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"Wouldn't you touch me, Melchi?" Moritz pleaded, the words barely more than a breath when they escaped his lips. He didn't quite know what he wanted, only that he needed someone to touch, to know...
There was something unsettling in Melchior's eyes. But he moved close, his hands laid softly on Moritz's shoulders. In gentle strokes they glided down his arms. How good it felt! Moritz felt a bewildering desire to melt into the touch, to disintegrate. He closed his eyes, didn't want to see, only feel. Melchior continued. His hands now stroked Moritz's chest and seemed to caress the heart beating below his ribs, suddenly so hard and loud Moritz feared Melchi would hear it.
He was becoming aware of the sinful beat of his blood and knew he should tear himself away. But it was so good to be close, to be touched so sweetly. Shivers of pleasure ran through him. He leaned back, could scarcely breathe, arched his neck back in the irresistible loveliness of the feel of Melchior's hands. They travelled down his chest and onto his stomach. Melchi was leaning against his back, his breath suddenly quick and hot on Moritz's neck. Moritz imagined what it would be like if those lips touched his neck or his mouth, if those hands would travel even further downwards...
That thought, together with Melchi's hands pressing low on his stomach, introduced such a frightening stab of pleasure that he jerked away, pulling himself free.
"No!" he muttered, edging away. Melchi must not be made a part of his sinful desires.
"Moritz," Melchior said, sounding confused, perhaps. "It's perfectly normal to..."
Moritz felt that if Melchior had to convince him it was perfectly normal, it had to be very wrong indeed. In any case he felt perfectly abnormal with those sensations taking control of him and making him think things he wasn't used to thinking.
"I must go," he said, not letting Melchi finish, not even daring to look at him again. He grabbed his bag and ran out of the room.
"Moritz!" Melchior called out after him. "Moritz, come back! Please, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable!"
But he didn't stop, he couldn't explain it all to Melchi, couldn't look at his friend now without those desires coming back, he had to get away.
He made it outside, slowed down only there, the confusing heat still throbbing in his body. Only when he was sure Melchi wouldn't be able to see him did he stop and allow his eyes to seek out Melchi's window. Melchior was standing there, looking out, but not seeing him. Moritz knew he had to go away, now before it was too late, but he fervently wished he could have stayed.