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Kissing Donghyuck is both comforting and exhilarating, something familiar and unfathomable and exciting all at once, both a trip somewhere beautiful you’ve never been and the feeling of coming home to your bed at the end. It’s never boring with Donghyuck, Mark always says, despite knowing Donghyuck better than he knows himself, despite having the curves of his lips and the taste of his tongue committed to memory as if it’s the most important thing in the world (it is).
A lot of their kisses are quick pecks, small connections in the midst of busy schedules, passing moments of assurance and affection, small tastes of acknowledged sentiments, promises of more. They’re hellos and goodbyes, they’re see you later, you got this, they’re I love you and I know, I know.
Kissing Donghyuck can be like fire, a burning heat in Mark’s stomach and chest, a pressuring flame on the verge of taking over, of engulfing him entirely. It’s hands slipping up under shirts, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of each other’s hips and waists, hot exhales and gentle bites. It’s Donghyuck’s head falling back as Mark presses an open mouth up and down his neck, the warm blood pulsing hard just beneath the skin, just beneath his lips. It’s Mark pinning Donghyuck underneath him, no space between them, only contact, only heat.
Sometimes kissing Donghyuck is a laugh, a tease, a touch of lips through smiles, Mark threatening to shut up that loud mouth of yours and then doing just that with a solid press of his own. Sometimes it’s fervid conversations inches from each other, a lifted eyebrow, a suggestive phrase; it’s playful pecks and mock fights, working each other up into heated exchanges of words and tongues.
Mark likes to kiss Donghyuck like it’s an exploration, eyes open and soft, meeting Donghyuck’s, exposed and intimate. It's peppering kisses all over his face, it's a grip on Donghyuck’s chin as Mark’s tongue darts out and licks up Donghyuck’s parted lips, playful and sweet and oh so gentle. It’s kissing all of him, tasting all of him, loving all of him.
It’s in the quiet of night, when there’s nothing but each other and time, where kissing Donghyuck is like a slow caress, languid movement, lips moving tenderly across lips, jaw, neck, warm skin. It’s limbs tangled together and hands intertwined, mouths warm with quiet whispers and bared hearts. These kisses stir up a warmth deep in Mark’s chest, as familiar and exciting as the one who causes it. From that warmth in his heart a thrill spreads out through his veins, and Mark kisses Donghyuck like he’s the most important thing in his world (he is).