[ Maybe he should have expected it, the soft pressure of Andyr's mouth against his, but there's too much happening around them to really calculate every outcome, grateful for the touches that come before it and strangely grounded in his presence. It's a different sort of sensation he gets from being with anyone else, soaking it up the closer they get, and when Steve turns into Andyr's fingertips, he knows he's lost to whatever comes next.
The kiss steals his breath, however careful yet firm it is, and his fingers curl against his cheek, instinct as he fights between pulling away to give them both space and pursuing even more of this to taste him. It's intimate in that Andyr is never so touchy, doesn't like to be touched even when he's given his permission, the proof of that torn deeply into his skin, and Steve opens up to that almost instantly, lips parting to deepen that contact out of want rather than necessity or anything else. If it ends, at least there will be these few seconds of it, and Steve's bold enough to draw the hand he still holds to his shoulder, freeing his own to use it as leverage to press even closer. There are too many sensations to take in all that once too - the rush of the water, the heat of Andyr's skin, the damp slide of his lips, the movement of his chest as he breathes - but he tries to sort them one by one, brushing his knuckles against the side of his face before caressing the slope of neck and shoulder.
He doesn't fight the reasons why he should or shouldn't be doing this. He doesn't question the what or how of it. Steve only draws back enough to rest their foreheads together and tries to remember to breathe. ] Andyr-- [ But he's stuck on just his name, swallowing and cautiously licking at his bottom lip. It's strange and not. It's satisfying and complicated, and whatever lies beyond this is something he knows he can't let go of now. ]
no subject
The kiss steals his breath, however careful yet firm it is, and his fingers curl against his cheek, instinct as he fights between pulling away to give them both space and pursuing even more of this to taste him. It's intimate in that Andyr is never so touchy, doesn't like to be touched even when he's given his permission, the proof of that torn deeply into his skin, and Steve opens up to that almost instantly, lips parting to deepen that contact out of want rather than necessity or anything else. If it ends, at least there will be these few seconds of it, and Steve's bold enough to draw the hand he still holds to his shoulder, freeing his own to use it as leverage to press even closer. There are too many sensations to take in all that once too - the rush of the water, the heat of Andyr's skin, the damp slide of his lips, the movement of his chest as he breathes - but he tries to sort them one by one, brushing his knuckles against the side of his face before caressing the slope of neck and shoulder.
He doesn't fight the reasons why he should or shouldn't be doing this. He doesn't question the what or how of it. Steve only draws back enough to rest their foreheads together and tries to remember to breathe. ] Andyr-- [ But he's stuck on just his name, swallowing and cautiously licking at his bottom lip. It's strange and not. It's satisfying and complicated, and whatever lies beyond this is something he knows he can't let go of now. ]