he and Luke were connected, finally, once again. How long had it been since they’d touched? When had their last kiss been? It seemed vitally important at that moment that he remember.
Noah squeezed Luke’s hand until the pressure between them was almost painful, but it brought sweet relief. They were still strong. They were still connected. There were still some ways that they could communicate and not misunderstand each other. Noah felt comfort flow through him as Emma’s words trickled down. ‘Faith that sustains us. Share, love.’
Many things had changed since the last time he had given thanks at this table, but some things were still the same. Luke’s hand reluctantly pulled out of his grasp and Noah had to resist the urge to grab it back. He wanted to pull Luke’s hand, arm, his whole body into his side and sit for the rest of the afternoon cozied up together. He didn’t care that there was a large gathering of people there who would be watching them. .
But before Noah could get the courage up to make a move, the world had moved on around him. Luke was up out of his chair, offering to get some elderberry wine out of the cooler off of the porch. Food was being passed around the table and Faith was talking to him about school and his job. He pulled up a smile from somewhere inside him and turned to answer her questions.
*~*
Luke stumbled on his way out the door and quickly glanced back towards the table. It looked like no one had seen him, thank God. He escaped into the cool air on the porch, gulping down breaths like he had been suffocated. How was he supposed to do this? Even though he was sitting right next to Noah, it felt like they were miles apart. How was he supposed to sit there and ‘give thanks’ when his heart felt like it had been battered and bruised?
The beer flowing through him had mellowed him out and he thought that he’d be able to get through the evening without freaking out. Before Noah had arrived Luke had been existing in a nice alcohol-induced haze where nothing really pierced through the cloud and oblivion didn’t seem too far off. But the touch of Noah’s fingertips gliding over his skin and touching the back of his hand had almost been enough to undo him.
He could still feel the imprint of each of Noah’s fingers, of the way the fleshy parts of Noah’s palm had pressed into his own. His skin felt warm and flushed and not just from the alcohol. Luke leaned against one of the wooden posts, crossing his arms over his front. His stomach was in knots and he dreaded the though of going back into the kitchen and eating a huge meal. But at the same time he wanted to race back to his chair beside Noah and subtly shift the piece of furniture closer to the left as he sat down. Maybe he could brush his thigh against Noah’s as they ate, carelessly brush his arm with a fingertip.
Time passed without Luke being really aware and he only noticed that he was supposed to be someplace when he heard his father call his name.
“Luke! Where’s that wine?”
“Coming Dad!”
He took a quick swig of the beer he had hidden earlier, replaced it and grabbed the wine bottle. He took a deep breath before stepping back into the kitchen and was careful not to trip or stumble over the doorjamb. His eyes shot automatically, helplessly to Noah but he was already in conversation with Faith and didn’t look up. Was this what the future going to be like? Noah involved with Luke’s family and friends but apart from Luke? Close but not close enough? Could Luke survive like that? Only time would truly tell.