.
Noven's immediate reply was a sort of stunned mix of confusion, uncertainty, and small tints of fear and disbelief. Keene's eyes held, gaze fixed on the mixture of emotions that swam beneath the surface of Noven's tanned skin. When he did manage his question, Keene's fingers tightened some, his through constricting as he felt his heart twist in his chest. He hated how he felt in that moment. It was ludicrous for something as menial as a simple question asked in regards to a simple request to spark such turmoil within him. His mind immediately exploded onto all the different paths of probabilities and possibilities. In less than a tick, he saw Noven drawing his hand away, head shaking and frown prominent. In another, Noven laughed, mirth at Keene's request overflowing from the uncontrollable guffaws. Yet more showed another myriad of potentials, all flashing before him, coloring his own opinions on the matter so quickly and so haphazardly, he was at a loss for words to reply with. Having already spoken contrary to logic and reason, Keene simply let the words slip from his lips in a soft, "Y-yes." The words seeming to cement the desire within him.
He felt it, the thoughts that had driven him to ask the question in the first place were given weight the moment the word left his mouth. By speaking, he had given the idea all the power it needed to consume him. He wanted to kiss Noven. In that instant, he it was all he wanted - the only thing he could think of wanting. Noven consumed both vision and thought, like an infection of sorts. Yet, while Keene was aware, somewhere, that it was absolutely ridiculous for him to involve himself in any way with the man before him - the man who's own mind seemed to grind itself over the same convoluted mess of emotions that Keene struggled under -, the only thing keeping him from fulfilling the burning drive within him was the frustratingly perplexed stare he was given in return.
The grip around Noven's hand was tight, but it was a strain of a secondary nature. The burn from the prolonged contact dug into his skin like fire, nipping at every nerve as it bore its way into his bones. The pain, however, was nothing compared to the pounding beat of his heart and the near suffocation of his breath as he waited. He waited for what felt like centuries. Each tick was a year, a chime ten times that. Keene had never allowed himself to become so invested in anything, not even magic. In all of his planning and plotting, research and study, Keene had never once thought to prepare himself for the unnameable situation that he found himself in, yet somehow he had the feeling that no amount of preparation would have been even a fraction of the amount required for him to aptly handle himself.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to display the full range of human emotion all in one single outburst. Every want, ever desire, however, was so completely rooted in Noven, that Keene had a difficult time telling his thoughts apart from his cravings and vice versa. Cogitation was fully functional, but it was so polluted, Keene found his thoughts to be more enemies than the associates he had come to know them as. He'd never wanted so many things at one time. His life had always been organized: set events with set requirements and outcomes. Life, to Keene, was ordered. It made sense, and if it didn't make sense, one was simply living wrong.
Under Noven's gaze, however, Keene could not have felt more right. In that moment, it was life that had been wrong. There were inklings of thought strong enough to tint those more prevalent, suggesting he was merely thinking irrationally - something he agreed to - but it didn't change the fact that what he wanted, what he needed, was something perfectly acceptable. It wasn't acceptable in the long run, perhaps not even in the short run, but all he'd asked for had been a single kiss.
The subject of a kiss in and of itself was something strange to him. He'd never understood the act before, as it seemed a strange and inefficient manner of greeting and parting. Mouths were use to verbally communicate and physically break down and chew the food one required to live. They were not meant for romantic endeavors, though it seemed they were quite good at them - and many people seemed proficient in using them as such. Keene, however, had no idea how to use his own mouth in such a way. He had asked for something he didn't understand for reasons he understood even less. Grey green eyes fixed solely upon Noven's own dark stare, another flurry of frantic thoughts suggested possible outcomes for Keene's inadequacies. Feelings of doubt and fear that would never have arisen from performing poorly in a social setting with literally anyone else set his heart pumping even faster if it were possible.
He didn't want Noven to think him incompetent. In fact, he didn't want Noven to think anything about him at all. Noven's own affection terrified him, even more so than if Noven disliked or even abhorred him. Keene didn't understand love. He didn't understand basic attraction, even. They were foreign, horrifying concepts, especially as they were evaluated under the stress induced mental haze he had fallen under. Words and pictures danced through his head, fears mingling with pleasures, failures with success. To avoid it, Noven needed only to think nothing about him, to treat him as he would the air or the earth beneath his boots. Keene found his mind so ludicrous that, for a tick, he even would have been happy to be that earth. The thoughts had gotten so far out of hand, that while his face remained a mixture of muted anxiety, fear, necessity, and formality, his mind was a literal wreck.
When Noven's eyes changed, Keene's state of hyper-internalized vigilance immediately focused itself outward, searching for any hint of a more definitive reply. There was no way for him to tell what Noven was thinking, only that the dark eyes before him swam with thoughts as many as Keene's own. He couldn't place names to what he was seeing, but Keene found that many of those perceived were not so different from his own, if not more easily displayed as well as a bit more tame. The rationality of it was an interesting juxtaposition: Keene as emotional and instinctive; Noven as thoughtful and meditative. The tables had turned so quickly and so subtlety, that Keene hardly noticed them, though even in his state it was obvious enough which of them was more in control of self.
When the spark flickered in their shared gaze, Keene felt his breath seem to slip away, stolen by the man who's voice blundered before him. Each word, however nervous or uncertain, tugged at his heart, taunting it with Noven's deep and strained timbre. The pain of their hands touching had spread throughout him, mingling with the physical strain of his mental battle within himself, a battle that was quickly - and almost entirely by that point - one sided. He was no longer in control, though this time it was far different from the night before. Keene had every ability to take hold of himself, to stop the nonsense he'd initiated and shut down the absolute mess he had created both within and without of his private deliberations. Instead, he felt himself tremble slightly, apprehension claiming him as its own as Noven moved forward.
His hears had registered that Noven was saying something, but his mind had been far too preoccupied with the glint that had grown into a sun all of its own. Noven had made a decision, and the words were of little importance. Keene's eyes remained open, wide and watching as time seemed to come to a standstill. He could feel Noven's warm breath upon him, tinted by the salty aroma of the jerky mixed with Noven's natural scent. He couldn't even breath it in, too focused on the ever drawing lips, the smooth skin pressing against his own.
It was like a thousand needles shoved into his mouth, but if those needles had been coated in the most sublime of sensations. The pain mixed with the pleasure to the point where Keene couldn't separate them - to the point where it didn't matter. It wasn't animalistic nor was it so filled with unyielding passion and desire. The kiss was tender, searching but not to find the full extent, rather to find a connection between the two of them. At first, Keene flinched away. He couldn't help the reflex, as the searing pain was the first thing he felt, but it was so quickly augmented by the overwhelming comfort, he pressed back into it.
His body molded against Noven's, though it did so only that Keene could immerse himself in the world that their contact had created for him. He had never felt so whole, nor had he ever experienced the joy and excitement he did then to such an extent. He wanted it to last forever, to immortalize himself in that moment there with Noven, the blinding pain and mind-numbing pleasure mixing together in their kiss. Keene shivered, his free hand slipping along Noven's side to grip lightly onto the back of his shoulder, pulling them into an embrace. While he wanted it to last forever, the fact of the matter was, like all mortal things, it passed. Their lips pulled apart, only slightly, as Keene gasped for air, nose rubbing against Noven's as his eyes involuntarily shut as his whole body shivered from the experience.
What he had felt in that moment was far greater than anything he had felt before. The fevered night had been one thing, it had been carnal pleasures incarnate, a quality that was so far removed from what he had just received, comparison was entirely impossible. His heart felt as if it had burst, filling his chest with an inexplicable warmth. Even as the piercing twinge from where he rested his forehead against Noven's burned into the very nature of his djed, his skin crawled with perfect memory of the kiss, lips brushing against the other man's hungrily, gently catching at them with his teeth.
Nothing could have prepared him. The kiss itself could not have done so. Keene found that his hand had turned a frantic white from the effort in which he'd been clenching his fingers, and he let the grip loosen, not wanting to pull away just yet. Words did not come to mind. It wasn't surprising that he couldn't think of what to say. Keene wasn't even sure if it was acceptable to say anything after what they had just done. His heart still fluttered, calming some as it beat to the rapid rhythm of the muscle in the chest against his own. The longer they stayed connected, however, the greater the pain grew. Without permission, without thought, he gently pressed his lips against Noven's once more, just hinting at a taste of the other man. It was impossibly sweet, a flavor that Keene was almost certain was of his own mind's imagination than the true nature of Noven's mouth, but he savored it as he pulled himself away.
His whole body shook from the strain as he slowly and deliberately unlaced his fingers, letting his hands fall weakly to his sides. His legs stayed strong enough, keeping him standing as his grey-green eyes stared unveiled. There was apparent surprise, pleasure, fear, excitement, pain, wonder, and satisfaction all swimming in the unabashed glitter of his gaze. Though his mouth remained a neutral line, his eyes, for the first time, smiled. There was a sadness, deep-set and ingrained within the core of his being, that still shone through, but Keene was happy. He thought it odd that he might describe himself as such. The night before had left a part of him strangely satisfied, but the kiss had filled him with a subtle euphoria. He couldn't explain it in word or thought or even emotion. It was something ethereal, something beyond the constraints of the known world.
Keene's face was flushed a stark pink; the jittery nature of his own body that had been filled with endorphins made motor control more difficult, but it didn't stop him from raising his hand to gently trace the line of Noven's jaw. Where the action the night before had been one of seduction, Keene's fingers brushed against the skin with little more intention that sheer admiration and warmth that was presented more in his posture than in a smile. The actual touch, of course, was chilled, but it didn't last long before his hand was cautiously pulled back, eyes searching. They had acted on impulse, again. He had enjoyed it, certainly, but with his desire sated, fulfilled even, Keene's more logical line of reasoning came back into play.
He had desired a kiss as a test, not a contract. Keene had been able to determine that whatever he felt for Noven was enough to dull the pain of touch. It was hardly the outcome he'd been expecting, but it was certainly the one he preferred out of most of the other possibilities. His breathing had calmed some, the small amount of distance between them enough to allow him to catch his breath. A soft, quiet, "Noven..." escaped his lips before he could future ponder over what it was he knew he wanted to say. The term "I love you" was not in Keene's colloquial vocabulary, nor was it even considered among the myriad of messages he wanted to send. Instead, Keene wanted to clarity, understanding, even a strange sort of transparency, at least on his end.
Drawing a deep, calming breath, he looked into the eyes of the tanned, dark haired, muscled-bound rough-em-up man before him, his own gaze searching, though the frantic desire and need subsided, allowing for a genuine flicker to present itself more clearly while his facial features remained relatively impassive. "I-" Words. He needed words. "We-" Words were hardly effective. They could not encompass what he felt nor what he needed to say. There was no desperation in his voice, only a subtle frustration as he found that, in spite of the years of his live spent developing his vocabulary, the one moment when speech finally mattered in an incredibly meaningful way, he was at a loss. Instead, Keene tentatively put a hand on Noven's chest as he moved his face in closer. His eyes bore into Noven's, staring and allowing him a brief glimpse into his heart as he gently and delicately pressed his lips to his, wincing at the first contact but continuing on in spite of it. There was pain, sadness, fear, loneliness and strife. There was also relief, bewilderment, ecstasy, tenderness, and a few tears formed from a combination of the pain both mind and body. Where words failed him, his actions did not.
Noven's immediate reply was a sort of stunned mix of confusion, uncertainty, and small tints of fear and disbelief. Keene's eyes held, gaze fixed on the mixture of emotions that swam beneath the surface of Noven's tanned skin. When he did manage his question, Keene's fingers tightened some, his through constricting as he felt his heart twist in his chest. He hated how he felt in that moment. It was ludicrous for something as menial as a simple question asked in regards to a simple request to spark such turmoil within him. His mind immediately exploded onto all the different paths of probabilities and possibilities. In less than a tick, he saw Noven drawing his hand away, head shaking and frown prominent. In another, Noven laughed, mirth at Keene's request overflowing from the uncontrollable guffaws. Yet more showed another myriad of potentials, all flashing before him, coloring his own opinions on the matter so quickly and so haphazardly, he was at a loss for words to reply with. Having already spoken contrary to logic and reason, Keene simply let the words slip from his lips in a soft, "Y-yes." The words seeming to cement the desire within him.
He felt it, the thoughts that had driven him to ask the question in the first place were given weight the moment the word left his mouth. By speaking, he had given the idea all the power it needed to consume him. He wanted to kiss Noven. In that instant, he it was all he wanted - the only thing he could think of wanting. Noven consumed both vision and thought, like an infection of sorts. Yet, while Keene was aware, somewhere, that it was absolutely ridiculous for him to involve himself in any way with the man before him - the man who's own mind seemed to grind itself over the same convoluted mess of emotions that Keene struggled under -, the only thing keeping him from fulfilling the burning drive within him was the frustratingly perplexed stare he was given in return.
The grip around Noven's hand was tight, but it was a strain of a secondary nature. The burn from the prolonged contact dug into his skin like fire, nipping at every nerve as it bore its way into his bones. The pain, however, was nothing compared to the pounding beat of his heart and the near suffocation of his breath as he waited. He waited for what felt like centuries. Each tick was a year, a chime ten times that. Keene had never allowed himself to become so invested in anything, not even magic. In all of his planning and plotting, research and study, Keene had never once thought to prepare himself for the unnameable situation that he found himself in, yet somehow he had the feeling that no amount of preparation would have been even a fraction of the amount required for him to aptly handle himself.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to display the full range of human emotion all in one single outburst. Every want, ever desire, however, was so completely rooted in Noven, that Keene had a difficult time telling his thoughts apart from his cravings and vice versa. Cogitation was fully functional, but it was so polluted, Keene found his thoughts to be more enemies than the associates he had come to know them as. He'd never wanted so many things at one time. His life had always been organized: set events with set requirements and outcomes. Life, to Keene, was ordered. It made sense, and if it didn't make sense, one was simply living wrong.
Under Noven's gaze, however, Keene could not have felt more right. In that moment, it was life that had been wrong. There were inklings of thought strong enough to tint those more prevalent, suggesting he was merely thinking irrationally - something he agreed to - but it didn't change the fact that what he wanted, what he needed, was something perfectly acceptable. It wasn't acceptable in the long run, perhaps not even in the short run, but all he'd asked for had been a single kiss.
The subject of a kiss in and of itself was something strange to him. He'd never understood the act before, as it seemed a strange and inefficient manner of greeting and parting. Mouths were use to verbally communicate and physically break down and chew the food one required to live. They were not meant for romantic endeavors, though it seemed they were quite good at them - and many people seemed proficient in using them as such. Keene, however, had no idea how to use his own mouth in such a way. He had asked for something he didn't understand for reasons he understood even less. Grey green eyes fixed solely upon Noven's own dark stare, another flurry of frantic thoughts suggested possible outcomes for Keene's inadequacies. Feelings of doubt and fear that would never have arisen from performing poorly in a social setting with literally anyone else set his heart pumping even faster if it were possible.
He didn't want Noven to think him incompetent. In fact, he didn't want Noven to think anything about him at all. Noven's own affection terrified him, even more so than if Noven disliked or even abhorred him. Keene didn't understand love. He didn't understand basic attraction, even. They were foreign, horrifying concepts, especially as they were evaluated under the stress induced mental haze he had fallen under. Words and pictures danced through his head, fears mingling with pleasures, failures with success. To avoid it, Noven needed only to think nothing about him, to treat him as he would the air or the earth beneath his boots. Keene found his mind so ludicrous that, for a tick, he even would have been happy to be that earth. The thoughts had gotten so far out of hand, that while his face remained a mixture of muted anxiety, fear, necessity, and formality, his mind was a literal wreck.
When Noven's eyes changed, Keene's state of hyper-internalized vigilance immediately focused itself outward, searching for any hint of a more definitive reply. There was no way for him to tell what Noven was thinking, only that the dark eyes before him swam with thoughts as many as Keene's own. He couldn't place names to what he was seeing, but Keene found that many of those perceived were not so different from his own, if not more easily displayed as well as a bit more tame. The rationality of it was an interesting juxtaposition: Keene as emotional and instinctive; Noven as thoughtful and meditative. The tables had turned so quickly and so subtlety, that Keene hardly noticed them, though even in his state it was obvious enough which of them was more in control of self.
When the spark flickered in their shared gaze, Keene felt his breath seem to slip away, stolen by the man who's voice blundered before him. Each word, however nervous or uncertain, tugged at his heart, taunting it with Noven's deep and strained timbre. The pain of their hands touching had spread throughout him, mingling with the physical strain of his mental battle within himself, a battle that was quickly - and almost entirely by that point - one sided. He was no longer in control, though this time it was far different from the night before. Keene had every ability to take hold of himself, to stop the nonsense he'd initiated and shut down the absolute mess he had created both within and without of his private deliberations. Instead, he felt himself tremble slightly, apprehension claiming him as its own as Noven moved forward.
His hears had registered that Noven was saying something, but his mind had been far too preoccupied with the glint that had grown into a sun all of its own. Noven had made a decision, and the words were of little importance. Keene's eyes remained open, wide and watching as time seemed to come to a standstill. He could feel Noven's warm breath upon him, tinted by the salty aroma of the jerky mixed with Noven's natural scent. He couldn't even breath it in, too focused on the ever drawing lips, the smooth skin pressing against his own.
It was like a thousand needles shoved into his mouth, but if those needles had been coated in the most sublime of sensations. The pain mixed with the pleasure to the point where Keene couldn't separate them - to the point where it didn't matter. It wasn't animalistic nor was it so filled with unyielding passion and desire. The kiss was tender, searching but not to find the full extent, rather to find a connection between the two of them. At first, Keene flinched away. He couldn't help the reflex, as the searing pain was the first thing he felt, but it was so quickly augmented by the overwhelming comfort, he pressed back into it.
His body molded against Noven's, though it did so only that Keene could immerse himself in the world that their contact had created for him. He had never felt so whole, nor had he ever experienced the joy and excitement he did then to such an extent. He wanted it to last forever, to immortalize himself in that moment there with Noven, the blinding pain and mind-numbing pleasure mixing together in their kiss. Keene shivered, his free hand slipping along Noven's side to grip lightly onto the back of his shoulder, pulling them into an embrace. While he wanted it to last forever, the fact of the matter was, like all mortal things, it passed. Their lips pulled apart, only slightly, as Keene gasped for air, nose rubbing against Noven's as his eyes involuntarily shut as his whole body shivered from the experience.
What he had felt in that moment was far greater than anything he had felt before. The fevered night had been one thing, it had been carnal pleasures incarnate, a quality that was so far removed from what he had just received, comparison was entirely impossible. His heart felt as if it had burst, filling his chest with an inexplicable warmth. Even as the piercing twinge from where he rested his forehead against Noven's burned into the very nature of his djed, his skin crawled with perfect memory of the kiss, lips brushing against the other man's hungrily, gently catching at them with his teeth.
Nothing could have prepared him. The kiss itself could not have done so. Keene found that his hand had turned a frantic white from the effort in which he'd been clenching his fingers, and he let the grip loosen, not wanting to pull away just yet. Words did not come to mind. It wasn't surprising that he couldn't think of what to say. Keene wasn't even sure if it was acceptable to say anything after what they had just done. His heart still fluttered, calming some as it beat to the rapid rhythm of the muscle in the chest against his own. The longer they stayed connected, however, the greater the pain grew. Without permission, without thought, he gently pressed his lips against Noven's once more, just hinting at a taste of the other man. It was impossibly sweet, a flavor that Keene was almost certain was of his own mind's imagination than the true nature of Noven's mouth, but he savored it as he pulled himself away.
His whole body shook from the strain as he slowly and deliberately unlaced his fingers, letting his hands fall weakly to his sides. His legs stayed strong enough, keeping him standing as his grey-green eyes stared unveiled. There was apparent surprise, pleasure, fear, excitement, pain, wonder, and satisfaction all swimming in the unabashed glitter of his gaze. Though his mouth remained a neutral line, his eyes, for the first time, smiled. There was a sadness, deep-set and ingrained within the core of his being, that still shone through, but Keene was happy. He thought it odd that he might describe himself as such. The night before had left a part of him strangely satisfied, but the kiss had filled him with a subtle euphoria. He couldn't explain it in word or thought or even emotion. It was something ethereal, something beyond the constraints of the known world.
Keene's face was flushed a stark pink; the jittery nature of his own body that had been filled with endorphins made motor control more difficult, but it didn't stop him from raising his hand to gently trace the line of Noven's jaw. Where the action the night before had been one of seduction, Keene's fingers brushed against the skin with little more intention that sheer admiration and warmth that was presented more in his posture than in a smile. The actual touch, of course, was chilled, but it didn't last long before his hand was cautiously pulled back, eyes searching. They had acted on impulse, again. He had enjoyed it, certainly, but with his desire sated, fulfilled even, Keene's more logical line of reasoning came back into play.
He had desired a kiss as a test, not a contract. Keene had been able to determine that whatever he felt for Noven was enough to dull the pain of touch. It was hardly the outcome he'd been expecting, but it was certainly the one he preferred out of most of the other possibilities. His breathing had calmed some, the small amount of distance between them enough to allow him to catch his breath. A soft, quiet, "Noven..." escaped his lips before he could future ponder over what it was he knew he wanted to say. The term "I love you" was not in Keene's colloquial vocabulary, nor was it even considered among the myriad of messages he wanted to send. Instead, Keene wanted to clarity, understanding, even a strange sort of transparency, at least on his end.
Drawing a deep, calming breath, he looked into the eyes of the tanned, dark haired, muscled-bound rough-em-up man before him, his own gaze searching, though the frantic desire and need subsided, allowing for a genuine flicker to present itself more clearly while his facial features remained relatively impassive. "I-" Words. He needed words. "We-" Words were hardly effective. They could not encompass what he felt nor what he needed to say. There was no desperation in his voice, only a subtle frustration as he found that, in spite of the years of his live spent developing his vocabulary, the one moment when speech finally mattered in an incredibly meaningful way, he was at a loss. Instead, Keene tentatively put a hand on Noven's chest as he moved his face in closer. His eyes bore into Noven's, staring and allowing him a brief glimpse into his heart as he gently and delicately pressed his lips to his, wincing at the first contact but continuing on in spite of it. There was pain, sadness, fear, loneliness and strife. There was also relief, bewilderment, ecstasy, tenderness, and a few tears formed from a combination of the pain both mind and body. Where words failed him, his actions did not.
