Re: adrian's room: adrian m/newt p
[Newt nodded. Yes, I'm all right now. His smile fidgeted on his lips, but it didn't disappear. And though contact didn't cause him pain, it was still quite unfamiliar. The caress of fingers in his hair, it felt quite nice. His eyes remained closed, gaze shuttered away behind fair lashes, and he'd've nodded, had his head not been against Adrian's.] Yes, [was his agreement about school. It was an a child's thought process—that nothing before school mattered. It was no longer what Newt believed, but he had then. He'd thought he could push it away. He'd not gone so far as to pretend it didn't happen. Rather, he defied its impact on his person, clearly, all the way up to never speaking about it with his friend.—And now? Now it was so very long ago.
That was the man's last solid thought. He felt Adrian's sable gaze on him, and Newt was fairly convinced at first that the kiss was an extension of the imagined touch. But, no. It was real. It was happening. He smiled, just a degree wider, as he returned the kiss. It was somewhat less chaste, but, it was far from lewd.—He hadn't a clue he was being considered so thoroughly by the man he was entwined with. He was fascinating himself by simply running fingers through Adrian's hair, pushing bitten-down nails over scalp. It was peculiar, to feel another's shape, to know it. Their form, gathered up in your hands. And that distracted the older man, as much as soft lips and the wet heat of a kiss.
He wouldn't've been able to tell you what the swell was as it sought sky in Adrian's chest, but Newt felt it rising. Even in that impulse-planted kiss, he felt it, as something impending. He opened his eyes, his smile seeking to further itself on his lips, when Adrian said he loved him.—Newt blinked, perplexed and bewildered and he forgot to reel himself back an inch or two, so the pair remained, forehead-to-forehead. Yellow eyes were close, then, and they ran over the panes of the face before him as the man tried to find his tongue, his words, anything. His hands pooled and settled around the back of Adrian's neck, fingers knotted.—But it was the wax-wipe of color from Adrian's face that finally spurred him to speak.] It's all right. [Another echo. It felt underwhelming this time, but Newt forged on. He loosened his grip on nape, so that he could slip a hand between their chins, so that he might touch the lips that had just confessed in a skim of touch.
Newt's heart was beating wildly in his chest, behind the veneer of a pajama shirt and jittering gaze. His mind was empty, entirely empty, but it was natural for him to soothe. He kissed Adrian, over his own fingers pressed to lips.] I'm glad you love me, darling. And lucky, [he told the other man, honestly. He felt lucky. That Adrian would want him, love him—it could only be luck. Still, even he knew it wasn't going to be the right thing. He knew it was an anchor, finding the buoy of his friend's heart, but he was trying. He curled his fingers, knuckles to the other's lips now, and he peered there, safely. His voice grew softer, nearly hushed.] I need more time. [To say it back, he meant. To reach the same peak.—He worked to meet Adrian's eye and hold it.]