[ inching towards something that can steady them - the couch, the arm rests? a wall? the couch is closer, he thinks. he leans against the surface, pulling mihail to - on? - him (a lingering hand on the back of his thigh for support--whatarewedoing). all of mihail's reassurances - the hand gripping him by the hair, the kissing - no matter how heartfelt, fuel his insecurities about the after. if he could just -
he grunts. breathes through his nostrils. and parts again, eyes closed, the tips of their noses touching, thumb stroking mihail's cheek like he would someone precious (that'sbecauseheis). ]
What - [ he chokes out in russian, unable to even translate simple words into english. "are we doing," but he stops himself because he's fully aware of what they're doing; the only thing he needs to come to to terms with is whether or not it's right or wrong for him to feel like this, to want something & have it & feel somewhat fulfilled -- at least at this moment. ]
i hate the english language forever.
he grunts. breathes through his nostrils. and parts again, eyes closed, the tips of their noses touching, thumb stroking mihail's cheek like he would someone precious (that'sbecauseheis). ]
What - [ he chokes out in russian, unable to even translate simple words into english. "are we doing," but he stops himself because he's fully aware of what they're doing; the only thing he needs to come to to terms with is whether or not it's right or wrong for him to feel like this, to want something & have it & feel somewhat fulfilled -- at least at this moment. ]