36

Dinner is delicious.

Winston swallows every bite in record time, hunching over the plate and gulping it down like he's a starving bear. Not once does he look up; too aware of Jason's gaze on him and too aware of his own awareness of Jason in turns.

Finally, though, he has to put the fork down for good. The plate is entirely clear, and he licks his lips. There's still a burn on his tongue from the spices he can't actually handle that well, but he chugs down some milk and pretends it's fine.

Worth it.

Slumping against the couch's backrest, he smacks his lips together and draws his hands over them, only realizing in hindsight that he hadn't eaten very cleanly. Grabbing a paper towel, he rubs his hand and puts the paper away, at last daring to turn to face Jason.

Jason, who is sitting beside him on the couch, because Winston doesn't have a single chair.

Jason, who has been looking at Winston throughout the entire meal.

Jason, who cooked for Winston in Winston's tiny kitchen nook. In his apartment.

Just... Jason.

Winston shudders. "Thank you for the meal," he smiles. Pushes an ever lengthening strand of hair behind his ear and exhales. His stomach is in that dreaded bloating state signifying he ate too much, but he doesn't much care. Merely pulls a pillow to his chest and hides the bottom of his face in it, peeking at Jason.

Jason grins. "No problem." He winks, "You clearly liked it."

Winston snorts. He shoves his entire face in the pillow for a second, overwhelmed to the point of stupidity, and is grateful Jason lets him be. Allows him to gather his thoughts even though, bizarrely, he also wants Jason to push.

Exhaling, Winston comes out of hiding. He looks at Jason, lowering the pillow to his slightly aching stomach, and says, "Really. Thanks. You're an amazing cook."

Jason blushes. He does it so prettily, the flush spreading over his cheeks and the tip of his ears, and Winston drinks the sight in like a starving man. He wishes to touch that blush, he realizes, wants to run his hands over the skin, find out what it feels like, paint it like a memory.

Jason ducks his head, and it's only then Winston realizes he's been staring. Clearing his throat, Winston says, "Thank you for the lovely meal. And the lovelier company."

Jason blush deepens, and Winston is but a man. He can not be held accountable for his thoughts, though they amount to nothing more than a romantic romp in the sheets. If it could be called that.

Jason blinks rapidly, brushing his hand through his hair and pulling a little on the curly strands on top, the sides recently shaved down again. He shakes his head, looking at Winston with a clear gaze that nonetheless is too soft to be real. Sometimes Winston thinks Jason is a CHARACTER FROM A MOVIE WHEN HE LOOKS AT HIM; BECAUSE IS SO good, so pretty, so kind and gentle and sweet, and he does things like this for Winston without a word.

But the Jason before him is undeniably, unbearably, real.

"I don't mind, really," Jason says, voice soft in the darkening apartment, the lights from the candles on the coffee-table dancing over his face. It's a warm light, and it brings out the faint trace of freckles over Jason's nose.

Winston is entranced. He can't help it, doesn't want to help it, not when Jason is looking at him like that and Winston's stomach is full of butterflies, fingers tingling and heart pounding a rather fast rhythm.

"Can I-" Winston inhales sharply. "Kiss?"

Jason's blush explodes. Winston didn't think the color could go deeper, but Jason is a fountain of surprises. "Yeah," Jason rasps, voice rough and deeper than Winston has ever heard it.

Winston licks his lips. He puts the pillow away and scoots closer to Jason, watching Jason's face the entire time. He doesn't want to miss a thing, doesn't want a single expression to go without witness.

They're close enough their legs touch, now, thighs pressing together. And even through the layers of clothes, the warmth is distracting. Winston's eyes shut for the briefest moments, his breath hitching in his throat.

He is, for a moment, overcome with doubt.

It doesn't go anywhere; the desire curling through his veins is all-consuming.

Opening his eyes, he makes direct eye-contact with Jason. It's a mistake; his breath catches in his throat and his mind goes blank. They're so close, and Jason is so magnetizing, and Winston feels like he's floating. He breathes, and it seems to fill up his whole body, turn him into a balloon that can float away at any time.

Jason's eyes are wide, and his plush lips are parted, and Winston can't stop looking. Jason murmurs, "You're beautiful," and Winston can barely hear it over the rushing in his ears if not for his hyperfocus on Jason.

"I can see stars in your eyes," murmurs Winston in reply, voice faint even to his own ears.

Jason wets his lips, tongue poking out for the briefest of seconds, and Winston's eyes track every inch of the motion. He leans forward, until they are so close he can feel the air move when Jason breathes.

His chest aches. His fingers dig deep into the cushions below him, arms straining from staying still. His eyes search Jason's face, looking for any indication that Jason doesn't want this, that Jason will change his mind. But he finds only want, only need, only a desire matching the beating of his heart.

They are so close, and Winston is so tense, and---he leans forward. Crosses the last, tiny bit of distance, Jason bending his head to meet him, and that first press of lips together is gentle. Easy. Doesn't quite match up, in fact, but Jason tilts his head and the next press of lips works better.

Winston breathes out and in through his nose, desperate to not move away. The exhalation is an unsteady, staggered thing, bringing Jason's scent into his nostrils, tingling in his nose.

Free-falling, Winston grabs Jason's shoulders for support, one more press of their lips together -- still achingly chaste -- entirely overwhelming. Jason's shoulders are strong, muscled, and Winston hangs on for everything he's worth.

Jason curls an arm around Winston's waist, his other hand grabbing the back of Winston's head, entangling in the hair. Winston's eyes-lashes flutter, his stomach clenching hard, and he presses himself closer to the other man. Seeks that warmth, that connection, wants more than anything for them to melt into one.

The next kiss is deeper. Jason controls the pace, turns Winston's head so they align just right, though their noses still bumps. It's nice, Winston thinks, and when he parts his lip and feels Jason sucking on his bottom lip, his mind goes blanker than it's ever been in his life.

Jason lets his lip go, and then they're tongue are touching and Winston makes noises he didn't think himself capable of. Has kissing ever felt like this before? He doesn't know, can't remember ever kissing another person in his life even though surely he must have.

Groaning, he presses up against Jason until they're connected from top to bottom, as entangled as two people can be, and proceeds to drown in sensations.

He doesn't have any idea how long they spend just kissing, but he doesn't ever want it to stop. Doesn't want to ever let go, or he swears he'll be lost.

So he drowns himself in Jason, sinks deep before he can ever be tossed aside. And if he has a realization or two about his feelings, that's really no one's business but his.

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A/N: yes i saw the random caps, no i'm not fixing it. again, this is unedited!