#aaron swanson: hi. sim: my spine has suddenly disappeared.

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THE HEAT IN HIS CHEEKS IS SUCH THAT SIMEON SWEARS HE CAN FEEL IT PERMEATING THE SHEET MASK ON HIS FACE, WARMING IT AS THEY SPEAK. suddenly it feels a bit humid, which isn't helped by the fact that he also feels short of breath, as though something had caught in his chest and pulled, along with the pesky fluttering in the pit of his stomach that seems to have become a habit of his subconscious whenever his curator is around. although aaron's answering laugh is in no way unexpected, it earns him a prim huff - which is quickly extinguished when sim is pushed up against the nearest wall and loses the rest of his breath entirely. in an instant, they are face to face and simeon's mind has gone blank, every word on his lips evaporating into thin air with it. despite all efforts to the contrary, he can feel his eyes go wide and his back press further against the wall as he half relaxes against it, allowing his head to tilt backward to meet it - which coincidentally provides him a perfect eye line to aaron's face as he lingers above him. he attempts to reach into the depths of his brain, to find some clever retort to the claim of cute, but it feels as impossible as digging through four feet of fresh powdered snow.

" silk, it's ... " he clears his throat and his tone drops a little, " yes, it's silk. " he's caught the craving in those green eyes, the way the other man looks like he might want to devour him whole, and sim tries to ignore the shiver it sends down the path of his spine, the warmth that pools in his stomach. it's obscene, he thinks, for aaron to look at him that way in his current state of ridiculous, in his robe ( short, as has been said ) with his curls wild over the crescent of his headband and a sheet mask obscuring his features. it's obscene - and never has he felt more desired. " it's ... almost to my knees, it's not that - " the sentence trails off as he feels aaron toying with the hem of it, familiar fingers brushing against his exposed thigh in the process. his knee tilts toward the touch, brushing the side of his lover's in the process, the movement of his leg parting the bottom of the robe ever slightly to match the opening of it at his chest.

it occurs to him, for a brief moment, that this might kill him. it occurs to him at precisely the same time that he might not care.

" the notice or the robe? " he manages, unable to sound anything but a little breathless, despite his reliable ability to make a joke even in the most inappropriate of moments. you're acting childish, a voice deep within him scolds, like some teenager with their first crush. hadn't you outgrown this? yet in the haze of them, he can't find it in himself to move, to lean into logic, to grasp at his senses the way he always managed to when confronted with romantic notions, at least for over a decade now. those senses flee at the touch of aaron's fingers at his hem, at the brush of his lips against his thumb. his fingers brush distractedly against the sharp line of aaron's jaw as though he can't help himself. " and you haven't even seen the place yet. just - " the word me dies on his tongue, but it hangs in the air as if it's been said, as if simeon isn't too busy staring at his unexpected visitor's mouth.

his mind turns the words over and over, but he cannot make sense of them, as if they were spoken in some language he doesn't know. the question of what he's actually doing here lingers relentlessly with the unquestionable knowledge that that it certainly cannot be only for him. yet, somehow, his gut insists otherwise, a notion he assumes must be an absurd sort of idealistic hope, entirely out of character when it comes to matters of the heart. the mask has begun to feel sticky on his face, uncomfortably so, especially given the flush that's now spread to his ears, and after a moment, he pulls it from his face with his free hand and tosses it to the side on the floor with a mumbled " fuck it " before grasping aaron around the waist with his arm and pulling him in rather abruptly. the taste of aaron's mouth pulls an immediate groan from him that turns nearly to a whimper as he softens, letting his lips part further, sliding an exploratory tongue over aaron's own. even as they kiss, he can feel some of the remaining residue from his discarded face mask transferring to his lover's cheeks and chin, although it hardly seems to deter either of them, at least not until sim pulls back an inch, panting, more flushed than before, the headband askew and his hair wilder than ever.

" couldn't wait, huh? good. " he gasps, barely realizing that his robe has slipped off of one of his shoulders in the mess of his sudden impulse. his gaze flickers over aaron's face, and for another moment, he is again lost for words before he manages to flutter his eyelashes, shake his head once, and bring himself back to at least a fraction of his senses. " are you ... in town for business? or just for - " but his tongue ties, again, over the word me, despite how obvious it is, despite the way his eyes go wide and soft, nearly imploring. " anyway, I lied. you can have tea. even though you laughed. if you promise to kiss me like that again. "

FUCK - he hears it even through the heavy door. it is hardly the first time he finds himself wondering if this was a good idea. he's questioned his actions while he was packing, on the way to the airport, on the plane ( 10 hours in a too small seat on the only available flight out on a monday morning ) and during the check in and quick shower at the hotel. THE LIST OF REASONS WHY THIS IS A HORRIBLE IDEA STRETCHES FROM THE VERY DOORSTEP OF THE APARTMENT ALL THE WAY BACK TO ITALY. there'd be the fact that simeon sommerfeld's billboard was smiling down at him from the billboard at the baggage reclaim area, all brilliant blue eyes and bright teeth. like the universe itself wanted to remind him that hey, he's not in your league, kid . if it was just that, though? just the stardom and the probability of aaron being a mere distraction for a man with a busy and thrilling life, he'd not second guess himself for a minute. he wouldn't care, would gladly fall upon that sword with his arms spread. a risk he'd take blindfolded and with feet bound, to be chewed up and spat out by a man who makes him feel a rush he's not experienced before. no, if the potential heartbreak of aaron swanson - what a mouthful - would be the biggest risk here he would've followed him not even an hour after simeon's plane from italy departed. but the forces at play here go beyond big hollywood paychecks and cameras snapping pictures of your every move. there's also the fact that every aspect of his life is dangerous to a degree where he's putting not just his own physical well-being at risk, but his and his loved ones' very lives. AND HE DOES NOT HAVE MANY OF THOSE ( loved ones, that is ). another reason why new york is a bad idea. puts the city on the literal map of people who are out to hurt him. which is, according to his own calculations, at least a decent hand full of influential, powerful and dangerous men he stole various items and intel of immense worth from. and this city - he has not set foot in it ever. not once - this godforsaken city is home to now two people he doesn't want to see hurt. and like anyone stupid and lost in their own feelings would do, he foolishly laid a scent for the dogs to follow. and he knows he will regret that ... ( [ 22:20 ] HOLD ON be thre in sec!!! ) ... eventually

it stretches like a small eternity, though it is just minutes before the door opens. aaron leaning with his shoulder against the wall and a small paper bag in hand - nothing spectacular but a few treats for good measure. a flower that he stole because a whole bouquet felt tacky - and he's prepared to be met with an irritated pretty face. even an upset one. he's played it all out in his head, has imagined simeon shoving him, has imagined simeon tackling him to the ground to kiss him ( perhaps his favorite ), has imagined simeon not opening the door at all and, worst of all, has imagined someone else opening it instead, possibly punching aaron in the face in the process. but the doorway is empty and aaron pushes himself away from the door with a frown. one of those smart-home situations, everything functioning via app. the assumption he goes by when taking his first step until he hears him and his heart stumbles in his chest. STUBBORN AND DESPERATE and just that bit shaky - a voice he's heard over the phone when he talks himself into a fit about his encounter with luca ( aaron always prays he can not hear the smile that, without fail, appears on his face every single time ) ... before he can make sense of the words, simeon provides context himself and aaron, who, to his credit, never made any promises, can do absolutely nothing to stop the sincere, joyous laugh that escapes him almost instantly. short and quickly controlled but he sees a flicker in simeon's gaze.

if simeon reads it as mockery, he couldn't be further off. seeing the pop star like that - robe, hair band, face mask, the blush of his cheeks visible even through the thin sheet, sends a pang to aaron's heart that nearly makes him stumble backwards a bit. a look so utterly comfortable, gentle, vulnerable that the man struggles not to immediately crush him against his chest. but it's the goddamn thumb that will be his undoing. he knows he'll do it before he's even moved his arm and yet watching it feels akin to watching a car crash in slow motion - only said car is his very self restraint going up in flames. it's a fraction of a second before he has the boy pinned to his hallway wall. not rough, but not exactly too gentle either and it doesn't help his control that the robe he's wearing slips open just that little bit more at the sudden force. there's no more laughing but there's a grin on his face now that hides none of his obvious delight.

" HI - i'm not here for tea, simeon. you look so infuriatingly cute like that. " not even a hint of a joke in his voice. the only thing preventing him from kissing the man is the fact that he assumes the face mask is expensive. ten minutes are nothing compared to the weeks he spent buying and cancelling tickets to come and see him. ten minutes ... he can wait. but he isn't moving either. caging the smaller man with his body, looking down at him with a raw hunger that unnerves even him a bit. " is that silk? it's really pretty. it's short. " he had a speech prepared. of sorts, at least. about how he missed him and how he wanted to explore his city after simeon let him show him florence. about how he barely stopped thinking about the man ever since he left. he had a whole little speech ready, flower and everything, but the bag with the treats stands forgotten in the open door and he can not move away from the pop star, can not tear his gaze from the hairband that looks puffy and soft, can not stop his fingers from playing with the hem of the robe and he's forgotten all about his speech. his free hand grabs for simeon's wrist, pulls his hand towards his own mouth to kiss at his thumb just once, briefly. " sorry for the short notice - i was planning on telling you tonight and coming over tomorrow but i couldn't ... fuck, simeon, it's really short - " he only glances down briefly, can not linger or he'll forget all about those ten minutes. " i wanted to see you tonight. nice- uhm, god, really nice place. "