"I don't mind." he confirms, dropping his hand from the shirt. When Eliot carefully places a hand on his shoulder, he lets the gentle weight of it turn him away from the shirt and the closet. He feels his heart rate pick up pace with the physical reminder of what Eliot touching him with intent felt like the other night.
He watches as Eliot's gaze drifts from his face to his throat, no doubt looking at the still healing cut there. Maybe it's that reminder of him under a blade that makes Eliot step back and put distance between them again. The gentle laugh and the compliment together feels almost self-effacing, but Jack remembers Eliot over him pinning to the sand and grinning, he remembers his steady gaze. Could it be that Eliot's step back is a distance he's inviting him to breach?
"They'll fit. I trust you on the impression." He says mildly, taking a moment to hold up the brown jeans against the crochet shirt, before hanging them together on the closet door. He can trust Eliot's fashion sense for this era; he doubts that he would steer him wrong or point him to something that would be inappropriate or unflattering. What he wears for Jacob hardly matters to him anyway. This date is an exercise in proving to himself that he can learn on his own what being with men is like, here. That he might learn to Love Jacob or live with him feels like an academic proposal as much as Jacob's own interest in him as an artifact from a bygone time. He'll go and then see how he feels after.
Eliot is different- He wishes that an academic approach made sense- that he could study his body language and find conclusive evidence about what he wants.
He hesitates for a second, his hand steadying the shirt as he wills himself to bridge the gap between them. It occurs to him then that, even if Eliot does still want him for sex, that the reason he'd been quiet after the last time was that he had wanted him but he'd been expecting a man hard enough not to melt under his soft touch and easy commands. Maybe he'd done it all wrong. Maybe Eliot wanted him to be stronger, and this weakness here is just more evidence that he's not what Eliot needs.
His feet feel glued to the ground. If Eliot wants him to be aggressive, he can't bring himself to try. he bites his lip, trying not to fidget or look nervous as he turns back to Eliot. Finally, he manages to take half a step closer, enough to reach out and straighten the already perfectly laid line of the lapel on Eliot's shirt. He raises his eyebrows, questioning, "Unless getting me out of my clothes was the whole point of bringing me back here?"
no subject
He watches as Eliot's gaze drifts from his face to his throat, no doubt looking at the still healing cut there. Maybe it's that reminder of him under a blade that makes Eliot step back and put distance between them again. The gentle laugh and the compliment together feels almost self-effacing, but Jack remembers Eliot over him pinning to the sand and grinning, he remembers his steady gaze. Could it be that Eliot's step back is a distance he's inviting him to breach?
"They'll fit. I trust you on the impression." He says mildly, taking a moment to hold up the brown jeans against the crochet shirt, before hanging them together on the closet door. He can trust Eliot's fashion sense for this era; he doubts that he would steer him wrong or point him to something that would be inappropriate or unflattering. What he wears for Jacob hardly matters to him anyway. This date is an exercise in proving to himself that he can learn on his own what being with men is like, here. That he might learn to Love Jacob or live with him feels like an academic proposal as much as Jacob's own interest in him as an artifact from a bygone time. He'll go and then see how he feels after.
Eliot is different- He wishes that an academic approach made sense- that he could study his body language and find conclusive evidence about what he wants.
He hesitates for a second, his hand steadying the shirt as he wills himself to bridge the gap between them. It occurs to him then that, even if Eliot does still want him for sex, that the reason he'd been quiet after the last time was that he had wanted him but he'd been expecting a man hard enough not to melt under his soft touch and easy commands. Maybe he'd done it all wrong. Maybe Eliot wanted him to be stronger, and this weakness here is just more evidence that he's not what Eliot needs.
His feet feel glued to the ground. If Eliot wants him to be aggressive, he can't bring himself to try. he bites his lip, trying not to fidget or look nervous as he turns back to Eliot. Finally, he manages to take half a step closer, enough to reach out and straighten the already perfectly laid line of the lapel on Eliot's shirt. He raises his eyebrows, questioning, "Unless getting me out of my clothes was the whole point of bringing me back here?"