[ In one hand is his flask, from which he pulls liberally one more time, savoring the sensation of liquor and smoke together in his mouth. The other rests firmly on Dorian's shoulder, feeling the professionally-cleaned cashmere as if it's his last chance. ]
I can take it. Not letting you do this alone. Not even you deserve that, mate.
[ In one final hurrah that sounds so much like "fuck it", John pivots Dorian back around and leans into him. For a horrible moment, it seems they might repeat their mistaken, aborted romance attempts from Christmas Eve. Until John tilts the other man's face downward, his kiss instead landing dryly and prudently on his forehead, pressing into his soft hairline. ]
no subject
I can take it. Not letting you do this alone. Not even you deserve that, mate.
[ In one final hurrah that sounds so much like "fuck it", John pivots Dorian back around and leans into him. For a horrible moment, it seems they might repeat their mistaken, aborted romance attempts from Christmas Eve. Until John tilts the other man's face downward, his kiss instead landing dryly and prudently on his forehead, pressing into his soft hairline. ]
Showtime, then?