Yesterday, 01:04 AM
Despite the pain that Kristian seemed to be experiencing, his body language was otherwise full of ease and charming confidence. His comment was issued light and teasing, and Jensen felt a slow warmth rise to his face, not from offense, but from that familiar ripple of discomfort that came whenever someone stepped too close to a part of himself he preferred left quiet. If there was awkwardness here, he was certain it lay with him, not the other man. Kristian was clearly comfortable in his own skin, and if Jensen ever once was, well… he wasn’t sure he’d ever be that man again.
The temptation was to laugh it off, to deflect, but instead he let the moment pass without comment. Tonight wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about untangling his own knots or dwelling on Jessika’s face. The unexpected collision at the ball with a past he’d thought half a world away. Those things could wait. Tonight was about the one thing he knew was right. The thing that felt like it had been stitched into him before birth, the thing that made all the noise of the world fade to nothing.
He didn’t take Kristian's hand. Nor did he settle for the safe, neutral press of palm to shoulder. Instead, he leaned in slightly and rested his hand against the man’s cheek. His fingertips met warm skin, the faint rasp of stubble, the underlying tension in the jaw. The placement wasn’t born of intimacy. It was precision, an instinct to put the Gift exactly where it was needed most.
The moment the power moved, the world changed. Breath, sight, heartbeat. Everything slowed, deepened. His pulse fell into a meditative rhythm, steady and certain. Details rose to meet him: the flecks of color in Kristian's eyes, the way lamplight played along the line of his face, the texture of skin warmed by living heat.
And the Gift filled him. Not as something apart, but as something that was him. It flowed without effort, without hesitation, until there was no division between will and action. To be in that moment was to be entirely himself without doubt and faltering.
For Kristian, the sensation would be like a tide of warmth pulling the ache away, settling the pain until it slipped into nothingness. For Jensen, it was absolute clarity. He kept his palm there a moment longer than strictly necessary, letting that rightness linger. Because here, doing this, he was exactly what he was meant to be, and it was hard to part with the moment.
The temptation was to laugh it off, to deflect, but instead he let the moment pass without comment. Tonight wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about untangling his own knots or dwelling on Jessika’s face. The unexpected collision at the ball with a past he’d thought half a world away. Those things could wait. Tonight was about the one thing he knew was right. The thing that felt like it had been stitched into him before birth, the thing that made all the noise of the world fade to nothing.
He didn’t take Kristian's hand. Nor did he settle for the safe, neutral press of palm to shoulder. Instead, he leaned in slightly and rested his hand against the man’s cheek. His fingertips met warm skin, the faint rasp of stubble, the underlying tension in the jaw. The placement wasn’t born of intimacy. It was precision, an instinct to put the Gift exactly where it was needed most.
The moment the power moved, the world changed. Breath, sight, heartbeat. Everything slowed, deepened. His pulse fell into a meditative rhythm, steady and certain. Details rose to meet him: the flecks of color in Kristian's eyes, the way lamplight played along the line of his face, the texture of skin warmed by living heat.
And the Gift filled him. Not as something apart, but as something that was him. It flowed without effort, without hesitation, until there was no division between will and action. To be in that moment was to be entirely himself without doubt and faltering.
For Kristian, the sensation would be like a tide of warmth pulling the ache away, settling the pain until it slipped into nothingness. For Jensen, it was absolute clarity. He kept his palm there a moment longer than strictly necessary, letting that rightness linger. Because here, doing this, he was exactly what he was meant to be, and it was hard to part with the moment.