It started as awkward and only got worse as they recovered, Roman from the orgasm and Peter from how caught up he’d gotten in the whole thing. Roman didn’t expect him to pull away so fast, especially not quite like this.
It came out that the reason was that Peter knew, knew why they left, why anyone who got with Roman was doomed here. That it was Roman’s fault, that he got bored, orchestrated them being let go or simply pushed them to resign their contracts.
It wasn’t true, but hearing it was such a shock that Roman didn’t have time to set the record straight before Peter left. He just stood there, in slack jawed shock as he watched Peter pull his clothes back on, run his fingers through his hair and leave. What could he say?
He could have explained. After, he knew that he could have, should have, but he hadn’t expected that kind of rejection, hadn’t expected Peter to pull away again after it seemed that they’d finally bridged the distance between them.
He let him go.
He’d needed time, time to think, time to figure out just what to say and if Peter would even give him the time to say it. Things were awkward, and the dancing was stiff, almost forced. It wasn’t the same kind of awkward that made dancing the scenes with Odile work. That had been so heavy with sexual tension, while this was uncomfortable, hurt feelings and confusion. Any time their bodies came too close, any time it approached anything like intimacy, Peter pulled away, or pushed at him, at hands that might try to linger.
This had to stop. He had to tell him, but each day that passed made it that much harder to tell him the truth. To confront him and end this. He was afraid that, like when they danced, Peter wouldn’t hear him out, that he’d push him away and turn cold. He’d rehearsed what he’d say to him a hundred times in his head, and was waiting for a moment when Peter would listen, when he wouldn’t pull away.
Maybe the Christmas party hadn’t been the best time, but seeing him in that dress had made it impossible to stay away. Knowing Peter wanted him to was like a knife twisting in his side. He’d waited until Peter was alone and came over and stammered through his explanation, telling him how it wasn’t anything he actively did that made them leave, but that it was their choice, their reaction to Roman on a visceral level, repulsed by his proclivities once they’d seen… and Peter had seen and hadn’t pulled away. Peter, as far as Roman knew, only stayed away because he thought that Roman would grow bored of him, because he misunderstood the truth, only seeing the rumor.
Peter doesn’t say much after his explanation, but there’s something different. He hears him, and it registers, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet. So Roman leaves it there, gives him time, even though it’s the hardest thing to do because all he wants is to stay, to finally, finally come close again.
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It started as awkward and only got worse as they recovered, Roman from the orgasm and Peter from how caught up he’d gotten in the whole thing. Roman didn’t expect him to pull away so fast, especially not quite like this.
It came out that the reason was that Peter knew, knew why they left, why anyone who got with Roman was doomed here. That it was Roman’s fault, that he got bored, orchestrated them being let go or simply pushed them to resign their contracts.
It wasn’t true, but hearing it was such a shock that Roman didn’t have time to set the record straight before Peter left. He just stood there, in slack jawed shock as he watched Peter pull his clothes back on, run his fingers through his hair and leave. What could he say?
He could have explained. After, he knew that he could have, should have, but he hadn’t expected that kind of rejection, hadn’t expected Peter to pull away again after it seemed that they’d finally bridged the distance between them.
He let him go.
He’d needed time, time to think, time to figure out just what to say and if Peter would even give him the time to say it. Things were awkward, and the dancing was stiff, almost forced. It wasn’t the same kind of awkward that made dancing the scenes with Odile work. That had been so heavy with sexual tension, while this was uncomfortable, hurt feelings and confusion. Any time their bodies came too close, any time it approached anything like intimacy, Peter pulled away, or pushed at him, at hands that might try to linger.
This had to stop. He had to tell him, but each day that passed made it that much harder to tell him the truth. To confront him and end this. He was afraid that, like when they danced, Peter wouldn’t hear him out, that he’d push him away and turn cold. He’d rehearsed what he’d say to him a hundred times in his head, and was waiting for a moment when Peter would listen, when he wouldn’t pull away.
Maybe the Christmas party hadn’t been the best time, but seeing him in that dress had made it impossible to stay away. Knowing Peter wanted him to was like a knife twisting in his side. He’d waited until Peter was alone and came over and stammered through his explanation, telling him how it wasn’t anything he actively did that made them leave, but that it was their choice, their reaction to Roman on a visceral level, repulsed by his proclivities once they’d seen… and Peter had seen and hadn’t pulled away. Peter, as far as Roman knew, only stayed away because he thought that Roman would grow bored of him, because he misunderstood the truth, only seeing the rumor.
Peter doesn’t say much after his explanation, but there’s something different. He hears him, and it registers, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet. So Roman leaves it there, gives him time, even though it’s the hardest thing to do because all he wants is to stay, to finally, finally come close again.