Work Text:
Krem was pretty sure sex was not happening tonight, given that they’d both been sick most of the week. But Cullen had come over anyway, and they’d spent some time chatting on the patio, and now they were snuggled up together in bed. (Had they ever snuggled with their clothes on before? No, not unless you counted sitting on the porch swing with Cullen’s arm around him.)
Cullen had said something earlier about sprawling out and getting a back rub, and Krem was happy to oblige. For once, the usual “but I’m not good at...!” line of thinking wasn’t running through his mind - or it was, but it was quieter than usual, and easier to ignore. Krem could ignore a lot with a curly-haired Adonis in his bed, occasionally murmuring in appreciation.
He moved his hand to run it through Cullen’s curls, then began massaging his head. He was met with a small noise something like a purr, so he kept going, alternately scratching and massaging.
Time was as soft as the lamplight, or as soft as Cullen’s hair, and Krem wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, Cullen’s face tucked up near Krem’s collarbone, their legs tangled together, his fingers working gently through Cullen’s hair.
Then Cullen tilted his face up and found Krem’s lips with his own, and Krem could have sworn his heart stopped in that moment. It wasn’t some graceful, precise Disney kiss. It was almost a nuzzle, noses brushing together, lips meeting however they could given that they hadn’t exactly positioned themselves for kissing. What it lacked in precision it made up for in intimacy and the tenderest hunger Krem had ever felt and the sheer goodness of Cullen’s lips half-brushing, half-pressing against his own.
Krem returned the kiss with the same smoldering need, fingers no longer scratching but merely holding Cullen’s head close. His own head was tilted down, as if he were the taller man, and it was so unfamiliar as to make the entire kiss feel new, as if he were 15 again and just figuring out to move his mouth in time with another. His heart had started up again and was racing, and he could have sworn he was forgetting to breathe for a half minute at a time, and the kiss went on.
And then Cullen’s tongue was delving into Krem’s mouth, not the careful, measured swipes Krem had grown accustomed to, but deep and desperate, and Krem tried to return it in kind, but he seemed to have forgotten everything he ever knew about kissing, and there was a brief moment of “does he even like what I’m doing with my tongue” anxiety, and then it didn’t matter. All that existed was their breathless mouths and the burning need for this moment to never end.