Chapter Text
All right. Step four. Date. He had the location, now Kim just needed to set it in motion. The idea of just plain asking Harry out was discarded immediately; he still needed that deniability if things should get awkward. Luckily, again, the race track surprise had given him the perfect excuse to propose an outing of his own without making it to obvious what was going on, and he cornered Harry by the coffee machine the following day.
“Khm. Detective?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to pay you back for the other day.”
Harry got that slightly panicked look on his face again, making Kim feel like he’d said something wrong. “Really, you don’t have to, Kim! It was just fun to, uhm, to spend time. With, um. With you.”
Kim was too distracted by trying to put words together in a clear and concise manner to notice the hesitation in Harry’s voice. “I was thinking the RMAM? There’s this new exhibition, apparently, and the admission is half price after seven. If you’d like to-”
“The modern art museum?” Harry’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to! I haven’t been yet! Uh. Probably,” he added, frowning at his coffee cup. “But anyway, yes, excellent!”
“Good. Great. Tonight?” Kim really couldn’t put it off any more. If he couldn’t manage to do something by tonight, he might as well give up.
“Perfect.” Harry gave him a big grin and a thumbs up.
That evening, they parked the MC at Kim’s place and walked the few blocks over to the RMAM. It was housed in an old Dolorian building, white, stark and angular, four stories high. A banner hung across the entrance, boasting ‘A walk through perdition: The Garamonte perspective’. Kim had no idea what it meant. Inside, they were met with a large entrance hall and a ticket booth as well as several more banners and leaflet stands, explaining the different exhibitions and rooms. Harry picked a couple and thumbed through them as Kim paid the small entry fee.
“Where should we start?”
Harry looked around, his eyes gleaming. “I think… yes, here.” He pointed to one of the stairways. “This gallery, first.”
Harry took the lead, guiding them through the winding galleries, passing artwork after artwork, collected by provenance or artist or style. Nearly all of it went over Kim’s head. He’d be the first person to admit that he really wasn’t that good at understanding art, and most of what was in here was abstract, or a metaphor, or both. But he was really enjoying seeing it all through Harry’s eyes as he went from room to room, gushing over a field of solid colour here or a stuffed goat with a tyre around its middle there. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Kim found himself actually trying his best to contemplate the works.
“Look, Kim, over here, there’s a really disco painting-”
They stopped underneath a large painting, angular, beautiful, evoking the image of radiance using fields of white, gold and orange. Harry started to explain the technique, using words like impasto and palette knife. Kim shook his head.
“How do you know all this, Harry? I thought you said you’d never been.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Kim knew it was the wrong thing to say. Harry stopped in his tracks, confusion replacing the look of wonder.
“I don’t… I think I have been here. With… with someone. Someone who told me…”
He stared up at the painting, frowning. Kim cursed himself. This was absolutely not part of the plan. He wanted Harry happy and content, not maudlin and recalling long lost loves. He needed a distraction, and fast. He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him away from the painting, over towards the entrance to the gallery, and pointed at a strange sculpture standing just by the door.
“Tell me about this one!”
Harry stumbled after him but didn’t say anything, just stared down at his hand in Kim’s. Kim could feel the electricity in the grip, the warmth, burning, tingling; the fact that he was the one touching Harry this time only made it more intense. He gave it a quick squeeze.
“The sculpture?”
“Oh! Oh, yeah, it’s…” Harry shook his head. “It’s a commentary on Fourance’s early work, I think.”
“Interesting. Great.” Kim was keen on getting out of the gallery entirely, to avoid getting caught in another memory. “What’s out here?”
He pulled on Harry’s hand again, dragging him into what must be the museum’s central atrium: four floors, open from the bottom up into a massive dome, ringed by walkways leading into more galleries. The open space in the centre was taken up by a truly immense contraption, suspended in the air. Kim let go of Harry’s hand and took a step forward, staring at the massive piece.
“What… is this?”
Harry shook his head in amazement. “I don’t know. It wasn’t here when I… wow,” he added, quietly.
The sculpture filled the entire height of the atrium, nearly four stories tall. Made of interlocking gears and levers, it rotated slowly on its own axis as the parts moved and shifted into each other. Most of the pieces were made from polished wood, interspersed here and there by bronze or steel, and sections of it were scuffed and scratched from the constant grinding and movement of its disparate parts. It ticked away like it was trying to measure the heartbeat of the universe.
Kim leaned over to the railing so that he could see the full length of it, all the way to the top of the dome and down to the bottom floor. The immense size of it meant it was hard to see all at once, but he tried anyway. The whole thing gave him a sense of awe and vertigo.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. Beautiful.”
Kim glanced over at him. Harry wasn’t looking at the sculpture. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Kim, a strange look on his face. When he realised Kim was looking at him, he panicked.
“I mean… yeah! Look, Kim! Art pretty!” He pointed at the massive sculpture, then coughed. “I wonder, uh, I wonder what’s it’s called?”
Kim frowned and looked around. There was a plaque affixed to the railing. He read the words, trying to make sense of the looming construction.
Untitled 14. Panaiso Collective. CC ’49. Mixed media (balsa wood, acrylic, metal). This sculpture, collectively built by and attributed to the reclusive Panaiso Collective over a period of ten years and donated to the RMAM in ‘49, is thought to be a meditation of the workings of the universe. Based on a random number generator algorithm and built by a mixture of hard and soft materials, the sculpture destroys itself slowly as pieces sometimes move smoothly and sometimes grind against each other. The resultant wood shavings are collected at the bottom and burnt in the museum furnaces to provide warmth for the public observing the sculpture, as per the Collective’s instructions. Depending on the algorithm, the sculpture may last a hundred years or disappear in the next 20 years.
Harry ran his hand over the plaque. “That’s…”
“Horrible,” Kim added. “It’s… it’s like it’s celebrating entropy.”
“Maybe,” Harry said, softly. “It’s still beautiful right now, though. And it’ll keep being beautiful until it destroys itself.”
Kim hesitated, then looked up at the sculpture again. He did get it, dimly. It was beautiful, and horrible, impossible to understand, and too big – like the world. Or like love.
“No. You’re right. I get it.” He looked over at Harry, who was staring at the plaque. “But… maybe that’s enough for today. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
By the time they got out again it was dark out, and the street was dimly lit by yellow street lamps. The air was warm, the thousand intermingling smells and sounds of the city magnified and by the soft wind. Harry sighed and pushed the leaflets he brought into his pocket.
“That was amazing, Kim. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“It was. I, ah. I had a good time.”
“So…”
Silence fell, and they both stared at each other. Kim suddenly realised that he had no idea whatsoever about how step five was supposed to come about. If he ever had any ideas, they were all wiped out by the sight of Harry, under the street lamp, illuminated by its yellow radiance – casting him in bronze and russet, offset by the deep forest green of the surplus army greatcoat he’d no doubt found abandoned somewhere. Kim felt cold tendrils of disappointment in his stomach. All this preparation, and he still had no clue how to seduce someone.
This was a failure from start to finish.
Suddenly, Harry gave Kim a stiff, awkward grin and started patting his pockets with exaggerated gestures. “Oh no! I forgot my bus pass.”
Kim frowned. There was something wrong with his voice, higher pitched than usual, forced and unnatural. Maybe he didn’t have a good time. Maybe he just wants to get out of here as fast as possible?
Harry winced when he saw Kim’s reaction. “I mean, I-”
Whatever Harry was doing, it gave Kim an idea, finally. Transportation troubles! Yes! Of course!
“Ah, that’s a pity,” Kim interrupted, hurriedly, before Harry could finish and say something else weird. “Damn!” he added archly, realising that the words out of his own mouth sounded as forced and stupid as Harry’s.
Harry looked panicked. “What?”
“I just remembered,” Kim managed. “I’m nearly out of gas, it won’t take us all the way to your flat and back.”
Harry lit up again. “Oh, no! That’s such a shame.”
They stood and stared at each other again for several long seconds.
“Maybe I could-”
“Why don’t you-”
Harry put his hands up and let Kim take the lead. “No, you go on.”
Kim pushed down the panic and tried to sound casual. “You could sleep at my place. We’re just round the corner, after all. The sofa is… khm. It’s pretty comfortable. I mean, I’ve heard.” Kim fervently hoped that it was dark enough that Harry couldn’t see his ears.
Harry’s response came hurriedly, almost eagerly. “Yeah, that’d be excellent! Thanks, Kim, really.”
Kim gave him a nervous grin and started to walk back towards his flat. God, this is going so badly. He must be really dreading having to walk all the way back to his place.
Kim took out some bed linen and tried to make the sofa as comfortable as possible while Harry waited awkwardly. Kim gave him a nervous glance and gestured vaguely.
“Well, ah, you know where the bathroom is. You can borrow some toothpaste, and the shower, if you want…”
Harry nodded and fled. While he was in the bathroom, Kim went through his normal evening routine, trying to think of a way to salvage the incoherent mess his careful planning had devolved into. Without thinking, he took off most of his clothes and hung them over his desk chair. When he came out in the living room again, Harry was sitting on the sofa wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Kim felt all the blood in his head concentrate around his ears as he tried his very best not to look at him, not to acknowledge the fact that Harry was wearing less than he’d ever seen him wearing – basically half-naked. Both of them. Together. In the same room. He gave Harry a quick glance. He was pointedly looking around the flat, biting his lip and rubbing his hands together, not giving Kim even the most cursory look.
God. He doesn’t even want to look at me. Why did I ever think that this would be a good idea? Tomorrow, I swear I’ll never think about this ever again.
Kim forced a smile and gave the sofa an awkward pat. “There, detective. That should do it, right? Well, good night-”
“Hey, uh,” Harry interrupted. “Sorry, do- do you have an extra pillow?”
“Yes, I- yes. Of course. In the bedroom.”
Kim stored most of his extra gear in a long, weird, built-in closet that ran the length of one wall in his bedroom, just below the ceiling. It was practical, since it allowed for some much-needed floor space, but it was also hard to get to. Kim climbed up on the desk chair and gingerly opened one of the doors. While he rummaged around for a pillow, he glanced down at Harry. He was looking up at Kim with a strange look in his eyes, the same look he’d had when he studied the artworks in the museum – intense, analytical, full of…
Awe?
The distraction was all it took to lose his balance – the chair wobbled dangerously for a second, then tipped over. Kim scrabbled for purchase on the door, only for the knob to slip through his fingers – then felt himself suspended in the air for what couldn’t have been more than a heartbeat; he had time for a moment of regret and irritation that for all his hard work, he’d probably just end up with a concussion. Then, time caught up again, and he crashed right into Harry’s arms.
Harry caught him with a surprised grunt and steadied himself on his back foot, then lowered Kim to the ground with a panicked look, gripping his shoulders.
“Shit, Kim, you okay? You almost- damn, don’t do that, I nearly got a heart attack!”
Kim tried to regain his bearings. “Yes, I’m…”
He stopped and stared up at Harry. Warm hands on his shoulders; warm chest against his, separated by nothing but paper-thin cloth; and a pair of warm, green-grey eyes, staring into his with surprise, worry and desperate longing.
Harry wrapped his arms around Kim’s waist at the same time Kim grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into a fierce kiss.
Kim pushed all his doubt and fears aside, acting on pure need before anything happened that could spoil this moment for him. No more hesitation, no more overthinking. Just pounce. Kim broke off, then grabbed the front of Harry’s t-shirt and dragged him towards the bed.
“Bed. Now.”
Harry nodded fervently. “Yes, sir, whatever you say.”
Kim quirked an eyebrow. Oh, that’s interesting. We need to revisit that at some point. He pushed Harry down against the headboard and climbed on top of him, relishing the feel of his body below him, soft and strong and warm, warm skin against his, finally, finally. He reached down and kissed him again, open mouth, breathing in his exhalation, tongue against his lips.
Harry ran his hands along Kim’s sides like he was touching an artwork, precious and unique. “Fuck, Kim… you’re gorgeous. Perfect.”
“What?” Kim sat up and laughed. “Harry, I’m not. I’m scrawny and I’m going bald.”
“I don’t care. You’re amazing.”
Harry’s fingers dug into his abs, sliding beneath the hem of his boxers, making him shiver. Kim looked down at him, bathed in some sort of radiance that made everything beautiful, ignoring every flaw, or casting it as something desirable and good. Is this how you see me? Beautiful and horrible, impossible to understand, too big – like love.
“I don’t care,” Harry repeated. “I don’t care, Kim, I want you.”
Harry slid his hands up further, pulling the tank top off, then ran his lips over Kim’s chest, hot breath moving in the sparse hair, placing kiss after kiss before stopping short.
“Oh. This is… it’s for the aerostatics brigades, isn’t it?”
Kim looked down at Harry’s fingers, brushing across the stylised swallow placed over his heart, and sighed.
“Yes. I did it when I was still a teenager. Before I joined up. Stupid idea.”
Harry traced the tattoo’s blurred edges. “No. You wanted that. That’s not stupid.”
“It was just a dream.”
Harry leaned in and let the tip of his tongue run across the faded ink, then up. Kim dug his hands into his back, feeling the muscles tense as Harry pressed up against him, mouth ghosting over his throat. He grabbed the edge of Harry’s t-shirt and pulled that off as well, dragging greedy fingers through his chest hair, then leaned in and buried his face between his tits, breathing in the heady scent. God, finally. He let his tongue flick over one of the nipples, sucking at it, scraping his teeth across it, gently. Harry squirmed and panted, hands trembling as he held the back of Kim’s head.
“Bloody hell, Kim…”
Kim looked up and chuckled. “You like that?”
“Fuck, yes, just- those are, uh, kinda sensitive.” Harry’s chest was flushed, pulse fluttering under Kim’s fingers.
“Oh really? Good. Because I will be doing it again.”
Kim pulled his hand down his chest and over his softly furred belly, then down to the crotch, feeling the cock through the fabric. Harry gritted his teeth and lifted his hips, letting Kim get a better grip.
“Do you remember if you’ve ever fucked like this?”
“No idea, but I’m really hoping it’ll come to me.”
Kim slid his hand along Harry’s length. “In that case, will you do what I tell you?”
“Ah-” Harry took a deep, unsteady breath. “You know I’d do that anyway, Kim.”
“God, Harry. Don’t tempt me.” Kim grabbed his chin and tilted his head up, lapping at his neck.
“What? Hey, what? You can’t say something like that and not tell me what you’re thinking about!”
Kim tilted his chin back and shut him up with a kiss. “Next time. I promise. Right now, though…” He took his head in both hands. “I want to ride you.”
Harry swallowed. “Hell, yes.”
So easy, suddenly, all of it was so easy. Simply asking – no, telling him how he wanted it to be and there it was, as simple as a hell, yes. Kim cursed himself for waiting this long.
“I want you to finger me, first,” he continued and started to pull his underwear off. “You know how to do that?”
Harry licked his lips as he watched Kim strip. “Yeah, I read some. And, uh, I tried some.”
“Really? Let’s hope you’ve been a good student, then.” Kim lay back on the bed, one leg up. “There’s lube in the drawer.”
He watched Harry pull on a glove, thick fingers stretching out the latex, coating it in lube. How often have I been thinking of his hands the last month? Embarrassingly often. Then, those fingers were on him, much surer and more careful than he would have thought, teasing and circling before Harry eased into him, slowly.
“Is this right?”
Kim shifted his hips. “Ah... yes. Good. A bit more.” Harry pushed in a few more centimetres. “Yes, like that. Another finger.” He took a deep breath, trying not to clench. “Fuck, your hands are big...”
Harry stopped for a second, hand on his thigh. “Doing good?”
“God, yes. Keep going.”
“You look so good, Kim. God, you look so good.” Kim could feel his hand tightening on his thigh as Harry moved his fingers in and out. “Fuck… I really want you.”
Kim eyed the front of his boxers, damp with precum. “Yes, I can see that. I can see that very clearly.”
For a moment, Harry looked a bit panicked again. “Is that- are you gonna be okay? Should we-”
Kim couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I’ll be fine, Harry. I’ve had bigger. We’ll just go slow. A bit more.”
Harry continued, carefully, almost frustratingly gentle, placing soft kisses on Kim’s thighs and stomach as he worked; two long fingers massaging and scissoring, ghosting over the prostate. Kim squirmed with impatience, having to remind himself to allow the slow pace, savour the moment, no matter how much he wanted it; until finally, he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Ah, let’s- let’s switch.”
Harry pulled out and discarded the glove, then lay down in Kim’s place, shimmying out of his own underwear in the process. “You got a condom?”
Kim nodded and dug one out of the drawer, congratulating himself on keeping a fresh supply despite all indications that he wouldn’t need them any time soon. He kneeled and ran his hand along Harry’s cock, relishing the feel of the silky skin against his palm and the small noises he was making. Kim rolled the foreskin back, then put the condom on, using his mouth to roll it down, holding it in place as he let his lips work it in place. Harry watched him mutely, panting, fingers running through Kim’s hair. Kim grinned up at him, then sat up and lowered himself onto Harry’s cock, stopping for just a moment to pace himself and relax.
Harry sat up, hands on Kim’s chest, holding him steady. “You good?”
“Fuck yes. It’s just… it’s been a while. A couple years, in fact.” He patted Harry’s hand. “Lie back. Let me set the pace, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Harry lay back obediently, hands on Kim’s hips. Kim dug his hands into his shoulders, and concentrated on the warmth of his skin against his palms, burning heat, searing the nerves; his broad, strong hands on Kim’s body, exploring, fingers tracing the lines of his hipbones and up his spine, sending shivers up into the nape of his neck. Kim imagined what it would be like to let him set the pace, to have those hands force Kim down on his cock, again and again. Or to fuck him instead; to sling one of those long legs over his shoulders and drive into him, to have him clench around him.
Slowly, slowly. Relax. This is the first time; it won’t come again. There’ll be time for that later.
He started moving, carefully, sliding down, up, taking more of him as he leaned on his soft belly, the insides of his thighs slick with lube and sweat.
Harry whimpered underneath him. “Kim, oh my god…”
The sound of him was everything Kim had dreamt of. He started moving faster, and gasped in surprise as Harry immediately matched his stride, working into him at a steady rhythm, finding an angle that made his toes curl.
“Harry. I thought about…” He tried to concentrate as Harry dug his fingers into his asscheeks, opening him wider. “I thought about what you said. Ah- about the body remembering. But not the mind.”
“God, fuck- yeah?”
Kim cupped his chest and teased the nipples. “Are you remembering?”
Harry gasped, his hands tightening; his body flexed, pushing up into Kim, sliding over the prostate. Kim gritted his teeth and leaned down, sucking at a hairy tit, catching the nipple between his teeth. Harry bucked his hips again, breath coming ragged and desperate, and Kim growled in response.
“Kim, fucking hell, that feels…”
Kim shivered, and grabbed his nipples, pinching them hard. “Are- are you?”
“Fuck! Yes!”
Harry grabbed his hips and slammed him down, once, twice, and Kim keened. God, he knows. He couldn’t pretend to want to take it slow anymore. He pushed himself down, taking Harry all the way. Harry’s hands tightened on Kim’s hips, forcing him down, and all conscious thought left Kim’s mind, replaced by the need to be fucked as hard as possible. Fumbling, he put a sweaty hand on himself, the other gripping Harrys chest as he thrust up into Kim again and again, hitting that spot over and over.
“Kim, fuck, come on…”
Kim gave a strangled gasp as he came on Harry’s chest, sticky white smeared by his desperate hand. Underneath him, Harry made a few more thrusts before he stopped, trembling, hips tense and head thrown back; then, he relaxed, panting. Kim leaned on his heaving chest for a while before sliding off him.
Kim lay back and caught his breath as Harry pulled the soiled condom off, tied it off and threw it in the wastepaper basket. Kim gave him an amused glance.
“Well… you seem to remember more than you know.”
Harry chuckled and wiped his brow. “Yeah, I… I didn’t realise it, but. It makes sense.” He looked up in the ceiling. “Fits with a lot of other stuff.”
“I’m glad not all of it got lost.”
“Me too. But I’m more about the present right now, to be honest.” Harry turned over and looked at him with perfect adoration. “I didn’t know it would be this effective!”
Kim chuckled. The afterglow was making him giddy, relaxed. “How what could be this effective?”
“Seducing you.”
Kim sat up in the bed. “Wait, you- Harry, what? I’ve been seducing you.”
Harry laughed. “No you haven’t, I’ve been planning stuff for weeks! The dinner, the date at the race track… You know, I even asked a friend of yours for tips?”
“You’ve been planning- wait.” Kim froze as it slowly dawned on him. After all, he didn’t have that many friends. “Harry. Which friend?”
“Alice! She was so nice when we talked on the radio, and when we met that time? She’s so cute. And I remember you told me you guys hang out sometimes and talk, so I thought that… uh.” Harry stopped and looked hesitantly at him. “Kim? Are you okay?”
“Wh- pffft.” Kim had to fight hard to push down the laughter bubbling up through his chest, threatening to devour him whole. He breathed in through his nose and straightened his back. “Ah. When did- when did you ask her?” He could hear his voice slide up an octave as he pressed the last words out, trying his best to keep calm.
Harry looked at him, confused and a bit unsure. “Uuuh… about a month ago? You remember that night I was working way too late and I spilled coffee all over the reports? And then we went to the gym?” The confusion melted away, replaced by a look of simple wonderment. He reached out and cupped Kim’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with a callused thumb. “You looked so cool. And really, really sexy. And I, you know. I didn’t really know what to do. So I called her up. We made a list.” He scrambled up. “Wait, I’ll show you-”
He strode out into the living toom and fetched his trousers, then fished around in the pockets until he produced a crumpled, dog-eared piece of paper. As he put it on the bed and smoothed it out, Kim could see in clear, neat handwriting:
Shyness problem deconstruction task list
- Research
- Approach
- Dinner
- Date
- Seduction
- Fuck Kim’s brains out
- Boyfriend??
He stared at it. Fucking Alice DeMettrie. That was it, nothing to do anymore; Kim couldn’t keep himself from laughing another second. He doubled over on the bed, laughing until his abs protested and tears pressed their way out from under his eyelids. Harry watched him, a mix of utter confusion and happiness on his face.
“What? What are you laughing about?”
Kim wiped his eyes and leaned over to the nightstand, pulled out his own list and handed it to Harry. “This.”
Harry looked at the list, up at Kim, then at the list again. Then he fell back on the bed and groaned. “Oh my god, Kim… we’re so stupid.”
Kim took a deep breath. “Harry, I… I was so sure you weren’t interested.”
Harry looked up at him. “Not interested? Kim, I’ve been in love with you for months. I was afraid you didn’t… I didn’t want to scare you away, you know? And you’re so cool, and you look so good… I’m just so way out of your league. And I didn’t want to make it awkward, you know, if we’re gonna keep working together.” He shook his head. “But I couldn’t… I just can’t keep it cool around you. I thought I was fucking it up completely. Like, I did a thing, and you insisted on paying me back? I thought you were just being friendly, didn’t want to be in my debt, you know?”
Kim rubbed his face. “No, I- I was just… I didn’t know how to start. So I was just happy you did. It gave me an excuse. But I didn’t even realise what you were doing. God.”
“Okay, so,” Harry chuckled. “We should maybe work on communication? Call it step eight.”
Kim gave him a sidelong glance and fiddled with the lists. “So… are we not doing step seven, then?”
“In the spirit of step eight, this is my official declaration that I would very much want to try out step seven.” Harry grabbed Kim’s arm and pulled him down. “But why stop there? Let’s do the whole list backwards, just for flavour.”
Kim let the dog-eared papers fall on the floor.
It’s frustrating how one man can be so goddamn oblivious, indeed.