[ Shit? Well, shit, there’s a sound, huh? And there’s a feeling of Alice against him, and hey, there’s no sign Alice is trying to hide his hard-on, which is somehow a relief, which Treavor is glad to find, which is another sign everything is a-okay, and shit yeah there’s nothing wrong with showing interest.
That was a good goddamn sound. Another good goddamn sound, right up there with that laugh, that purr, and Alice has a compelling voice, doesn’t he? The kind of voice Treavor could immerse himself in, would listen to on end in every register and mood.
The guy’s not kidding about being okay with caring for Treavor. If Treavor’s putting the pieces together - and they seem pretty clear-cut - he’s really very okay with it, and that’s… Kind of nice? That maybe Treavor can offer this guy something that makes him feel real right. And doesn’t Treavor enjoy, even thrill at the sort of care Alice gives him? The checking-ins and the easing rhythm of a brush through his hair and a collar straightened or a button done up (or a button toyed with, long fingers strong fingers idling against his chest, and Alice could linger at that single button all day and still Treavor’d be pleased), all signs of attentive interest and a warmth shared between them.
The feeling’d been there even on that first day, when he woke on a strange couch to find he’d been wrapped up warm in blankets and clean clothes and found water and aspirin and scrambled eggs and soft words offered, careful discussion broached, and it’d dizzied Treavor, marked him. Changed the way he knew the world, and hasn’t he felt a little less hopeless (a lot less hopeless) since that day? Doesn’t Alice render him electric and grace him with honeyed ease?
There’s so much, there’s so much this guy can make him feel. Has made him feel already, and is feeling now, a warm roil of pleasantness and thrill.
So maybe the care’s good for both of them.
So yeah, Treavor feels the guy gone hard against him, and he gives Alice a nuzzle, another nuzzle, an entire set of nuzzles meant to be encouraging and reassuring and also, okay, also he just likes how it feels to nuzzle the guy, rough of that beard and all.
And maybe Treavor full-on freezes at the mention of bathing, lets a little sound like ’huh’ escape, as if this idea’d never occurred to him. As if he’d never once considered intimate bathing a thing - and he hadn’t; and he might’ve laughed at the idea before this, before Alice - and as if the idea now seems momentous. Because… Because..
He would. Like that. He thinks.
And settles out of that frozen moment to melt against Alice again, nodding a little, again managing a ’huh.’ (Consider Alice’s hands against his skin, Alice tracing warm-water trickles down his spine, Alice maybe beside him, can they find a tub for that? Because that. Because that? Would be pretty fucking great, ah shit.)
He swallows. He nods. ]
We should. Yeah, probably try the bathing thing sometime. But!
[ A playful nudge, minor headbutt. ]
But you’ve gotta get in the bath too. No fair only one of us getting wet.
[ And he nestles closer against Alice, thinks they’re both going to keep pressing closer until they do discover some secret of melding, or some way to pause the rush of time. ]
You’re a good fuckin guy, Alice.
[ A good fuckin guy who says impossible things, and somehow leaves Treavor believing them.
Like. Words like. ’Nothing about you is thankless.’ Words Treavor would like to hold against his bones and always-knowing. Words that by all rights shouldn’t make sense (how often has he been told he’s a thankless shit, an ingrate, a nobody who can’t show appreciation for all the good he’s been granted?), words he ought to doubt, and yet they strike as truth. Alice makes them truth, belying everything that came before.
This guy’s fucking matchless. Fucking peerless.
And all this time, this guy existed in the world. Getting pelted with his own bullshit, making it all the way through miles and miles of who-knows-what (Treavor doesn’t know what) (Treavor thinks he’d like to know, if it’s anything Alice’ll tell) (thinks he might, maybe, like to share some of his own shit with Alice, and thinks Alice maybe wouldn’t mind) to reach this point, this perfect fucking point that’s turned a callous city tender.
Treavor feels like.
He feels like.
He hasn’t felt like this since Davis. And even the brightest moments out there were only shadows against what he feels now, knows now. How close to right and capable of being all right he is in this moment, this please-couldn’t-it-be-eternal space.
Could that rightness last with Alice? Treavor thinks so. Treavor fucking knows it with his heart, and right now, he’s inclined to trust that heart, so often unwilling to really believe the good of a moment or the lastingness of anything. His heart knows a lot about being cautious, and if it feels all right about Alice, there’re reasons. ]
My very favorite, in fact. The best anyone.
[ And, you know what? Carefully, lightly, he’s going to brush a kiss against Alice’s beard. Not quite touching skin, just soft and a little lingering, and then Treavor’s nuzzling this beautiful guy again. ]
no subject
That was a good goddamn sound. Another good goddamn sound, right up there with that laugh, that purr, and Alice has a compelling voice, doesn’t he? The kind of voice Treavor could immerse himself in, would listen to on end in every register and mood.
The guy’s not kidding about being okay with caring for Treavor. If Treavor’s putting the pieces together - and they seem pretty clear-cut - he’s really very okay with it, and that’s… Kind of nice? That maybe Treavor can offer this guy something that makes him feel real right. And doesn’t Treavor enjoy, even thrill at the sort of care Alice gives him? The checking-ins and the easing rhythm of a brush through his hair and a collar straightened or a button done up (or a button toyed with, long fingers strong fingers idling against his chest, and Alice could linger at that single button all day and still Treavor’d be pleased), all signs of attentive interest and a warmth shared between them.
The feeling’d been there even on that first day, when he woke on a strange couch to find he’d been wrapped up warm in blankets and clean clothes and found water and aspirin and scrambled eggs and soft words offered, careful discussion broached, and it’d dizzied Treavor, marked him. Changed the way he knew the world, and hasn’t he felt a little less hopeless (a lot less hopeless) since that day? Doesn’t Alice render him electric and grace him with honeyed ease?
There’s so much, there’s so much this guy can make him feel. Has made him feel already, and is feeling now, a warm roil of pleasantness and thrill.
So maybe the care’s good for both of them.
So yeah, Treavor feels the guy gone hard against him, and he gives Alice a nuzzle, another nuzzle, an entire set of nuzzles meant to be encouraging and reassuring and also, okay, also he just likes how it feels to nuzzle the guy, rough of that beard and all.
And maybe Treavor full-on freezes at the mention of bathing, lets a little sound like ’huh’ escape, as if this idea’d never occurred to him. As if he’d never once considered intimate bathing a thing - and he hadn’t; and he might’ve laughed at the idea before this, before Alice - and as if the idea now seems momentous. Because… Because..
He would. Like that. He thinks.
And settles out of that frozen moment to melt against Alice again, nodding a little, again managing a ’huh.’ (Consider Alice’s hands against his skin, Alice tracing warm-water trickles down his spine, Alice maybe beside him, can they find a tub for that? Because that. Because that? Would be pretty fucking great, ah shit.)
He swallows. He nods. ]
We should. Yeah, probably try the bathing thing sometime. But!
[ A playful nudge, minor headbutt. ]
But you’ve gotta get in the bath too. No fair only one of us getting wet.
[ And he nestles closer against Alice, thinks they’re both going to keep pressing closer until they do discover some secret of melding, or some way to pause the rush of time. ]
You’re a good fuckin guy, Alice.
[ A good fuckin guy who says impossible things, and somehow leaves Treavor believing them.
Like. Words like. ’Nothing about you is thankless.’ Words Treavor would like to hold against his bones and always-knowing. Words that by all rights shouldn’t make sense (how often has he been told he’s a thankless shit, an ingrate, a nobody who can’t show appreciation for all the good he’s been granted?), words he ought to doubt, and yet they strike as truth. Alice makes them truth, belying everything that came before.
This guy’s fucking matchless. Fucking peerless.
And all this time, this guy existed in the world. Getting pelted with his own bullshit, making it all the way through miles and miles of who-knows-what (Treavor doesn’t know what) (Treavor thinks he’d like to know, if it’s anything Alice’ll tell) (thinks he might, maybe, like to share some of his own shit with Alice, and thinks Alice maybe wouldn’t mind) to reach this point, this perfect fucking point that’s turned a callous city tender.
Treavor feels like.
He feels like.
He hasn’t felt like this since Davis. And even the brightest moments out there were only shadows against what he feels now, knows now. How close to right and capable of being all right he is in this moment, this please-couldn’t-it-be-eternal space.
Could that rightness last with Alice? Treavor thinks so. Treavor fucking knows it with his heart, and right now, he’s inclined to trust that heart, so often unwilling to really believe the good of a moment or the lastingness of anything. His heart knows a lot about being cautious, and if it feels all right about Alice, there’re reasons. ]
My very favorite, in fact. The best anyone.
[ And, you know what? Carefully, lightly, he’s going to brush a kiss against Alice’s beard. Not quite touching skin, just soft and a little lingering, and then Treavor’s nuzzling this beautiful guy again. ]
I’m the luckiest goddamn bunny.