[ when justin first came to eudio, he'd had a plan and for the most part, it was simple: make a couple friends, hold a couple hands, fuck a couple strangers ( because he'd had it in his head that rule number one from home still applied - never fuck the same person twice - when it didn't, and it took him a little longer than it should have for him to realize that ), and then once the reps notified him that he'd generated his fair share of energy, he'd pack up and go home and ( most, if not ) all of his problems would be solved.
of course, plans that seem too simple always turn out to be far more complicated than anyone wants, and if you asked justin how he came to be here, sitting at the end of his bed next to raphael with his fingers pressed against the inside of his wrist and his heart beating fast enough and hard enough to make up for the lack of a pulse underneath his fingertips - he'd tell you that he didn't know.
he couldn't tell you what it is about raphael that he finds so interesting and captivating and charming, only that he is all of those things, and more. and even if he could tell you, he probably wouldn't, because he'd prefer to keep the mystery between himself and raphael.
justin looks at where his fingers are resting, light and warm against pale and cold, and it should probably bother him that raphael is so cool to the touch, but it doesn't. it hadn't bothered him the first time he'd touched his fingers to his jaw under pandemonium's flashing lights what feels like forever ago, and there's nothing about it that makes him uncomfortable now, either.
the sound of raphael's voice draws his attention upward, only high enough to watch his mouth as he speaks - because that's what you do when someone's speaking to you, isn't it? you watch their mouth?
you watch their eyes. you definitely watch their eyes, but perhaps what makes him the semi-decent artist he is is his ability to look at things a little bit differently.
justin's lips part just a fraction as he draws in a quiet breath. his eyes fall again, back to his fingers, back to his thumb as he smooths the pad of it over where raphael's pulse should be but isn't. the rest of his fingers press into and ghost across the center of his palm, but justin's always been a little handsy when it comes to raphael.
he wets his lips and then looks up, finding it surprisingly easy and difficult to look raphael in the eyes, and even easier to spread his fingers out until they settle in the spaces between raphael's before he leans in and gently presses their mouths together. ]
[ he can sense the anticipation in the air, hear the faint pound of justin's heart, feel it in every one of his fingertips where they touch raphael's skin. there's no confusing this, no brushing it off. they are building to something, and it's only taking seconds. something in him wants to warn against this. something else wants to throw caution to the wind.
raphael's experiences with feelings like this are few and far between, almost always caught in a gray area between something he wanted and something he thought he wanted. he'd kissed a girl he'd met at church when he was fifteen, young and still unaware of where he would be in a few years time, and afterwards wished he hadn't. he'd felt camille's fingers slide against the back of his neck and thought not that he could love her, but that maybe he should. he's found people here in the city that he craves the company of, but why is a long, drawn-out question that he's afraid too many will not want to wait for. how many will dislike the answer if it lands in the realm of friendship?
this, here and now, has taken time, but there's no question that justin's fingers sliding along his palm is something he wants, something that he would rather not call friendship. if he feels any hesitation, it's simply because he hadn't really expected this, hadn't prepared himself for the possibility.
raphael is never not prepared, never not on guard, and yet here he is, a fracture in his armor beginning in the palm of his hand and running up his arm and parting his lips under justin's mouth. it's almost too easy. his chin tilts so justin can more easily find his mark, a tentative movement that doesn't demand but seeks out, not merely allowing the kiss but inviting it. mindful of teeth, he kisses back, his fingers curling to hold justin's hand properly.
everywhere they touch is a fierce clash of cold and hot, and raphael hopes, helplessly, that it doesn't matter. it shouldn't matter. ]
[ there's a part of justin that thinks maybe he shouldn't be doing this, maybe he should have offered raphael something more practical and material and realistic, like a drawing or one of the brushes he used to paint the mural covering the wall behind them — something that'll last and has significance instead of... this. there's every possibility that he could have just crossed a line that, for him, has steadily been growing blurrier and blurrier to the point that it's not so much a line anymore than it is a ghost of a suggestion. there's every chance that this might not be the way raphael wants to remember him at all.
every one of justin's worries fade the moment he feels raphael's lips part under his own, the subtle tilt of his chin encouraging as their mouths fit together as if they were always meant to. justin breathes in through his nose and he has to take a moment to appreciate the strange beauty that is raphael. how can someone who's practically dead make him feel so alive? how can someone who never had the chance to truly live make him feel like he could live forever? how is it that the sun can kiss the moon and the world can keep on spinning?
justin's fingers curl tight in the spaces between raphael's, his thumb smoothing a warm line over cool skin — and it doesn't matter, not to justin, that they're practically polar opposites. if anything, the contrast of warm and cold just helps to keep him grounded, keeps him from spinning out of orbit. if anything, he likes it probably more than he should.
twisting slightly, justin presses in a little, catching raphael's lower lip between his own. he's not so mindful of his own teeth, letting them scrape gently over his lip as he lifts his other hand to cup the side of raphael's neck, palm warm against the column of his throat and his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw where it swoops up toward his ear. ]
[ memory is a curious thing for someone like raphael. in truth, his immortality has only really begun. there are humans as old as and older than him, many with more worldly experience under their belts. and yet, he already feels a certain urgency to make sure some moments will last long after they're over, years or decades or centuries in the future. he doesn't know just how long a life he'll lead, but already, so many things have faded, shriveling into mere wisps of taste, touch, sound. others remain, almost as clear as the day he'd experienced them.
the moment he'd stared into a pool of sunlight and decided it was the best and only solution to what stretched out in front of him is a memory he wishes he could filter out, but other, better images remain too. a birthday party in the kitchen of his oldest home. the soft heartbreak of a reunion held on a certain doorstep. the look of private respect magnus bane had offered him across the foyer of the hotel.
raphael can't know for sure in the moment, when so much of his focus is pinned under justin's lips and hands and the reality of this, but he thinks that this will be another memory that time won't be able to touch.
the heat of justin is almost startling, and a voice in raphael's mind wants to focus on how different they are, how strange this marrying of alive and not so alive could be. another voice, the one he allows to grow louder, tells him this warmth is here because justin is offering it and offering it gladly. all in all, physical touch is not something he craves often, but there is nothing wrong with it now, now that justin has become an indisputable part of raphael's life, unexpected as it was. it feels safe in a way that is wholly unfamiliar, too much and yet just enough at once.
the drag of justin's teeth over his lip is a distinct indication that he knows, more than raphael, what he's doing, and so raphael allows himself to be lead, pressing into the fluid shifts between kissing and being kissed. he nearly shivers when the hand appears at his neck, the skin sensitive, untouched for so long. if anything, it's accustomed to teeth more than fingertips. his own hand catches at justin's wrist, not to pull it away, but to feel it there. justin's heartbeat pounds loud enough that it seems to reverberate in raphael's chest.
he breathes in, draws back a fraction. ]
Justin.
[ his voice is a whisper but it doesn't waver. he's seeking reassurance, confidence from justin that he hasn't made a mistake. ]
[ there are only a small handful of times that justin's ever been unsure of himself, neck-deep in his self-doubt and drained of any self-confidence in nearly every aspect of his life. they're moments he wishes, sometimes, that he could forget, even if looking back on them reminds him of all the things he's overcome, all the things that have shaped him into who he is today.
this, right now, is not one of those moments. this, right here, is not something justin thinks he'll ever want to forget. the casual back and forth, almost-playful bantering, the intimacy of sharing his art, sketches and drawings no one else has seen before - and the way his fingers fit so nicely into the spaces between raphael's, the way their mouths fit together just as nicely.
justin may have more experience when it comes to this sort of thing, but all that means is that he knows how to sense and set a pace that, hopefully, isn't too fast or too much. raphael kisses just fine (and fine is somewhat of an understatement if he's honest, even if everything so far is soft and slow), and justin falls into it easily, pressing in to chase after a little more, just a tiny bit more, and letting raphael lean in to take what he wants, when he wants.
cool fingers sliding around his wrist tug him toward the surface, but it's the sound of his name that breaks the tension and justin suddenly feels... unsure. uncertain and unclear and like maybe he's fucked this up really badly - whatever this is, whatever it was.
his fingers curl slightly against the side of raphael's neck, blunt nails ghosting against cool skin, his eyes still closed. his lips part like he means to say something, but he just swallows thickly instead, finally opening his eyes. he doesn't lift his gaze right away, breathing out slowly as his thumb unconsciously smooths a slow line against the side of raphael's hand, fingers still linked together.
justin lifts his hand away from the side of raphael's neck just an inch, just enough so that they're not touching anymore, because he assumes that's what the hand around his wrist is about - putting a stop to something he made too many assumptions about. ]
Shit, [ he breathes, a small rush of air, an apologetic sigh of a word. he swallows again, wets his lips. ] I'm sorry.
[ but he's not. not really. he's not sorry for liking raphael, he's not sorry for finding him interesting or charming or intriguing, and he's not sorry for somehow coming to trust him with things like his art. he's not sorry for kissing raphael, either, but he's sorry for misunderstanding. he's sorry for doing something that's probably going to screw up whatever friendship they'd built despite the odds. ]
I should have, um - I should have... asked, instead of just.
[ he ends the sentence in the middle before he winds up rambling and making things awkward and uncomfortable, more than they probably already are. ]
Edited (don't mind me fixin' typos) 2017-08-15 14:38 (UTC)
[ raphael does shiver now, the drag of nails against his skin acute and remarkable in a way that barely make sense to him. he looks at justin under hooded lids, here where their noses still touch, and waits to see his eyes. he can feel his breath, hear the thrash of blood; raphael seems to forget all the places they touch. at the moment, it feels like everywhere.
justin's hand lifts from his neck and raphael realizes immediately that he should have let the kiss go on, that interrupting it now has shaken them both. that's the last thing he wanted. this he knows despite the fact that the last twenty seconds have taken his old wants and turned them into unrecognizable things. raphael's grip on justin's wrist tightens just so, not enough to hurt, not enough to make justin regret this any more, but enough to discourage him from completely pulling away. his thumb mirrors justin before he can really think about it, rubbing up and down along the soft skin at the inside of justin's wrist. ]
No. [ he starts before justin can go any further, a soft shred of characteristic exasperation escaping with the word. it's not directed towards justin, though. it's at his own doubt, his need not to let this get away from him. ] I wanted you to.
[ it's possible he hadn't even realized it before, not in the moment leading up to justin's mouth seeking his. but he'd been waiting for something; waiting for orbits to cross, waiting for shadows to shift, waiting for this solar eclipse of a kiss.
and as such, he should have confronted it long ago. it's not like raphael santiago to shy away from truth, but maybe he can be forgiven here. it's not often that he falls so wholly into things like this, things that could very well be called love. it'll remain nameless for now. he can only be expected to hold so much within the cavern of his chest.
raphael sighs, breath stuttering a little, and then focuses on justin's face. ]
I don't want sex. [ his teeth clack together. it's abrupt and he knows it, a further jump than perhaps justin was expecting, but if he's going to be honest, he won't do it halfway. he's distracted for a moment by how bright justin's eyes look now, wondering if he'd done that, wondering if his look the same. he swallows thickly, gaze dropping as he recollects himself. ]
But this— [ the fingers he has wrapped around justin's wrist slide up to his hand and then press his warm palm back to the column of raphael's throat. in an instant, justin's pulse rumbles louder in raphael's ears, a rhythmic proclamation of life, life, life. he pauses here, hoping that justin's fingertips will settle again against cold skin. ]
I should have known before. I need this. [ with all the surety in the world, gaze steady, lips pressed firmly together. it sounds so simple, but maybe here and now, it can be. nevermind what comes later. he has learned after long years of wanting to be a leader to exude confidence. he knows it makes people listen to him even when faced with crisis, death, war. he has to hope justin listens to him now, when they're faced only with each other. this certainty he feels all the way down to old bones and venomous blood. a small shake of his head. ] I need to not forget.
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no subject
of course, plans that seem too simple always turn out to be far more complicated than anyone wants, and if you asked justin how he came to be here, sitting at the end of his bed next to raphael with his fingers pressed against the inside of his wrist and his heart beating fast enough and hard enough to make up for the lack of a pulse underneath his fingertips - he'd tell you that he didn't know.
he couldn't tell you what it is about raphael that he finds so interesting and captivating and charming, only that he is all of those things, and more. and even if he could tell you, he probably wouldn't, because he'd prefer to keep the mystery between himself and raphael.
justin looks at where his fingers are resting, light and warm against pale and cold, and it should probably bother him that raphael is so cool to the touch, but it doesn't. it hadn't bothered him the first time he'd touched his fingers to his jaw under pandemonium's flashing lights what feels like forever ago, and there's nothing about it that makes him uncomfortable now, either.
the sound of raphael's voice draws his attention upward, only high enough to watch his mouth as he speaks - because that's what you do when someone's speaking to you, isn't it? you watch their mouth?
you watch their eyes. you definitely watch their eyes, but perhaps what makes him the semi-decent artist he is is his ability to look at things a little bit differently.
justin's lips part just a fraction as he draws in a quiet breath. his eyes fall again, back to his fingers, back to his thumb as he smooths the pad of it over where raphael's pulse should be but isn't. the rest of his fingers press into and ghost across the center of his palm, but justin's always been a little handsy when it comes to raphael.
he wets his lips and then looks up, finding it surprisingly easy and difficult to look raphael in the eyes, and even easier to spread his fingers out until they settle in the spaces between raphael's before he leans in and gently presses their mouths together. ]
no subject
raphael's experiences with feelings like this are few and far between, almost always caught in a gray area between something he wanted and something he thought he wanted. he'd kissed a girl he'd met at church when he was fifteen, young and still unaware of where he would be in a few years time, and afterwards wished he hadn't. he'd felt camille's fingers slide against the back of his neck and thought not that he could love her, but that maybe he should. he's found people here in the city that he craves the company of, but why is a long, drawn-out question that he's afraid too many will not want to wait for. how many will dislike the answer if it lands in the realm of friendship?
this, here and now, has taken time, but there's no question that justin's fingers sliding along his palm is something he wants, something that he would rather not call friendship. if he feels any hesitation, it's simply because he hadn't really expected this, hadn't prepared himself for the possibility.
raphael is never not prepared, never not on guard, and yet here he is, a fracture in his armor beginning in the palm of his hand and running up his arm and parting his lips under justin's mouth. it's almost too easy. his chin tilts so justin can more easily find his mark, a tentative movement that doesn't demand but seeks out, not merely allowing the kiss but inviting it. mindful of teeth, he kisses back, his fingers curling to hold justin's hand properly.
everywhere they touch is a fierce clash of cold and hot, and raphael hopes, helplessly, that it doesn't matter. it shouldn't matter. ]
no subject
every one of justin's worries fade the moment he feels raphael's lips part under his own, the subtle tilt of his chin encouraging as their mouths fit together as if they were always meant to. justin breathes in through his nose and he has to take a moment to appreciate the strange beauty that is raphael. how can someone who's practically dead make him feel so alive? how can someone who never had the chance to truly live make him feel like he could live forever? how is it that the sun can kiss the moon and the world can keep on spinning?
justin's fingers curl tight in the spaces between raphael's, his thumb smoothing a warm line over cool skin — and it doesn't matter, not to justin, that they're practically polar opposites. if anything, the contrast of warm and cold just helps to keep him grounded, keeps him from spinning out of orbit. if anything, he likes it probably more than he should.
twisting slightly, justin presses in a little, catching raphael's lower lip between his own. he's not so mindful of his own teeth, letting them scrape gently over his lip as he lifts his other hand to cup the side of raphael's neck, palm warm against the column of his throat and his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw where it swoops up toward his ear. ]
no subject
the moment he'd stared into a pool of sunlight and decided it was the best and only solution to what stretched out in front of him is a memory he wishes he could filter out, but other, better images remain too. a birthday party in the kitchen of his oldest home. the soft heartbreak of a reunion held on a certain doorstep. the look of private respect magnus bane had offered him across the foyer of the hotel.
raphael can't know for sure in the moment, when so much of his focus is pinned under justin's lips and hands and the reality of this, but he thinks that this will be another memory that time won't be able to touch.
the heat of justin is almost startling, and a voice in raphael's mind wants to focus on how different they are, how strange this marrying of alive and not so alive could be. another voice, the one he allows to grow louder, tells him this warmth is here because justin is offering it and offering it gladly. all in all, physical touch is not something he craves often, but there is nothing wrong with it now, now that justin has become an indisputable part of raphael's life, unexpected as it was. it feels safe in a way that is wholly unfamiliar, too much and yet just enough at once.
the drag of justin's teeth over his lip is a distinct indication that he knows, more than raphael, what he's doing, and so raphael allows himself to be lead, pressing into the fluid shifts between kissing and being kissed. he nearly shivers when the hand appears at his neck, the skin sensitive, untouched for so long. if anything, it's accustomed to teeth more than fingertips. his own hand catches at justin's wrist, not to pull it away, but to feel it there. justin's heartbeat pounds loud enough that it seems to reverberate in raphael's chest.
he breathes in, draws back a fraction. ]
Justin.
[ his voice is a whisper but it doesn't waver. he's seeking reassurance, confidence from justin that he hasn't made a mistake. ]
no subject
this, right now, is not one of those moments. this, right here, is not something justin thinks he'll ever want to forget. the casual back and forth, almost-playful bantering, the intimacy of sharing his art, sketches and drawings no one else has seen before - and the way his fingers fit so nicely into the spaces between raphael's, the way their mouths fit together just as nicely.
justin may have more experience when it comes to this sort of thing, but all that means is that he knows how to sense and set a pace that, hopefully, isn't too fast or too much. raphael kisses just fine (and fine is somewhat of an understatement if he's honest, even if everything so far is soft and slow), and justin falls into it easily, pressing in to chase after a little more, just a tiny bit more, and letting raphael lean in to take what he wants, when he wants.
cool fingers sliding around his wrist tug him toward the surface, but it's the sound of his name that breaks the tension and justin suddenly feels... unsure. uncertain and unclear and like maybe he's fucked this up really badly - whatever this is, whatever it was.
his fingers curl slightly against the side of raphael's neck, blunt nails ghosting against cool skin, his eyes still closed. his lips part like he means to say something, but he just swallows thickly instead, finally opening his eyes. he doesn't lift his gaze right away, breathing out slowly as his thumb unconsciously smooths a slow line against the side of raphael's hand, fingers still linked together.
justin lifts his hand away from the side of raphael's neck just an inch, just enough so that they're not touching anymore, because he assumes that's what the hand around his wrist is about - putting a stop to something he made too many assumptions about. ]
Shit, [ he breathes, a small rush of air, an apologetic sigh of a word. he swallows again, wets his lips. ] I'm sorry.
[ but he's not. not really. he's not sorry for liking raphael, he's not sorry for finding him interesting or charming or intriguing, and he's not sorry for somehow coming to trust him with things like his art. he's not sorry for kissing raphael, either, but he's sorry for misunderstanding. he's sorry for doing something that's probably going to screw up whatever friendship they'd built despite the odds. ]
I should have, um - I should have... asked, instead of just.
[ he ends the sentence in the middle before he winds up rambling and making things awkward and uncomfortable, more than they probably already are. ]
no subject
justin's hand lifts from his neck and raphael realizes immediately that he should have let the kiss go on, that interrupting it now has shaken them both. that's the last thing he wanted. this he knows despite the fact that the last twenty seconds have taken his old wants and turned them into unrecognizable things. raphael's grip on justin's wrist tightens just so, not enough to hurt, not enough to make justin regret this any more, but enough to discourage him from completely pulling away. his thumb mirrors justin before he can really think about it, rubbing up and down along the soft skin at the inside of justin's wrist. ]
No. [ he starts before justin can go any further, a soft shred of characteristic exasperation escaping with the word. it's not directed towards justin, though. it's at his own doubt, his need not to let this get away from him. ] I wanted you to.
[ it's possible he hadn't even realized it before, not in the moment leading up to justin's mouth seeking his. but he'd been waiting for something; waiting for orbits to cross, waiting for shadows to shift, waiting for this solar eclipse of a kiss.
and as such, he should have confronted it long ago. it's not like raphael santiago to shy away from truth, but maybe he can be forgiven here. it's not often that he falls so wholly into things like this, things that could very well be called love. it'll remain nameless for now. he can only be expected to hold so much within the cavern of his chest.
raphael sighs, breath stuttering a little, and then focuses on justin's face. ]
I don't want sex. [ his teeth clack together. it's abrupt and he knows it, a further jump than perhaps justin was expecting, but if he's going to be honest, he won't do it halfway. he's distracted for a moment by how bright justin's eyes look now, wondering if he'd done that, wondering if his look the same. he swallows thickly, gaze dropping as he recollects himself. ]
But this— [ the fingers he has wrapped around justin's wrist slide up to his hand and then press his warm palm back to the column of raphael's throat. in an instant, justin's pulse rumbles louder in raphael's ears, a rhythmic proclamation of life, life, life. he pauses here, hoping that justin's fingertips will settle again against cold skin. ]
I should have known before. I need this. [ with all the surety in the world, gaze steady, lips pressed firmly together. it sounds so simple, but maybe here and now, it can be. nevermind what comes later. he has learned after long years of wanting to be a leader to exude confidence. he knows it makes people listen to him even when faced with crisis, death, war. he has to hope justin listens to him now, when they're faced only with each other. this certainty he feels all the way down to old bones and venomous blood. a small shake of his head. ] I need to not forget.