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Warm air touched his face, hot breath lingering over his lips. Several agonizing seconds stretched into years in his memory as he waited for something to come.
He was used to waiting just to get nothing after.
The breath moved away, slowly and shakily, and he wanted to chase it himself even if it ended up costing him his life. Yet he stayed in place and waited.
He felt hot lips press to his jawline, their surface not exactly soft, but rough in all the right ways. Then a warm hand landed gently on the side of his neck, long fingers reaching into his hair, fingertips massaging his scalp in maddening patterns. The lips trailed down his neck leaving hot wet trails of pure bliss on his skin. It felt like they were trying to map out every curve and crook of muscle he had. Sucking under his jaw, moving to behind his ear, soft kisses landing on every bit of exposed skin with the devotion of someone desperately praying to God to either kill them or give any reason to stay.
He wanted to open his eyes so badly. To look at the shattering glass at his feet. To reach his hands and hold it oh so tenderly that his own blood would feel like a warm embrace.
He made a promise not to.
He felt that it was the worst mistake of his life.
Had he not promised to not look, the hands and lips would never find his skin, would never press all the right switches in his body, would never caress him like there was no tomorrow. And he would not have known this utter pleasure of finally being with someone he desired for what felt like eternity.
There would be no regret, if he had nothing to begin with. Now though he knew the bliss he could have all to himself and he felt it slip away just as fast as it engulfed him.
He knew this wouldn't last. No matter how truthfully he kept his promise, how hard he squeezed his eyes shut and how stubbornly he denied his own hands the freedom to touch the other's body in return — the man whose body fit with his like a puzzle piece would run away the second his lips lifted off his neck.
Years of silent yearning and observation taught him that intimacy would shatter the aching cracks under the other's skin. That softness and warmth would burn the last bridge together with every hope of peace he had.
He knew the glass would give in and scatter all over the ground, cracking painfully under his boots. But he was a selfish man after all.
Why couldn't they just be like this forever? Trusting that the other would never do any harm, therefore allowing oneself complete vulnerability? Why did the man he so desperately wanted to just see would not allow him to get even a glimpse? Why did he build walls so high no one would even dare to try get through them, but he himself could use as a platform to jump from?
Each kiss blessing his skin felt like a bullet he put through the other's skull. He wanted to cry but only shuddered and gasped under the man's touch.
Then the kisses stopped. He felt his heart drop as soft hair pressed to his jawline. The hands slipped from his hair to grasp at his shoulders, trembling fingers curling in clutched fists holding onto his clothes. A new kind af warmth spread over his neck, but it no longer graced his skin, it tainted his whole being.
He heard the muffled sobs and felt the aching tremble of the body firmly pressed to his. His skin burned under the wet trails of foreign tears streaming down his neck. It felt like his guts were being slowly carved out of his stomach as the broken man clinged to his body, his tears washing off the bliss of previous contact.
He didn't know what to do or say. Or if there was even anything to do. If there was any way he could stop the inevitable. If he could hold the man strong yet gentle enough to both not let him slip away and not break his every bone.
He stayed still, letting the other's tears fall down to his chest.
It hurt like hell.
"Please don't leave me..."
His voice broke as he spoke before he could stop himself. His head fell lower, nose pressing to the top of the other man's head and his hands shot up wrapping around the other's shoulders trying to hold as much of the glass in place as he could before it all withered away like sand through his fingers. The sharp edges were sure to cut, but he would gladly bare the pain as long as it meant having the one he loved in his grasp.
He expected the hands that had caressed him so gently to push him away, the lips that worshiped him to spit venom in his face, the warm body to grow cold and distant, legs carrying it as far away from him as it could get.
But nothing came.
The man in his hold was still there, his shoulders quivering even more violently, his head sliding lower, wet face pressing into his chest, fists grabbing onto his shoulders like they were his only lifeline, broken sobs filling the air between them.
That felt like a promise.