[ Matt met Steve for the first time the other day--out in the garden, if his sugared-over memory serves. He remembers him fresh, limned in morning sunlight, golden. How could you not want to be had by him? To become part of him, for a little glimmer of forever?
On the one hand: Steve is touching him. Saying he should talk to him. Those things are good. On the other: Mat can't shake the sense that Steve is rejecting him. Gently and sweetly, yes, but he doesn't eat. He won't even taste. ]
Why can't you? [ Matt can hear how desperate he sounds, how heart-lorn, and it embarrasses him. He tries so hard not to let other people know how enrapturing he finds them. How badly he craves their touch. ] Aren't you hungry?
[ He flips his hand around, trying to catch Steve's fingers. His wrist, if Steve insists on keeping hold of the cake he's miracled from his thigh. Matt's fingertips are stained cherry red, but their touch is as intuitive as ever. Attentive to tender spots and points of contact. ]
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On the one hand: Steve is touching him. Saying he should talk to him. Those things are good. On the other: Mat can't shake the sense that Steve is rejecting him. Gently and sweetly, yes, but he doesn't eat. He won't even taste. ]
Why can't you? [ Matt can hear how desperate he sounds, how heart-lorn, and it embarrasses him. He tries so hard not to let other people know how enrapturing he finds them. How badly he craves their touch. ] Aren't you hungry?
[ He flips his hand around, trying to catch Steve's fingers. His wrist, if Steve insists on keeping hold of the cake he's miracled from his thigh. Matt's fingertips are stained cherry red, but their touch is as intuitive as ever. Attentive to tender spots and points of contact. ]
I'll be good. If you just try.