[ years, he thinks. years, since he last was in this position, talking himself through the act of simply breathing. years, since he's been that out of control of his own reaction, of his own physical response. god, it's embarrassing, yes, but it's also terrifying. to think that even with all he's done and processed and been through, it can still sneak up on him like this.
though this isn't really sneaking, is it? he'd seen the building blocks piling, had watched the water level rising over the weeks. he should have known, should have done anything else, but he'd let it build and build. part of him wonders if that's part of the reason he'd reacted as intensely as he had with geralt, if the fact sam's been on edge is the reason why it'd felt so overwhelming...
he focuses on jaskier's voice. on the sound of his breathing and the weight of his arms. it's a few more moments, or maybe minutes, before he feels like he actually has a handle on anything at all, and he spends it with his eyes closed and his forehead on the other, not thinking about everything. just focuses - on jaskier, on this, on the breath coming in and out of their lungs. he squeezes jaskier's hand and jaskier shifts his fingers back, letting their hands lock, and sam takes it. focuses on that, on their breathing, for just a few moments more.
( he can't be gone - sam clings to that too. )
it's alright jaskier says, his voice level, soothing. sam ends up laughing, though the laugh turns into a small coughing fit before long, finally pulling himself off of where he'd been all but dead weight against jaskier and running his free hand over his face. he's got a headache, now, his body matching the ache like he'd been in some kind of fight. ] Fuck. [ it's still said with a kind of laugh, breathy and thin. maybe not embarrassed, but kind of disappointed - in himself, more than anything. ] I'm...so sorry about that. I did not realize I was that bad.
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though this isn't really sneaking, is it? he'd seen the building blocks piling, had watched the water level rising over the weeks. he should have known, should have done anything else, but he'd let it build and build. part of him wonders if that's part of the reason he'd reacted as intensely as he had with geralt, if the fact sam's been on edge is the reason why it'd felt so overwhelming...
he focuses on jaskier's voice. on the sound of his breathing and the weight of his arms. it's a few more moments, or maybe minutes, before he feels like he actually has a handle on anything at all, and he spends it with his eyes closed and his forehead on the other, not thinking about everything. just focuses - on jaskier, on this, on the breath coming in and out of their lungs. he squeezes jaskier's hand and jaskier shifts his fingers back, letting their hands lock, and sam takes it. focuses on that, on their breathing, for just a few moments more.
( he can't be gone - sam clings to that too. )
it's alright jaskier says, his voice level, soothing. sam ends up laughing, though the laugh turns into a small coughing fit before long, finally pulling himself off of where he'd been all but dead weight against jaskier and running his free hand over his face. he's got a headache, now, his body matching the ache like he'd been in some kind of fight. ] Fuck. [ it's still said with a kind of laugh, breathy and thin. maybe not embarrassed, but kind of disappointed - in himself, more than anything. ] I'm...so sorry about that. I did not realize I was that bad.