Late visitor

The door rattled insistently before swinging open and slamming against the jamb-- Andre didn’t mean to have a moment of weakness but he startled anyway, jumping in his ratty old chair and twisting to face the entryway door.

“Lew,” Andre breathed in greeting, perplexed and, somehow, eager at the sight of the man. He looked, for lack of a better word, hungry.

“Just got back from a late dinner,” Lew tried to speak nonchalant. But when his hand came up to pull down his hat and try to re-set his messy hair, his hand seemed to shake a little. That got Andre to grab at his chair and turn it toward Lewis, his posture going rigid.

“Sounds good.” He couldn’t keep casual for the life of himself. His heart was beating like mad after Lew had spooked him with the damn door; he wasn’t given a single warning that he’d have guests so late.
Lewis kept his eyes on Andre as he kicked the door closed behind him, going so far as to lock it haphazardly.

“I’ve-- Andre, I’ve been thinking,” Lewis started, hand groping along the hem of his hat until he just up and tossed the thing to the floor. He kept moving forward now that the door had been shut and locked. He didn’t have too far to cross before he would meet up with Andre in his chair, his expression growing more and more unsure. It was hard to feel stable with those intentful eyes on him.

Andre brought up his hands at lightning speed, palms-out in gestural defense. “Lew, I-- I don’t know if I wanna hear anything-- about anything. You understand? I’m on the level, and, and I know you ain’t. Even if you never said it.”

That didn’t keep Lewis from stopping. Eventually his polished shoes met between Andre’s feet, his sitting stance wide, keeping him balanced. They were awfully close. Energy shouldn’t have been tangible, but Andre felt compelled to keep still, now, like if he moved, somehow the sheer force of Lewis’ aura would snap his neck.
“Then I won’t say,” Lewis whispered. He didn’t speak any more. He decided to use his body as means of communication.

Those soft-looking hands slid their way along Andre’s shoulders, up to encircle around the back of his neck. The touch just about made the man melt then and there. He’d never been privy to this kind of feeling. Immediately his lap felt warm, and his stomach flipped. It was all so pleasant… And it was very confusing. Andre couldn’t take his eyes off of Lewis, who looked as mysterious as ever, only his honey-brown eyes trying to tell him something-- something passionate.

Lewis’ suit jacket made tons of noise, shifting, as he reached down, met eye-to-eye with Andre, and leaned in to kiss him. Their lips met softly, but there wasn’t any tentativeness behind it. All that shivering Lewis had done earlier-- Andre couldn’t feel it. As a boxer, he figured he would. He understood what made a body tick. But Lewis-- he just couldn’t understand. He was different than any single human on God’s green earth.
And just like that, Lewis deepened the kiss, and Andre couldn’t help himself then. It didn’t take a genius to know what to do, this kissing stuff, after he felt it once. Those lips, thin, soft, almost delicate-- fit perfectly against his own-- and urged him, as a man, to do what felt right, as if it was natural.
Andre allowed Lewis to cross this unspoken threshold, but with a deep exhale through his nose, he stood up, swift as all could be with that boxer’s movement, arms embracing along Lewis’ tiny waist, bringing him into a hold as he stood up. Their mouths bumped but stayed together, and Andre swore he heard Lewis moan, muffled against his own mouth.

Maybe he should’ve kept sitting. He felt woozy… But also jubilant, incredible, immortal. He didn’t want this moment to end.