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“It’s a SmartVape.” Assad explains patiently. “You can play games on it. Like Block Blast.”
“This is a sign.” Eric responds. He cranes his neck to look at the screen and it genuinely scares him. It looks just like an iPhone home screen. “The world is ending. Glad I won’t be here to see the worst of it.”
Assad frowns at him, pushing him lightly. “Don’t say that. You’re going to live forever.” It’s an emphatic statement and Assad looks so serious, sitting there cross legged on his couch and Eric almost believes him.
Eric wiggles his vampire acrylics at him and bares his teeth like he’s got fangs. “I vant to suck your vape.” He hisses, holding his hand out.
“No nicotine for you, grandpa.” Assad sticks his tongue out at him. Then, very rudely, brings the vape to his mouth and takes a leisurely drag, Arctic Berry Blast flavored air filling his lungs. Eric can’t remember the last time he’s had a cigarette and he aches for one now, his fingers going all jittery.
Assad goes a little cross eyed, trying to look at the screen while he’s actively vaping and Eric grins, taking his phone out to take a picture. He shows it to Assad, saying, “Bet your Smart Vape can’t do that!”
“I think there are some that actually have cameras.” Assad’s words come out in a cloud of sweet air. “I should get one of those. Or the ones that play music. Jacob would get a kick out of that.”
“Smoking kills, you know.” Eric says grumpily. “You should give me your vape so that I can get rid of it for you.”
“How sweet.” Assad says, rolling his eyes. “So concerned for my health.”
“A little puff never killed anyone.” Eric tries again and Assad bats his outstretched hand away.
He brings the vape to his mouth again and Eric sticks both middle fingers up at him, but instead of breathing out, Assad leans across to the other side of the couch, face to face with Eric. ErIc freezes. He can feel the heat radiating from Assad, smell the faint traces of his deodorant.
Assad gently tugs at Eric’s bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger until Eric’s brain catches up and his mouth falls open. The younger man leans in until their lips are all but touching and slowly opens his mouth, breathing out into Eric’s mouth.
Eric hardly even tastes the artificial flavoring, hardly feels the negligible amount of nicotine passing into his body. Assad remains in place until he finishes his long exhale, still not touching Eric at all. Goosebumps spread across Eric’s neck and arms and his throat goes dry.
“There.” Assad says quietly. He leans back a little. “Stop whining now.”
“Uh, I didn’t,” He stops and clears his throat when his voice comes out croaky. “I barely got any.”
The corner of Assad’s lips tug upwards into an almost patronizing smile. “You want more?”
Eric nods dumbly, already leaning in. Assad taps at Eric’s mouth, open up, and Eric gladly parts his lips. He feels kind of stupid, sitting there with his mouth open, waiting like a dog with his tail wagging for a treat, but Assad is looking at him with this unreadable look in his eyes and Eric hasn’t felt anything like this in a long, long time. Assad takes a quick hit and reaches out, snaking his hand around Eric’s neck. He pulls him closer and leans down, opening his mouth into Eric’s. Their mouths brush a little this time and it takes everything Eric has in him to stay still, to not chase it. His eyes had automatically fallen shut but he opens them and sees Assad’s are closed too, his thick eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. He’s so close that the rest of his features are blurred but Eric takes a mental picture, trying to commit it to memory.
Assad lets go of his neck and pulls back. “Um.” He says, a statement in itself.
Eric doesn’t know how to respond. Somehow, he doesn’t think begging to share Assad’s breath would be tasteful. He licks his lips, a stalling gesture more than anything but it seems to spring Assad into motion again. The younger man kisses him softly, no cameras, no excuses to hide behind. Eric could melt at the touch, the easy way their lips slot together and move, the feeling of Assad moving closer and closer against him. Eric grips Assad’s waist to steady himself and Assad yelps, pulling away.
“Oh, fuck.” Eric pulls his hands away. “Nails, I’m so sorry kid. I keep forgetting I have them…”
Assad grabs his hands and puts them back on his hips. “Don’t call me kid when your tongue was down my throat two seconds ago.” He orders. His mouth is shiny with Eric’s spit, swollen and red. Eric shudders against the onslaught of sudden, fierce desire.
He pecks Assad on the nose. “Sorry.”
Assad wrinkles his nose, smiling. “Or maybe…” He laughs self-deprecatingly, ducking his head. “Do whatever feels natural to you, I dunno. It’s kind of hot.”
Eric grins then, squeezing gently. “Yeah?”
Assad forgoes an answer by kissing him again. He carefully straddles Eric so every inch of him is pressed up against the older man and the movement causes his Smart Vape to fall off the sofa, the sound muffled by the rug. Neither of them notice.