[Adam understands needing reassurances. He'd never admit it, but he wants it, too. He understood that words were important as much from the way that he desires them himself, as from the ways that the things his father said haunted him. His breath catches a little at Kavinsky's words, and he looks at him, unsure but not uninterested. Kavinsky's hands pressed to his hips, his voice like a purr and Adam just-- god.
It felt impossible not to fall for him, at least a little. When you had his attention like this, how did you refuse it? And it wasn't like he was exclusive with Skov and Swan, even if he was still sort of figuring out how that worked. He thought anyone in the pack was okay. But Kavinsky himself?]
Do you want to be?
[The words aren't quite smooth, but there's an intensity to it, genuine and heavy with suggestion. He doesn't look away, isn't sure he could if he wanted to because Kavinsky's dark eyes feel a little bit magnetic. He cares about him, and he thinks that he wants to be closer. Both in the way that means I want to touch you and the softer one that meant something that Adam didn't quite know the words for just yet.]
It wasn't really brave. I was.. I didn't want anyone else to have it. When we're awake, I'll tell you the story, if you want to hear it.
[Not even Gansey, though he doesn't say that outloud. But for a moment, there's something in his eyes, the side of himself that he tries to keep buried, hungry and dark. Adam is a sharp thing, because he was never given the option to be anything else.
When you hit a blade a hundred times you either broke it or honed the edge.
So at school he mimicks Gansey's mannerisms and his accent, like that could make him into something softer and more acceptable. But Kavinsky and his boys, they make him feel like maybe he's okay. Like maybe he doesn't have to sculpt himself into someone else in order to get what he needs. Like he can still be desirable, even with his Henrietta drawl that curls around the edges of his words. He isn't sure if it's true or not, but he likes the way that it makes him feel.
He lets his fingers against Kavinsky's chest slide up until they brush against his shoulder, curling them at the back of his neck, drawing him in just a little closer. Close enough to kiss, though he doesn't say it. But it's in his body, in the way that he shifts in towards him.]
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It felt impossible not to fall for him, at least a little. When you had his attention like this, how did you refuse it? And it wasn't like he was exclusive with Skov and Swan, even if he was still sort of figuring out how that worked. He thought anyone in the pack was okay. But Kavinsky himself?]
Do you want to be?
[The words aren't quite smooth, but there's an intensity to it, genuine and heavy with suggestion. He doesn't look away, isn't sure he could if he wanted to because Kavinsky's dark eyes feel a little bit magnetic. He cares about him, and he thinks that he wants to be closer. Both in the way that means I want to touch you and the softer one that meant something that Adam didn't quite know the words for just yet.]
It wasn't really brave. I was.. I didn't want anyone else to have it. When we're awake, I'll tell you the story, if you want to hear it.
[Not even Gansey, though he doesn't say that outloud. But for a moment, there's something in his eyes, the side of himself that he tries to keep buried, hungry and dark. Adam is a sharp thing, because he was never given the option to be anything else.
When you hit a blade a hundred times you either broke it or honed the edge.
So at school he mimicks Gansey's mannerisms and his accent, like that could make him into something softer and more acceptable. But Kavinsky and his boys, they make him feel like maybe he's okay. Like maybe he doesn't have to sculpt himself into someone else in order to get what he needs. Like he can still be desirable, even with his Henrietta drawl that curls around the edges of his words. He isn't sure if it's true or not, but he likes the way that it makes him feel.
He lets his fingers against Kavinsky's chest slide up until they brush against his shoulder, curling them at the back of his neck, drawing him in just a little closer. Close enough to kiss, though he doesn't say it. But it's in his body, in the way that he shifts in towards him.]
But I like that you think I am.