Re: [Outside the Rec Center.]
It wasn't that much deeper. Noah's 'thing.' Intense, yeah. A little broader, involving memories and stuff. But, it wasn't deeper. Not really. When you got in a loop, maybe you couldn't tell end from end, and Noah couldn't always tell the delineation between himself and Holly, which was probably bizarre to some people, but it was how it'd always been for him. It didn't really make much of a difference, not that he could see. He behaved as he behaved, because it was how he behaved. Holly's wants influenced Noah's, no doubt. But, it was actually much easier when it was aimed at him, than say, Bea. Where he couldn't differentiate between his desire to fuck Bea and Holly's desire. He knew he didn't want to fuck himself, so that was Holly's. Being glad he, Noah, was here: Holly's. He could move through that, you know? And he knew what he wanted in inverse. It was, in a weird way, one of the few ways for him to, like, be selfish. Not that he was doing it intentionally.
Breaking the kiss was hard, but it was sprung on him, no fissure of thought to belie it, and Noah was confused. His thought process was the simple thought process involved when blood began to move toward cock: if it feels good, why stop? He slumped back against the gray paint of the Jeep, and he huffed a little. He wasn't actually, like, for real put out. And he wrinkled his nose at the amusement that glinted across Holly's face. Noah was nothing if not emotive. But, he knew Holly wanted to look. And, he, selfishly, wanted to watch Holly look. He wondered if he'd be able to see any signs of interest betrayed.
As the thoughts came to him, Noah voiced them. "Big feet. Leggings? Should've looked at my legs when you could." He gestured idly to his own crotch, made modest by the length of the windbreaker. The thought that illustrated was a given. "Broad. I'm broad. But, not bulky. Touching vee. Hair. Where hair is. Arms..., hands..., armpits." Noah grinned, because he had an idea of how annoying it must be, even if he couldn't really get it. (He did have years of experience of people reacting, generally, super poorly to his accidentally letting stuff slip. He knew it was an invasion, dude, but he couldn't stop it.) "I'll take my shirt off," he offered, meaning it, so Holly could run his hands over hair and skin. It'd be fucking freezing, but maybe it'd help chill Noah's building hard-on, which wasn't going to chill otherwise, vampire gramps or no.
The most important part of all of this was that Holly's gaze was warm. It wasn't the anger and disgust from before. It wasn't even the booze-free openness of the bed last night. It was a modulated warmth, but it was warmth all the same. Noah lifted his hands when Holly started to move, and he was ready to fold him up against his chest in a swipe and swish of fabric. "You should see the hair on my ass." Holly would be into it, he knew it, and he grinned smugly about that for the instant he could. When lathe of tongue followed his scar, Noah lifted his head from the Jeep. He let himself have the wet warmth for a second, then he turned his cheek toward Holly's and captured his lips, if able.
As he broke his lips apart, he took one of Holly's hands and he led it under the warm fabric of windbreaker and hoodie, to the trail of hair under navel on his belly. He dragged Holly's fingers along it, then let him go, so he could bring both his hands low on the dude's back and press him forward.