[Kimblee doesn't try to stop Isaac, nor does he try to pull away, but it's obvious that he's startled by the way he's suddenly freezing up again; he knows he should be keeping his distance from this entire experience, that there's nothing about this that can end well, but right now all he can focus on is the way his eyes are sliding closed and he's relaxing enough to return that kiss and he's doing so eagerly, and he can feel his body shaking a bit and the pressure of Isaac's hands against his back, and he's struck again by exactly how much he's missed this.
He's been asked before, whether or not he loves Isaac; the truth remains that he doesn't, not really. He understands love perfectly well in theory - it's just another thing that humans do, something for him to take apart and analyze and see how it works, and he recognizes the behaviors that imply it just as well as anyone else -
(you let me have something even though I can tell you still want it. you spend long hours talking to me without seeming bored. you touch me often; you allow me to return the favor. you give me things that I never asked you for, not because you thought you had to but because you thought I would like it. you do these things either because you love me or because you're trying to manipulate me, and you're too genuine to manipulate anyone, much less me)
...but even if he can recognize and copy those actions well enough to pass for a little while, love has always been one of those things that he can't fake convincingly. There was always something about it, something that led to arguments and hideous breakups eventually, something that he'd never known how to fix; it had annoyed him more than it had upset him, because if there was really something that wrong, then he should have been told as soon as it became noticeable - he could have at least fixed the behavior if he'd known.
He'd made the mistake of saying that once, when he'd been young and stupid and hadn't enlisted in the military yet, and he'd been slapped for his effort; he's matured since then, certainly, he's no longer quite as spoiled and he isn't buying his relationships with his parents' money anymore, but he still remembers that incident rather well. It still annoys him more than it upsets him.
But when it comes to Isaac, in some ways it matters less if he loves him or not - Isaac's made it very plain that whatever he's offering is unconditional, and Kimblee supposes he can appreciate that much, even if he finds it stupid. And really, if people were to just look at it logically and scientifically, it would probably look like he loves him - the increased heart rate and various chemicals flooding his system, the sudden physical impulsiveness, the sense of desire that came with all of it would likely look like love if such a thing could be measured. But he understands that love should probably feel like something, that it shouldn't be a series of actions that he has to think about to convincingly give the illusion that he cares more than he does, it shouldn't come with the caveat that he'll let this whole thing burn if his commanding officer tells him to.
He's come to understand that whatever it is that his previous partners always eventually felt the absence of, whatever caused the distance and the fights and the hideous breakups, is probably love. He can't know for sure, but it's his best guess.
So he certainly can't truthfully say that he loves him; at the same time, for the time being he's perfectly content to let this be a purely physical reaction, to pull Isaac a bit closer against him and to twist his hand more tightly into his hair and tug back a bit more firmly now (but not enough to break that kiss, which he'll admit feels lovely), and he grinds up against Isaac hard, in a way that's likely going to embarrass him horribly later.
For the time being, however, he can't bring himself to care.]
no subject
He's been asked before, whether or not he loves Isaac; the truth remains that he doesn't, not really. He understands love perfectly well in theory - it's just another thing that humans do, something for him to take apart and analyze and see how it works, and he recognizes the behaviors that imply it just as well as anyone else -
(you let me have something even though I can tell you still want it. you spend long hours talking to me without seeming bored. you touch me often; you allow me to return the favor. you give me things that I never asked you for, not because you thought you had to but because you thought I would like it. you do these things either because you love me or because you're trying to manipulate me, and you're too genuine to manipulate anyone, much less me)
...but even if he can recognize and copy those actions well enough to pass for a little while, love has always been one of those things that he can't fake convincingly. There was always something about it, something that led to arguments and hideous breakups eventually, something that he'd never known how to fix; it had annoyed him more than it had upset him, because if there was really something that wrong, then he should have been told as soon as it became noticeable - he could have at least fixed the behavior if he'd known.
He'd made the mistake of saying that once, when he'd been young and stupid and hadn't enlisted in the military yet, and he'd been slapped for his effort; he's matured since then, certainly, he's no longer quite as spoiled and he isn't buying his relationships with his parents' money anymore, but he still remembers that incident rather well. It still annoys him more than it upsets him.
But when it comes to Isaac, in some ways it matters less if he loves him or not - Isaac's made it very plain that whatever he's offering is unconditional, and Kimblee supposes he can appreciate that much, even if he finds it stupid. And really, if people were to just look at it logically and scientifically, it would probably look like he loves him - the increased heart rate and various chemicals flooding his system, the sudden physical impulsiveness, the sense of desire that came with all of it would likely look like love if such a thing could be measured. But he understands that love should probably feel like something, that it shouldn't be a series of actions that he has to think about to convincingly give the illusion that he cares more than he does, it shouldn't come with the caveat that he'll let this whole thing burn if his commanding officer tells him to.
He's come to understand that whatever it is that his previous partners always eventually felt the absence of, whatever caused the distance and the fights and the hideous breakups, is probably love. He can't know for sure, but it's his best guess.
So he certainly can't truthfully say that he loves him; at the same time, for the time being he's perfectly content to let this be a purely physical reaction, to pull Isaac a bit closer against him and to twist his hand more tightly into his hair and tug back a bit more firmly now (but not enough to break that kiss, which he'll admit feels lovely), and he grinds up against Isaac hard, in a way that's likely going to embarrass him horribly later.
For the time being, however, he can't bring himself to care.]