[It is maybe the most intense thing Jamie's ever had happen to him, to go from nothing but his own thoughts to suddenly having every one of Max's feelings flooding through him. He'd swear he can feel it in every inch of him, head to toe. Like he's being invaded -- even as it feels like he's the one doing the invading, shining a light on every one of Max's emotions and leaving him no room to hide. For the first few moments he can't even tell the difference, where his own love and desire and admiration ends and where Max's begins, whose eagerness it is to have this tie between them. Does it even matter anymore? Everything Jamie is belongs to Max already, has since the first time Max kissed him, if not before then. Everything Max is, is part of him now.
It's overwhelming, but Jamie's still not scared in the slightest. He could get addicted to this rush of emotion, this complete openness. Wishes he could reach out and show Max a mirror into his own mind, just to truly, completely melt them together.
He's not sure when his eyes have drifted closed, too busy sorting through what's happening in his own head to pay attention. The only outside stimuli that gets through is Max's hand against his skin, Max's voice when he speaks. It doesn't matter. He doesn't have to see that little tremor of fear; he can feel it in his own chest.
Jamie doesn't bother to open his eyes, not immediately, and he doesn't have the words to explain exactly how it feels. He reaches out, instead, hands finding Max as instinctively as a compass finds north, tugging him in close so Jamie can kiss him instead, try to pour all the love and all the desire he's feeling into it, desperate to try to show him the only way he knows.]
I love you. [It's breathless, awed, murmured almost still against Max's mouth.] I love you, I love you -- thank you.
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Date: 2024-12-14 07:14 pm (UTC)It's overwhelming, but Jamie's still not scared in the slightest. He could get addicted to this rush of emotion, this complete openness. Wishes he could reach out and show Max a mirror into his own mind, just to truly, completely melt them together.
He's not sure when his eyes have drifted closed, too busy sorting through what's happening in his own head to pay attention. The only outside stimuli that gets through is Max's hand against his skin, Max's voice when he speaks. It doesn't matter. He doesn't have to see that little tremor of fear; he can feel it in his own chest.
Jamie doesn't bother to open his eyes, not immediately, and he doesn't have the words to explain exactly how it feels. He reaches out, instead, hands finding Max as instinctively as a compass finds north, tugging him in close so Jamie can kiss him instead, try to pour all the love and all the desire he's feeling into it, desperate to try to show him the only way he knows.]
I love you. [It's breathless, awed, murmured almost still against Max's mouth.] I love you, I love you -- thank you.