VORTAS 2, 2719 ❁ WAY TOO LATE
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It was the same when Gideon's other hand found his neck, cold against his skin. He would have shivered, again, if he was not shivering already, but he made no attempt to remove the hand, dangerous as it was to keep it there. As far as he was concerned, it could stay there for as long as it pleased, pressing, holding, suffocating, whatever Gideon wished it to do. He wondered if Gideon thought about it, when they put their hand there. He wondered if it even crossed their mind, or if it came to rest there out of habit, out of necessity to hold him in place. He wondered if Gideon thought about how easy it would be to kill him, despite the niceties, despite the way his lips parted so easily when theirs pressed for it.
He hoped they thought about it. Even if it lasted only a moment, he hoped the thought was there.
Lars inhaled as the taller pulled ever-so-slightly away, quiet, but shaky and audible nonetheless. His eyes opened just enough to see Gideon's face (at least, what he could see of it in the pale light), and his lips remained parted, drawing in quiet breaths from the narrow space between their faces. He nodded, feeling as his hair caught behind his head against the wall, and moving it anyway. He let go of Gideon's collar, his hand sliding slightly upwards to brush against their jaw in an almost inquisitive fashion.
"Yeah," he agreed, even if he didn't immediately try to move out of the human's hold. "'ve got a fire. Fire... fireplace. One 'f those." The passive's mouth curved into half a grin, and he dropped his hand from Gideon's back. The one resting along their jaw remained for a moment longer, and he pushed forward, kissing them again - it was brief, this time, just enough to catch and release, just enough to make him wonder why they had to go inside at all, but to remind him that yes, it was fucking cold outside. Gideon was right. He had a fireplace inside, and there were plenty of walls in there if he felt the need to be pushed against one again, right?
He moved, finally, his hand falling from the line of their jaw to rest upon Gideon's hand, where it sat at his neck. His fingers slipped over it, pulling it (unfortunately) away from the delicate skin but keeping it in his own once he'd stepped to the side. Lars told reminded himself not to stare, there were places to be, but it was difficult still to look away. He managed, somehow, and brought the taller with him as he walked towards the door.
It was unlocked, even if the doorknob was way too fucking cold, and Lars moved inside and continued towards the stairs without much care for if the door was ever shut or not. The stairs were not steep, nor were they drawn out in some long, winding path, but their mere presence, keeping him from his apartment for those extra few moments, was enough to drag a sound of annoyance from the passive's lips. Still, despite the minor obstacles and annoyances, it didn't take much longer for the Hessean to get them to his door.
There was still a faint mark against the frame, a pale pink now that it had been scrubbed, that looked like it might have been a hand print before. Lars pushed open the door with his shoulder, stumbling inside when the weight of it gave way.
"Ah -" he corrected himself before he fell, and stood still, his hand still holding Gideon's. He laughed, quiet, "figure almost dyin' isn't enough t' help with that trick?"
Oh, he hadn't forgotten. There was no way he could forget about such cryptic statements, no way he couldn't be curious. Lars swallowed, looking to the corner, where the fireplace stood cold.
"I'll get - get that going. No hy... hypotherm... ia. Don't wanna die like that. Don't want y' to die in here, either, no space."