“It’s because you speak French, isn’t it?”
Sat on the couch together, Alfred’s question comes out of the blue one day. So much so, that Matthew’s caught completely off-guard and can only turn to blink at the blonde.
“You know,” Alfred says, gesturing vaguely with his hands as if Matthew’s being obtuse. “You gotta be good with your tongue to speak French, so that’s why you’re so good at kissing too, right?”
“Oh.” Matthew’s pauses, his small smile widening as Al’s words sink in. A touch embarrassed and a touch flattered, he says, “I didn’t realize you thought so highly of my kisses.”
“Seriously?” Alfred stares at him, eyes wide behind his glasses and mouth mockingly agape, before shaking his head with a laugh. “Come on, you’ve had to notice how quick it gets me going.”
“Mmm.” Shaking his head in turn, Matthew puts aside his newspaper in favour of turning towards Alfred more fully. He leans forward to climb into Alfred’s personal space, abruptly reducing the distance between them to mere centimeters. Lips brushing over Alfred’s, he says, “But I’m willing to notice now.”