Work Text:
Alexander often divulges stories of his amorous dalliances, and assures the staff that all the ladies he’s bedded were delighted with his company. We tease him of his bragging, denounce his stories as exaggeration, and when he returns to headquarters at the Potts house one night, claiming to have finished a lady with kisses alone, it draws hysteric laughter through all the boys, breaks the somber mood of the camp with something outlandish and providing some desperately-needed fodder for our amusement.
But, I’m afraid it may be true…
Now, as his hands hold infuriatingly immobile at my hips, lips pulling against mine with a pointed patience, a restraint he never exhibits during these affectionate actions we take to release tension, I can tell he’s taunting me for having laughed at his expense. Each time I pull away in protest, coax him to move to the pallet we share, his hands tighten at my hips and he waits, does not move, and I know that if I were to press him harder, urge him for more fervent action, I would reveal my own eagerness and submit to his victory. So, he waits, eyes lightly closed, lips parted in invitation until I return to his mouth and renew my efforts of coaxing him to urgency.
And, we kiss. We kiss, and kiss, lips dancing and demurring into a haze of affection, exploring new methods of application, new causes for conquest, undiscovered strategies of employing tongue or teeth, tactics we had not yet tried as if we have nothing but time. His mouth is soft and giving and yet also hard and insistent and far too stimulating. Whatever disbelief I had harbored for my friend’s talents is long gone in a daze of flowery diction coursing through my mind- poems and ballads I could write to this feeling. I shall never understand how Alexander’s body conveys passion so clearly- how I can feel that he is feeding me his soul in each sigh, coating my lips with his love.
I’m unreasonably aroused.
This is only a kiss.
Occasionally, an awkward disturbance would pass between the confident actions of our lips, a bewildering wet sound as from excessive suction, a jarring of teeth when one might press forth before the other intended to retreat, a lick or nip carried out too hastily or clumsily, a bump of noses in passing while shifting to make a more perfect angle. Instantly, on these would-be mortifying blunders, his lips would draw tight in a smile, giddy and amused if only for a moment before his delight softened into something warmer, expansive, deep and enchanted, pulling me to smile in return, submit to this beautiful torture. His arms confine my shoulders, body stretching against mine to reach me, and I know he must feel his affect where his hips press to mine. His hands brush through my hair and along my jaw as his tongue explores the shape of my mouth forming a smile, and I can take it no more- I’ve already been caught. I give with a regrettable whimper, grabbing my friend’s waist roughly, pulling him higher against me and turning us both, dropping and tackling him to the pallet.
He laughs in delight.