Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

15: Kiss Secret Guilt

Thomas Thorne had kissed his fair share of people throughout his life. - perhaps slightly more than his fair share even - but it had never felt like this. This kiss – Vincent's kiss – burned. His lips, his hands, his waist, his hair... everywhere he and Vincent were in contact was aflame. Desire coiled low in his belly, his heart thumped rapidly in his chest, and he thought of nothing but Vincent.

When Thomas reluctantly pulled back to drag air into his lungs, Vincent teetered after him. Thomas' hand still rested across his cheek, his thumb settled just below a wide, confused eye. His breaths were as rapid as Thomas', and his lips – flushed from their kiss – were parted as he struggled for words.

He was adorable.

Thomas should have kissed him sooner.

He couldn't prevent the sudden laughter that burst from his chest.

Almost instantly, Vincent frowned. The past few minutes were a blur in his mind, but the laugh seemed to ground him to the present. Thomas was laughing. Why was Thomas laughing? Was Thomas laughing at him? His breath quickened slightly as he began to worry.

Quickly, he assessed Thomas' face. He was smiling – grinning even – and the expression travelled all the way to his eyes, even if they seemed a bit glazed. The man's black curls were in complete disarray, fluffy and combed back on one side as if fingers had... Vincent blinked once. Slowly. Had he done that?

"Use your words, Vincent."

Even though he spoke quietly, the proximity still shocked Vincent. They had parted, barely, and remained only a handspan apart. The hand that rested on his face moved, drifted up to his forehead where Thomas' thumb gently swiped across his furrowed brow.

"I can see you thinking."

Vincent was not entirely sure he was successfully thinking at all! The man was... overwhelming. He needed distance.

The thought triggered action and Vincent stepped backwards as he cleared his throat. They were no longer in contact, but he could still feel Thomas' eyes. He stepped again, this time turning away. Then he began to pace. The nursery was by no means the largest room in the house, but the distance from the window to what was assumedly a trunk of toys was exactly seven paces, and that was sufficient for Vincent's needs. He counted as he went.

Seven, fourteen, twenty-one...

Despite the vigorous movement, he felt his heartrate slow, the pounding in his chest reducing to a light flutter.

Twenty-eight, thirty-five, forty-two...

Now he could think, reflect on the past few minutes. Thomas had asked to kiss him. He had agreed. They had – there was a brief hitch in his step – kissed, and then Thomas had laughed. He didn't understand. Any of it.

Forty-nine, fifty-six, sixty-three...

He stopped, and turned abruptly back to Thomas. He was surprised to find him sitting easily on the settee, one leg crossed over the other and a soft smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

Vincent's frown deepened. "The... Why..." he swallowed, his gaze flicking to the door. It was still early, but some in the household would be awake. As he spoke, he moved closer and pitched his voice low. "You kissed me and-"

Thomas interrupted with a tilt of his head. "You kissed me back."

The man was not wrong, and it brought a flush back to Vincent's cheeks. If he'd ever worried about not 'knowing' how to kiss, he needn't have. The moment Thomas' lips touched his he'd understood instinctively what to do, how to move, and when to part his lips... He blushed deeper at the memory and moved on.