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Everything about him was a forest fire. From the way warm fingers flickered to trace his own ears, to the way energy crackled between them when their lips touched, touched, touched again. It was intoxicating, and it burned, but he pressed closer, letting his fire envelope him, breathing in the smoke as if he needed it to survive. He knew this would destroy him, but he let it. It felt too good to let go now.
He found himself pulled back in every time he even thought about leaving, though it didn’t take much to sway him. He’d stay like this forever if he could--the soft sweetness spoken in whispers between kisses, the frantic yet shy hands, exploring as far as the other would let.
“Mm… Apollo,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against Apollo’s, his breath hot on his cheek. He didn’t say anything more, but nothing needed to be said. It was a silent conversation conversed through subtle looks, hooded eyes and quiet panting.
Hands left Apollo’s waist, leaving an empty space that begged to be filled, and he whined. He’d be ashamed of his desperation if not for the all-consuming thought of “ more ” playing on repeat in his mind like a broken record. Apollo grabbed his wrists, pleading.
The motion earned him a chuckle, and much to Apollo’s dismay, he stepped fully back, though he looked just as pained to do so as Apollo felt. He immediately felt cold.
“It’s getting late,” he said, looking out the clear glass window, an overview of the bustling city of Los Angeles. Lights flickered below in buildings of all different sizes, the night life rising from the ashes as it did every evening. “You need to go home.”
“I don’t,” Apollo breathed, his voice low. “I can stay.”
He looked back at Apollo with a smile that tinged on sad, his blue eyes glittering in the low light. Everything about him was beautiful--a statement that had been said many a time before, but no one had seen him like this, no one had the privilege of seeing him on the cusp of being undone, his hair tousled gently around his face, his cheeks a bright pink evident even in the dark room. Nobody saw him with a soft glow about him, both from his own lust and the reflection of the city lights below. Nobody saw the way his shirt cut revealed skin both at his chest and his stomach, his low-hung pants barely clinging to his hips in a way that was on the brink of mouthwatering. Klavier Gavin was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and he wanted nothing more but to spend the night appreciating every single one of his details.
Klavier moved his hand as if to reach for Apollo, to touch him again, and every fiber of Apollo’s being craved it, but it was back by his side in a flash, as if Klavier was aware of the rabbit’s hole he was getting himself into. Instead, he spoke. “You’re drunk.”
A not untrue statement. Apollo was at the very least buzzed, even though his last drink had been hours ago and his only drink a few glasses of rum and coke. Lightweight though he was, Apollo felt that he was in-control of himself enough to understand what he wanted. And all he wanted right then was Klavier.
“I’m fine,” he said, stepping back towards Klavier. Klavier took an equally matched step back.
“You may feel fine, Apollo,” Klavier said, the letters of his name rolling off his tongue in a way that made Apollo feel much more than fine, “but drunk is drunk. We may continue when you’re sober and more aware of your actions.”
Somewhere within him, Apollo was glad that Klavier was sticking his ground, that he was looking out for him like this. But the poison in his system clouded his thoughts until all that was left coherent was an insatiable desire. “Please,” he said, voice edging on a whisper.
“You need to go home.”
Something about the bluntness of his words caught Apollo, a stinging in his heart from such a blatant refusal. “I can’t,” he replied, “I’m drunk.”
“I’ll call a cab.”
“Don’t leave me alone!” Apollo’s voice raised, desperation saturating his words. “I don’t want to be alone, not tonight.” Though, Klavier seemed adamant about Apollo returning home, so… he negotiated.
“If I really have to go home, can you take me?”
Klavier’s face softened, his thumbs unhooking from his pockets to let his hands rest at his sides. Maybe it was the distress Apollo was in, or maybe it was his uncharacteristic outburst, but either way, Klavier had obviously changed his pace.
“I can’t drive you home, I don’t trust that I’m sober enough either. But,” he said, stepping closer to Apollo again, taking his hands into his own, his fingers rubbing against the backs of Apollo’s hands soothingly, “I can allow you to stay. On a few conditions, of course.”
Apollo immediately brightened, but he was still weary. “What conditions?”
Klavier smiled so sweetly, making Apollo’s stomach sink both in absolute adoration and fear for the words to come. “First, we are not sleeping in the same room. You may take my bed, I’ll take the couch.”
Disappointing, but fair and expected. “Got it. Next?”
“This is our last conversation for the night. I am going straight to bed and so are you.” Unspoken words hung on the end of his sentence, but Apollo’s mind was too numb to even begin to decipher what they were.
“Actual sleeping. Okay. Is that it?”
“I’m taking you back to your apartment first thing in the morning.”
The idea of them sharing their morning together like some domestic couple that had been in love for years was so appealing, and yet Klavier didn’t appear to think the same. Disappointment must have shown on Apollo’s face, because he quickly amended his rule.
“...You may stay for breakfast. Then you go home.”
Apollo grinned and squeezed Klavier’s hands, reaching up to press a chastise kiss to his cheek. “Sounds good to me.”
“Good,” Klavier said, letting go of Apollo to turn towards the hallway. “Follow me then, I’ll show you to my room.”
And that was the last Apollo remembered of that night before he promptly fell asleep on Klavier’s bed, exhaustion suddenly made evident the moment he lied still.