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The low light of the TV cast a blue glow over your tired features as you relaxed deeper into the couch. Hector had long since abandoned what you two were watching, choosing instead to study you from his peripherals. Your eyes were beginning to droop as you fought desperately against the pull of sleep.
Hector swallowed thickly, his breath seemed to stick against the back of his throat like honey. When Hector had first sat down next to you, he had chosen to sit at the far end of the couch. You had scoffed and patted the space right next to you, so close that his thigh would have brushed against yours.
Hector slowly scooted over to you, focusing on the television rather than your face. He wasn't sure where to look, or what to do with his hands as he sat frozen beside you. He didn’t even allow himself to relax against the back of the couch. Instead, he sat with his back straight, posture exuding discomfort. Hector had never felt more out of his element, even when your knee bumped his as you tried to get him to relax.
The feel of your clothed knee against his almost sent him reeling. He could practically feel the burn of your skin on his, his contemptible body should be nowhere near yours, it wasn’t right.
You had coaxed him out of his ducts, seen him for who he was with no trace of rejection in your eyes. It almost seemed as if you might return his affections. He was realistic, though, he would just be grateful for your charitableness, your generosity in allowing him to be by your side.
He craved the ability to read your every thought, see into your beautiful mind and find out what he meant to you.
He wished so badly that you would yearn for him too, to feel like you were half of a person, incomplete until you held each other tight in your arms. He couldn’t be whole on his own, he needed you.
When you had asked him to watch a movie with you, for a moment, he allowed himself to hope that you desired him just as much.
Now, Hector felt crazed, he must have lost the rest of his sanity when your fingertips had brushed against his earlier. He could have sworn that the touch was intentional, could have sworn that he felt your fingers wrap around his arm, claw deep into his skin so you were anchored together.
Was it possible?
The evening sun fell across your sleeping face and he thought, maybe, just maybe, he was completely and totally in love with you. You were the soft voice in the back of his head telling him to leap off of the nearest cliff, and God, did he want to.
There had to be something there between you, otherwise what was the point of his heart racing, his palms sweating, his hands shaking? If you rejected him, he would never recover. He would slowly lose touch with you, his lifeline, slowly and involuntarily. You would replace him for sure, disgusted by him for crossing that boundary.
One day he would wake up and realize he had forgotten the sound of your voice, the way your smile lit up a room. He wouldn’t ever feel your fingers on his grates, never feel the ghost of your breath whisper his name. Hector distantly realized he was hyperventilating, his chest heaving and his eyes twitching with panic.
Your love. That was the only thing he needed from you, that he would ever need. His skin itched with the desire to be pressed against yours. He stared down at your hand, laying loosely by your side. Oh, how he longed to feel your warmth under his palm, just for the tiniest hint of your skin to touch his.
Hector unclenched his fist from his lap and slowly placed his hand next to yours. Your pinkies were inches apart and he yearned to bridge the gap that seemed cavernous between you. The longer he stared at your fingers, the more he could feel his mouth begin to water. He had to clench his jaw and resist the need to pull your hand to his lips and carve all of his desperation on your skin with his teeth.
What would you taste like? Heaven? Hell? Something dangerous, something pure? He balled his other hand into a fist and absently rubbed it against the side of his thigh. He had a growing amount of energy and nowhere to go with it. Would you be mad at him for touching your fingers without permission? Should he wake you and ask? No. What was he thinking?! You were so close, so tantalizingly close…
Hector’s hand moved the scant few inches left and placed it on top of yours. His fingers twitched as he fought inwardly, wondering if he should pull them back or not. He should retract his hand, release you before he burned you with his own inconsiderate devotion…but he couldn’t. His hand was permanently glued onto your leg, leaving a burning mark and sinking down to the bone.
Slowly, he leaned closer to you, drinking you in greedily. You were so close now, he could feel your breath lightly puff across his face. He could still smell the traces of vanilla from the ice cream you ate earlier, and the scent of something so uniquely yours. He wanted to bathe in your scent, to bottle it up and wear it as a cologne.
His eyes shifted to your barely parted lips and he hesitated, toeing the line between moving forward or an embarrassing retreat. He could kiss you right now, feather light, an angel's kiss.
But he was no angel. He wanted, he craved, he hungered, for you. Before he knew what he was doing, he realized his lips were ghosting over yours. Would his stubble scratch your cheek if he ran his lips over your skin? Should he have shaved beforehand? He rubbed along his jawline self consciously and wondered if he had a quick moment to-
He felt himself freeze when his eyes met yours. His heart stopped, his brain ceased all functioning.
“Were you going to kiss me?” You mumbled in that sleep heavy voice he loved so much. There was still time, Hector panicked internally, he could easily play it off and turn back to the movie. Was it even still playing? You would be fooled if he said there was an eyelash on your cheek right? Maybe he was reaching for the remote?
There was no way that you would fall for that shitty excuse!
But what was he supposed to say? That you have haunted his dreams, followed him in his memories and enamored him? How your name echoed in the darkest parts of his mind, brought to life again with the memory of your touch? You had become his obsession, one he would never tire of.
He wanted to kiss you once, just one time without the inevitable hatred polluting your lips. You’ll never want to kiss him after tonight.
“Hector?” You adjusted to sit up straight and he tried pulling away from you, needing to put distance between you both. But you didn’t let him get too far, stopping his retreat with a hand on his arm.
“I-I-you-I-” Words failed him, and that made him even more miserable. He always had honeyed words for you, always had poems and flirtations at the ready. That was only in his vents, out here, outside of his safety net, he had nothing to hide behind.
“If you won’t, then I’ll just have to take the lead.” You smiled bashfully and his mind went blank. When your lips met - his dry and chapped - yours smooth and velvety, it was everything he had ever dreamed of and more.
Sweet, addicting, full of life, that’s how he would describe your first kiss. It lasted only for a second or two before you pulled away. Hector’s head spun and his vision had become blurry. The room felt as if it were tilted on its axis, spinning him around.
“Hector?!” You placed your hands on his burning cheeks, they were soothing like a cold drink on a hot summer day. “Breathe! Come on!” Breathe? His eyes that had fallen shut snapped open and he gasped, inhaling a deep breath. His chest seared with pain and his body burned in shame at his inability to remember how to do something so simple as breathe in front of you.
“I’m sorry.” He gasped out and his shoulders slumped while he bowed his head. Hector had thought his first kiss with you would allow him to feel like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Instead, all he felt was embarrassment and humiliation.
Were you disgusted by him? Had he failed you one too many times? Did he use you, pry open your mouth and devour you of his own volition? He had violated you, that’s what he had done. “My love-” No, how could he call you that after his animalistic display? How could he let his base urges get the better of him like that? “I-I must apologize.” He stammered and nervously knit his fingers together in his lap.
“Hector,” You turned your body towards him and gently laid your hands over his fidgeting fingers. “ I kissed you, okay?”
“B-but I kissed you back.”
“Well, I’m not about to apologize.”
“You-” Hector furrowed his brow and his eyes darted around, trying to make sense of your words. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Neither do you.”
“But-”
One of your hands slid down to his knee that had been anxiously jumping up and down. The light heat of your palm soaked into his limbs, the feel of your fingers on any part of him was enough to get him going all over again. Hector barely managed to suppress the desire to pull your hand back into his and never let go.
“Will you let me kiss you again?” He would let you do anything you wanted to him and he would sing your praises at an altar finely crafted for you. He would worship and pray for your love and kindness.
You slowly grabbed his face in your hands, giving him more than enough time to stop you. You kissed his forehead, both of his cheeks, the very tip of his nose, his cheekbones, anywhere your lips could reach. Hector’s hands raised to your shoulders to ground himself, trying to ignore the way his fingers were digging into you.
There was no force in this world that could have taken him away from you. No god or devil, angel or demon, could climb from their respective worlds and drag him away. He would allow himself to be smited only after you were finished with him. At least he would have your kiss carved into his memories before he was burned to cinders and ash.
“I love you, Hector.” You breathed against his ear and he stared off in the distance dumbly. He understood those words, but to hear them in that order? It didn’t make sense. The words punched him right in the gut, almost making him physically double over. He felt like he was falling, plummeting to the ground with no parachute.
“No you don’t.” His knee jerk response made him want to crawl into a hole and bury himself alive, to stuff his mouth with dirt and suffocate himself so those words never left him again. You were never wrong, how could he say such a thing to you? Whatever spell you had been under was now clearly broken as he fell deeper into his hole of contempt.
“I really, really do.” Your smile held no malice towards him, everything about you seemed genuine, so why did his brain reject this moment in every way? Your gentle hands, your holy hands, guided his chin back up and you pressed a kiss to his lips once more. The blood rushed into his ears and he could feel his heartbeat racing. If he was damned already, what was one more indulgence?
Hector charged forward, destroying all of the barriers he had been struggling to place between you. His teeth knocked against yours, far too eager, but you didn’t seem to complain. You snatched his face with your hand in an attempt to slow him down, your thumb pressing painfully on his jawbone. The sting of your thumb sent electricity dancing down his spine and he squirmed in his seat, letting out a pitiful whine.
“Slow, my darling.” You whispered. Your hand loosened and trailed down his face before wrapping around the back of his head, clutching a few curls in your grip and tugging lightly.
He had to devour you, there was no other option, he needed to take you apart, watch you melt and fall to pieces. The kiss was desperate, and Hector tried his hardest to slow down as you requested. You deserved to be treated with gentle hands, he should be careful and tender.
You groaned into the kiss, the sound nearly making Hector’s bones shake and rumble. He spoke a quick apology in his head, begging for absolution as he held you tighter. The kiss turned messier, he was nothing but a starved man, and you were a five course meal presented to him at the brink of depravity. He tore himself away hastily, trying to reign his desperation in for you. You stared up at him through heavy lidded eyes, your cheeks rosy and flushed. He ran a finger across your cheek and you shivered at the feel of him.
“You’re the most beautiful thing this world has ever created.” He whispered reverently and your breath hitched in response. As his eyes roamed over your body, he felt himself fall for you all over again.
“Hector…” You flushed an even deeper crimson, and let out a breathy moan. “What have I done to ever deserve someone like you?” Hector huffed out a disbelieving laugh in response.
“You deserve someone a hundred times better than me, my love.” He tried to go for a joking tone, but he missed it by a mile. He had planned to joke, to deflect from the dangerous and frenzied word vomit that was clawing its way up his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him and tugged him back in by his shirt collar for another kiss. When you pulled away from him, you didn’t go far as your eyes locked with his.
“You are more beautiful than the sun, the moon, and the stars all combined.” Your stare held him in place, he was rooted to the spot in shock. “You are my entire universe, and I will remind you of that as often as you need to hear it.” Your voice held such an earnest promise that he suddenly choked out a sob, then a laugh. He buried his face in your neck to hide his shameful tears. You threaded your hands through his silky curls and shushed him, trying to soothe his cries. Salt stained his lips as his tears ran down his face, his heart so full of love for you that he was scared it would burst.
“I love you, Hector.” You whispered into his hair as he clung tightly to you. “I love you.” You re-positioned his body and guided him down onto the couch. He went willingly, a tree effortlessly blowing in the breeze. You caged him in with your body, no, not caged…you were sheltering him. He felt safe as he was bathed in your welcoming shadow.
You pressed your forehead to his and he exhaled a breath he had seemingly held onto for years, a breath he thought he’d never release. You swallowed it up without a moments hesitation, as if you were anticipating it. This time when he kissed you, it was slower, more intentional. It was softer, more gentle than he thought himself capable of at the moment. You were made for him, this was proof in and of itself.
Hector wasn’t sure how long you traded lazy kisses with him, but it was long enough to become familiar with your lips, to sink into your skin and feel like he was finally coming home.