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Maybe it’s because he’s so used to pushing people away, never letting them close enough to hurt him. Maybe it’s because he’s never opened himself up to someone the way he has to Thap, never trusting anyone to stay.
Maybe that’s the reason Thap’s touch has a tendency to linger, even after it’s moved on. Like the way In can still feel Thap’s fingers trailing down his side, even though they’re now hooked in the waistband of his pants. Or the way he can still feel Thap’s mouth on his, even though he’s laying behind him, his breath warm against In’s ear.
In between the soft touches and reverent glances, there’s Thap’s voice, asking, never assuming.
Is this alright? Does it feel good? Are you okay? Is it too much?
The care and attention he gives to In, that he’s always given to In, even when In fought against it, punished Thap for it—it’s almost too much. Not in a stop kind of way, but in a I don’t think I’m capable of holding this much love inside me kind of way. In’s overwhelmed with it, with the feeling that wells inside him as Thap touches, whispers, holds, moves. In is like clay in Thap’s hands, letting himself be molded and fired as Thap sees fit. And that’s okay, because he trusts Thap, he’s come to realize.
And for some unknown, blessed reason, Thap trusts In. Trusts him enough to let In push him onto his back and straddle his hips. In’s blanket is spread under him, and In has half a mind to move it, but seeing Thap laid out, the stars beneath him—it’s fitting. He expanded In’s universe when In thought there was nothing left for him but loneliness and heartbreak. In will forever be grateful to him, and he’s not convinced there’s anything he can do to repay Thap or show his gratitude that will suffice, but he figures he has his whole life left to try.
Because he fully intends to spend the rest of his life with this man. How could he not, when Thap looks at him like that and touches him with such reverence? Who would ever give up a gift as perfect as this?
In does his best to replicate Thap’s touch, wondering if his lingers the way Thap’s does when In wraps his hand around Thap and guides him to where In is aching for him. He wonders if Thap’s breath is stolen from his lungs, too, when In slides down, bringing In into him fully, completely. In knows it must feel as good for Thap as it does for him, because Thap throws his head back and grips In’s hips hard enough to bruise, but In isn’t angry. He’s thankful for the imprints, and he’ll wear them with pride until they fade. And then he’ll ask for more.
I love you slips from In’s lips, the words coming so easily where they’d previously fought against him. Thap answers, of course he does, and in those three words In hears promises and oaths he knows Thap will honour.
After, when they’re spent and slipping into sleep, In takes stock of all the places Thap has touched him and finds his touch lingers most in his heart. In keeps it there, tucked away safely, where no one can take it from him.