( it's true, he doesn't want to think about their complicated start. honestly he is quickly verging on a path where he doesn't want to think about anything. a rarity for Matt, he spends too much time thinking and often times over thinking. right now, he's falling back to a place where he wants to feel and experience more than he wants to let his thoughts run in circles. carve out paths of blame and guilt that changed nothing and made him miserable. which is not to say he won't do that, at some point. he just doesn't mean to do it now.
Matt hadn't predicted how this conversation would go, though it's safe to say he hadn't expected it to go quite this far. he'd have assumed he didn't want intimacy so soon, while she was still fragile and they were still making sense of each other in a way they hadn't let themselves in years. right now, though, he's not at all interested in letting go, setting any more lines or restrictions. even if this is as far as they go, finding simple delight in the taste and touch of each other on his musty old couch like teenagers, he thinks he'll be content.
there's a hum of approval in the back of his throat as she presses forward, eliminating space between them. he's held her a few times since she stumbled to his door in a panic, though there's something to be said about being this close because they want to be, and not because she's terrified. his hands are determined to travel, because despite his explorative touches so far... he's far from content. one is tipped through the fine strands of her hair to hold her fast as he reminds himself of the taste of her mouth. the other tightens on her hipbone, just for a moment, before moving behind her to run the sharp notches of her spine. even through the thin fabric of his shirt, it's as familiar as running his fingers along piano keys. might seem like an odd touch, if it weren't also a familiar one. he has always been fixated on the strong muscle of her back, the narrow cut of her spine. )
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Matt hadn't predicted how this conversation would go, though it's safe to say he hadn't expected it to go quite this far. he'd have assumed he didn't want intimacy so soon, while she was still fragile and they were still making sense of each other in a way they hadn't let themselves in years. right now, though, he's not at all interested in letting go, setting any more lines or restrictions. even if this is as far as they go, finding simple delight in the taste and touch of each other on his musty old couch like teenagers, he thinks he'll be content.
there's a hum of approval in the back of his throat as she presses forward, eliminating space between them. he's held her a few times since she stumbled to his door in a panic, though there's something to be said about being this close because they want to be, and not because she's terrified. his hands are determined to travel, because despite his explorative touches so far... he's far from content. one is tipped through the fine strands of her hair to hold her fast as he reminds himself of the taste of her mouth. the other tightens on her hipbone, just for a moment, before moving behind her to run the sharp notches of her spine. even through the thin fabric of his shirt, it's as familiar as running his fingers along piano keys. might seem like an odd touch, if it weren't also a familiar one. he has always been fixated on the strong muscle of her back, the narrow cut of her spine. )