He had thought about this before, in all the ways he could have, in all the ways he shouldn't. He'd let his mind dance past the line held them steady as roommates, and the even more delicate one that kept them as friends, and wonder what it might feel like if they were a little something more. At his core, Iris is a creature of greed, someone who had never been very good at being told "no," even when the person doing the telling is Iris himself.
The thing is β he could have kissed Wilhelm a dozen times before. There were moments for it, more than half of them even felt secure enough that he was almost certain they'd be reciprocated, but each and every time he held himself back because he thought, this time, he won't dare to ask for more. In Thorne he has begun to craft for himself a new home, but it's in Wilhelm he's found a space he can truly feel safe in, and even someone as impulsive and reckless as Iris knows better than to try his luck in an area where luck has very repeatedly proven to him he hasn't any.
He was supposed to be content with just friendship, because even just friendship felt too good to be true. And he was β is β content with it. If Wilhelm pulled back now and wanted to laugh or never talk about it again, Iris would follow along without hesitation, if all that meant he could keep the other boy just for a little while longer. He readies himself for it, prepares to do what it takes to make sure he doesn't lose the one last good thing in his life.
But Wilhelm doesn't pull back. Wilhelm kisses him like he's been thinking about it too, that first press of lips more relief than want, and Iris feels a little like he's flying, soaring instead of suspended, because now his mind finds itself running wild with all the possibilities he'd been tol afraid to chase down even when he'd let himself imagine their first kiss. That's the thing β every time he's ever imagined it, it had always just been a first kiss. Suddenly, stretching out before him, unfolds the possibility of a second, and a third, and god maybe even a fourth. And Iris has never felt so frozen by possibility beforeβ
Until Wilhelm cradles his face like he's something delicate β no, precious, and Iris finds the only proper response to any of this is seeing where else it could possibly take him. Something that might have started soft and tentative and maybe even a little shy surges now with the intensity of all the first kisses ever imagined; Iris's arms are there, slipping around Wilhelm's neck. Iris's legs follow soon after, drawing him closer through the magma so that he can seat himself more comfortably astride Wilhelm's thighs. There is the distinct awareness of where they are, and all the clothes they're lacking, but that awareness is off to the side somewhere, unbothered, before Iris now knows exactly how Wilhelm tastes, and he is already most inconveniently addicted.
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The thing is β he could have kissed Wilhelm a dozen times before. There were moments for it, more than half of them even felt secure enough that he was almost certain they'd be reciprocated, but each and every time he held himself back because he thought, this time, he won't dare to ask for more. In Thorne he has begun to craft for himself a new home, but it's in Wilhelm he's found a space he can truly feel safe in, and even someone as impulsive and reckless as Iris knows better than to try his luck in an area where luck has very repeatedly proven to him he hasn't any.
He was supposed to be content with just friendship, because even just friendship felt too good to be true. And he was β is β content with it. If Wilhelm pulled back now and wanted to laugh or never talk about it again, Iris would follow along without hesitation, if all that meant he could keep the other boy just for a little while longer. He readies himself for it, prepares to do what it takes to make sure he doesn't lose the one last good thing in his life.
But Wilhelm doesn't pull back. Wilhelm kisses him like he's been thinking about it too, that first press of lips more relief than want, and Iris feels a little like he's flying, soaring instead of suspended, because now his mind finds itself running wild with all the possibilities he'd been tol afraid to chase down even when he'd let himself imagine their first kiss. That's the thing β every time he's ever imagined it, it had always just been a first kiss. Suddenly, stretching out before him, unfolds the possibility of a second, and a third, and god maybe even a fourth. And Iris has never felt so frozen by possibility beforeβ
Until Wilhelm cradles his face like he's something delicate β no, precious, and Iris finds the only proper response to any of this is seeing where else it could possibly take him. Something that might have started soft and tentative and maybe even a little shy surges now with the intensity of all the first kisses ever imagined; Iris's arms are there, slipping around Wilhelm's neck. Iris's legs follow soon after, drawing him closer through the magma so that he can seat himself more comfortably astride Wilhelm's thighs. There is the distinct awareness of where they are, and all the clothes they're lacking, but that awareness is off to the side somewhere, unbothered, before Iris now knows exactly how Wilhelm tastes, and he is already most inconveniently addicted.