[He listens, docile in the hold as he's gathered up into Cy's lap — and to his own humiliation, he finds himself sheltering closer like a child in search of comfort. Panic attack, Cy tells him. A foreign phrase for a common enough phenomenon in his life.
Yet he tries, as always, to follow Cy's instruction. It's easy because Cy's hand is very warm; he can feel how their fingers thread together in a touch rapidly becoming a steady fixture of his life. He consciously attempts to loosen the clench of knuckles, until only the pressure of Cy's grip keeps their hands together. Then he considers how warm the rest of Cy is through the blanket, and how much he's come to enjoy pressing himself up against that center of heat, leanly carved muscle and smooth skin and the barest scrape of stubbling hair. For intimacy not only sexual, not only what this place demands of them — but for the mere security of a physical presence at his side.
When he's done, he thirsts and aches but he is not cold. Cy makes certain of that. The water is sipped, the pills taken.]
I want to stay with you tonight.
[It's a quiet voice, tone asking, but still a great leap from the last time they had discussed sharing space.]
no subject
Yet he tries, as always, to follow Cy's instruction. It's easy because Cy's hand is very warm; he can feel how their fingers thread together in a touch rapidly becoming a steady fixture of his life. He consciously attempts to loosen the clench of knuckles, until only the pressure of Cy's grip keeps their hands together. Then he considers how warm the rest of Cy is through the blanket, and how much he's come to enjoy pressing himself up against that center of heat, leanly carved muscle and smooth skin and the barest scrape of stubbling hair. For intimacy not only sexual, not only what this place demands of them — but for the mere security of a physical presence at his side.
When he's done, he thirsts and aches but he is not cold. Cy makes certain of that. The water is sipped, the pills taken.]
I want to stay with you tonight.
[It's a quiet voice, tone asking, but still a great leap from the last time they had discussed sharing space.]