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"Do you normally smoke?"
Even though the tone was none accusatory, Enigma still felt himself tense for the judgement to follow the question. It was obvious that by the lit stick between his fingers and smoked exhale what he was doing. Or whether it was 'normal', if not a rare occurrence despite the obvious experience.
Pocket was glancing from his lips to the cigarette with an inquisitive hum, something gentle and prompting in the way he approached to stand beside him on the balcony. Enigma sighs.
"Old habit." He says, and having gone without a lecture on 'what's best for him' he inhales slowly. The light makes a crinkling sound, embers illuminating his fingers where he cups the smoke, mindful of his company. Pocket watches with rapt attention, almost as if...
"Do you smoke?" Enigma feels the need to ask, pinching the cigarette between his teeth while his hands occupy themselves with a worn lighter. It's silver surface is scratched and dull, unable to reflect its surroundings like it did in his youth.
The baseball star laughs, surprised by the question or maybe amused that Enigma had to ask at all. "What do you think?" Pocket teases, grinning at him preciously. Enigma scoffs, face reddening with shame.
He wanted to...
His fingers flex, contemplative where he retrieves the cigarette to speak properly. "You do?" And his tone is guiltily hopeful.
Unfortunately for him Pocket shakes his head, smile sheepish. "Nah, was always nervous 'bout it. Especially being caught on camera. Athlete lungs, y'know?" Pocket says, tone somber. Enigma frowns at him, "Yeah..."
They teeter into a silence, unspoken tension in the air as Enigma bellows smoke to the night. Any other day he might have felt a sardonic pleasure for contaminating the world. Man made pollution, much like he was. It was so funny, that toxicity swimming inside his chest as poison claimed home to smoke filled lungs.
It's what encourages his next actions.
"Want to try something?" Enigma encourages, not really a question to the excited and curious gleam in Pocket's eyes. Enigma wanted to ruin that expression, the kind and trusting smiles he didn't deserve.
"What'd you have in mind?" Pocket breathes, abnormally close to Enigma and his body warms at the simple contact of their shoulders. Despite the slight height difference, Pocket was always slouched or leant forward. Always attentive toward whomever he interacted with. It made Enigma's chest tighten in a possessive coil for the man and his heart.
Enigma tongues the inside of his mouth, tasting the tobacco and bubblegum he occupied himself with earlier. Still trying to cope without the means to kill himself in a neat pack inside his pocket. He tries to distract himself briefly by inhaling more smoke before he responds.
"Ever heard of a shotgun kiss?"
Pocket freezes, stunned to silence by the implication of what Enigma might have in store for him. His breaths quicken, fingers cold where they grip the railing to steady himself.
Enigma smirks at him knowingly, a devilish incline of his head prompting for an answer. Pocket flushes shamefully, wanting to close the distance between them but also further himself as a mercy to his heart and conscious.
"I, uh… Kinda." Pocket coughs, gloved hand covering his mouth to refrain from his excitement. He felt like a teenager, panicked and eager all the same despite also the doubt and potential humiliation he might face later. Enigma eyes him with an unnamed emotion that has him shivering.
"Lean down and open your mouth." Enigma instructs, tone dangerously even as he goes to inhale deeply from the cigarette. Pocket's throat dries and he nearly backs away weren't it for the possessive hand tangling into the hair at the back of his head.
His mind whirrs, wondering when Enigma and he were so close to begin with while also pleased by their lips meeting moments after. Pocket stills, unsure of himself as smoke unfurls from Enigma's lips against his. He gives a panicked inhale, fingers twisting in Enigma's jacket for purchase.
"You have to kiss me, then inhale." Enigma berates him, mirth filled tone making Pocket's head swim where he dumbly nods. They're pressed up closer now, noses brushing and little space between them for shared breaths. Pocket blushes, "Y-yeah, sorry." He mumbles, watching Enigma take another lengthy inhale from the lit stick.
This time Enigma guides him by the hand behind his neck and cups his cheek in the other for the kiss. Pocket parts his lips easier in time to receive the exhaled smoke, which clings to the roof of his mouth like a sweetened candy. His head lightens, pleased by the success before his world tilts on its axis.
Enigma does not let go of him, instead his hold tightens and Pocket gasps at the wet sensation against his lips. It provides the opportunity for Enigma to kiss him proper, if not also messily where there's tongue and an accumulation of spit.
His body shudders and heats, fingers clenching and unclenching to keep Enigma where he is. The man's tongue takes to exploring Pocket's mouth, responsive to pleased hums or choked moans where he can't voice a 'please-'.
What does he want? His mind blanks when Enigma maneuvers his knee between Pocket's legs and he keens against the other man.
As quickly as it came, it was gone.
Pocket's chest rises and falls with his staggered breaths and watered cries when the blood rushing south and heat abandons him. Enigma pulls away from both actions, holding him still from chasing his lips whilst blind to the glistening chord of what remained of their kiss was split.
"Too much?" Enigma asks innocently, mocking him practically because Pocket knows he knows. He feels frustrated and cheated, so in some form of his anger and neediness, he drags Enigma in for another kiss. And another. And another...
They're breathless, worked up and at some point Enigma had completely forgotten about his smoking break for favour of Pocket's lips against his. A different heat in his throat and more addictive than the sweetness of tobacco.