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The moon is already halfway into the sky when Ruggie sees him. He’s standing at the edge of the lawn, a joint in his mouth and smoke around his face. It makes the man look hazy like he’s stepped straight out of one of Ruggie’s dreams.
Ruggie’s not exactly scared to approach him, but there’s something about him that makes Ruggie’s nerves tense and his hands shake. “Hey,” he says when he’s within earshot. “Got a cigarette?”
The man glances at Ruggie, and Ruggie loses his breath when those bright green eyes meet his. They slide slowly, electrically, over his body, and the man finally says, “If you’ve got a lighter.”
“I’ve got magic,” Ruggie says, lighting a small fire just above his index finger. In response, the man pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He flips the lid open and lets Ruggie take one. Ruggie slips it into his mouth and lights his cigarette with a flick of his wrist. The man takes his joint out of his mouth and flicks it into the grass, stamping it out with the heel of his expensive-looking leather boots. He lifts a cigarette to his own lips and leans toward Ruggie, his voice dropping when he says, “Light it.”
Ruggie’s hand shakes when he lifts his hand to the man’s cigarette. His fingers brush the man’s lips when he drops his hand, and it occurs to Ruggie that the man must’ve moved closer. Ruggie tucks one hand into the pocket of his hoodie and uses the other to hold his cigarette. He tries not to stare, but his eyes keep finding the man’s face.
He tries to control his breathing when he takes in a deep breath of smoke, but he coughs heavily. The man glances at him, smirking slightly. “You don’t smoke, do you?”
Ruggie covers his mouth with one hand, trying to steady his breath. “N-no.” He grins self-deprecatingly at the man. “I just needed an excuse to come talk to you.”
The man’s smirk widens into an amused smile, and he finally turns to face Ruggie. “Alright. Then talk.”
Ruggie beams. “My name’s Ruggie.”
“Leona.”
Elegant, pretty, strong. It suits him. Ruggie tells him as much, and Leona turns his face away, blowing rings of smoke. He lifts one fine-boned hand and waves the rings away, green eyes sliding to Ruggie’s face again. His pupils are huge, the green of his irises just visible enough to send shivers down Ruggie’s spine.
Ruggie tries to take another drag of his cigarette, and again, he makes a fool of himself, coughing so hard he has to lean forward. Leona laughs at him, and the melody of it is enough to make Ruggie’s embarrassment disappear. He looks up through his lashes at Leona, squinting slightly and peering past the uncomfortable tears in his eyes. He sees Leona’s breath catch, then the man turns back to Ruggie fully.
“Here. Let me.” He takes another drag of his cigarette and pulls Ruggie up by his shoulder. He leans down, prying Ruggie’s mouth open with his thumb, and breaths a bit of smoke into Ruggie’s mouth. It spirals back out immediately, Ruggie’s lips staying parted when Leona leans back.
Laughing again, Leona says, “You still have to do some work when you’re shotgunning.”
“Well,” Ruggie says, swallowing thickly. “If I’d known I was about to shotgun, then I would’ve.”
Leona smiles, taking another deep breath of his cigarette. “You sure?”
Ruggie’s face heats up at the name. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He steps closer. “Try me.”
Leona’s tail flicks up, curling around Ruggie’s waist as he leans back down, taking another deep drag.
This time, when Leona leans down, Ruggie meets him halfway, stealing an open-mouthed kiss and sucking the smoke from Leona’s mouth. He holds it a bit better this time, keeping eye contact with Leona as he breaths out. His throat itches, but he stubbornly doesn’t cough.
Leona doesn’t let him take another breath- he presses his lips against Ruggie’s again, guiding him into a kiss that tastes like cigarettes and weed and beer. Ruggie shouldn’t be as into it as he is, but he’s entirely breathless when they separate. His fingers have curled unconsciously into Leona’s shirt, the cherry of his cigarette dangerously close to Leona’s hair. They seem to notice this at the same time, as Leona angles his body back while Ruggie pulls his hand away. He flicks the cigarette away, dragging Leona back to him as he absently stamps it out.
Their third kiss is no less electric than the first two, and within seconds, Leona’s hands are circled around Ruggie’s waist, and Ruggie’s hands are tangled in Leona’s hair. A small, needy noise escapes Ruggie, and he presses himself ever closer.
Leona turns his head slightly, breaking the kiss to say, “You’re coming home with me.”
“No shit,” Ruggie says, pressing kisses against the line of Leona’s throat. Leona lets out a shaky noise when Ruggie reaches his collarbone, and when Ruggie digs his teeth in, Leona shudders and says, “ Now .”
Ruggie leans back and grins at Leona, repeating, “No shit.”