[ In sum, the possessive caress of his index finger and thumb along McGillis's finger, as if first falling upon that blind choice, cannot have lasted longer than a second. One, single tick, the measure of heartbeat without ferment.
Yet, there is ferment.
McGillis chides in dulcet sugars, and Gaelio's eyelids stagger open, a fluttering staccato. McGillis has not yet opened his eyes, granting Gaelio another moment to stare, now with warmth coaxing through his neck, splashing cheeks. Yet, his surprise, and the color on its heels, do not delay him. While he hadn't expected such a response, the mischief that produced it hasn't abated, now flourishing under honeyed sun.
Gaelio watches those lips part for the chocolate, watches the spread of throat and chest as McGillis leans. Flicks his eyes to the cookie in his hand before returning. ]
Is it?
[ A hitching lift to his voice, and Gaelio pauses to measure it better, a breath of too-innocent pomp. ]
A paragon of integrity can't be a cheater. For honor's sake, I'll have to reclaim that first treat, only... it's a real problem, after all, I wasn't looking... will I be able to find it again?
[ As McGillis open his eyes, once he has those eyes, Gaelio winks.
Setting the plate back onto the tray, he hovers his hand above it once more, as though to make a show of feeling along the assortment. Yet, the incorrigible cut of his smile falters at renewed contact, and once more surprise disrupts his eyes, now skipping down to their legs, watching as that idle, inattentive motion grazes ankle and foot.
As though McGillis permitted himself anything but the deliberate.
How mad, if true, reciprocation to his superficial overtures well beyond known bounds and norms. His mind casts for a less heated explanation, the dream resisting awareness of its definition, of other types, of what he too had woke and ached with in years past. The moment Gaelio knows he's dreaming, the moment the atmosphere's sheen blackens.
And yet.
Even as the air thickens, his keen confusion receives another layer. It begins where McGillis's heel and ankle touched. Pinpricks at heel and spreading, a numbing that goes senseless in seconds. Gaelio stares down, refusing to reach and prod and make too obverse their furtive provocation. Besides, he understands immediately and innately that it would do little good. Less than pins and needles, than the limb slept on and sleeping, and waking. He can't feel it at all.
More or less alarming: he can't move it, either. More or less, but most frustrating, as he'd like, he'd terribly like, to slide his own heel more daringly.
The dream shrouds, but when his eyes draw up to meet McGillis's, bewildered distress flits through them before easy affection smothers it. ]
No. [ Both blunt and breezy, a chuckle in an exhale. ] I can't be, if it makes me a cheater. McGillis --
no subject
Yet, there is ferment.
McGillis chides in dulcet sugars, and Gaelio's eyelids stagger open, a fluttering staccato. McGillis has not yet opened his eyes, granting Gaelio another moment to stare, now with warmth coaxing through his neck, splashing cheeks. Yet, his surprise, and the color on its heels, do not delay him. While he hadn't expected such a response, the mischief that produced it hasn't abated, now flourishing under honeyed sun.
Gaelio watches those lips part for the chocolate, watches the spread of throat and chest as McGillis leans. Flicks his eyes to the cookie in his hand before returning. ]
Is it?
[ A hitching lift to his voice, and Gaelio pauses to measure it better, a breath of too-innocent pomp. ]
A paragon of integrity can't be a cheater. For honor's sake, I'll have to reclaim that first treat, only... it's a real problem, after all, I wasn't looking... will I be able to find it again?
[ As McGillis open his eyes, once he has those eyes, Gaelio winks.
Setting the plate back onto the tray, he hovers his hand above it once more, as though to make a show of feeling along the assortment. Yet, the incorrigible cut of his smile falters at renewed contact, and once more surprise disrupts his eyes, now skipping down to their legs, watching as that idle, inattentive motion grazes ankle and foot.
As though McGillis permitted himself anything but the deliberate.
How mad, if true, reciprocation to his superficial overtures well beyond known bounds and norms. His mind casts for a less heated explanation, the dream resisting awareness of its definition, of other types, of what he too had woke and ached with in years past. The moment Gaelio knows he's dreaming, the moment the atmosphere's sheen blackens.
And yet.
Even as the air thickens, his keen confusion receives another layer. It begins where McGillis's heel and ankle touched. Pinpricks at heel and spreading, a numbing that goes senseless in seconds. Gaelio stares down, refusing to reach and prod and make too obverse their furtive provocation. Besides, he understands immediately and innately that it would do little good. Less than pins and needles, than the limb slept on and sleeping, and waking. He can't feel it at all.
More or less alarming: he can't move it, either. More or less, but most frustrating, as he'd like, he'd terribly like, to slide his own heel more daringly.
The dream shrouds, but when his eyes draw up to meet McGillis's, bewildered distress flits through them before easy affection smothers it. ]
No. [ Both blunt and breezy, a chuckle in an exhale. ] I can't be, if it makes me a cheater. McGillis --
How should I find it? My fated sweet?