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iTrapped's hands were handsome to look at, faintly raised veins winding over the back of his hand, disappearing into his sleeve cuff. He held the glass, and the prominent knuckles became even more defined as his fingers bent, adding an extra layer of allure to the drink in your hand.
"Tequila, you know how to drink it?"
You poured the clear liquid into the glass, then pinched the stem and swirled it. The liquid swayed, and with the movement, trapped iTrapped's reflection within the distorted image of the alcohol. Your hazy gaze, filtered through the drink, poured into the eyes of the person beside you.
"Hmm?" His voice was lazy, trailing off slightly. His gaze bypassed the glass, sliding slowly from your eyes, down to your fingers, then back up to your eyes.
Prepared in advance, you pinched a small pinch of salt from the small dish beside you.
He rested his other elbow on the edge of the table, his cheek propped on the back of his hand, just watching you with his head tilted, a faint smile curving his lips.
Like someone invited to dance, he offered his hand, palm up, fingers drooping slightly, thumb curved into an arc, creating a small hollow in the webbing between thumb and forefinger.
Your free hand cradled his fingers. You loosened your grip on the pinch of salt, letting the grains fall into the hollow of his hand. Then you shifted to hold his wrist, pulling it slightly towards yourself. He followed your lead easily, docilely.
You lowered your head, your face just blocking his view. That patch of skin on his hand was slightly cool, warming to your touch. Your tongue touched it – rough at first. His fingers curled slightly, reaching upward. The salt dissolved in your mouth, the salty, astringent taste spreading across your tongue.
iTrapped raised an eyebrow subtly. You quickly picked up the bottle of tequila; its faint, mild spiciness stimulated your tongue. The lime juice and salt neutralized the spice, leaving only the mellow base flavor. This was one of the ways to drink tequila.
His gaze felt as if he were drinking that glass of wine for you. The small patch of skin on his hand, where you had licked, was moist. He withdrew his hand, only to pour himself a glass as well.
"Do you want to be closer to me?" he asked.
He took your wrist and pulled, and you ended up sitting sideways on his lap. His palm covered your waist. He raised his other hand, pinched a bit of salt from the small dish, and looked at you. You felt a tickle on your neck; the collar of your shirt was open, the side of your neck exposed to the air.
You just watched as iTrapped's finger pressed against your collarbone, then relaxed, letting the salt fall there. Some stray grains escaped into the fabric of your clothes. You just waited, your breathing becoming irregular because of it.
"Darling, hold the glass for me?" His voice was close to your ear.
As you grasped the cold glass, his hair brushed against your cheek. He rested his head against your jaw, nuzzling your neck. His slightly parted lips first closed over the skin just below, his warm breath grazing your skin, sending a fleeting wave of numbness.
Pressing against your skin, he moved slowly upwards, bit by bit, kissing his way towards the salt grains nestled in the hollow of your collarbone. His hot, moist tongue licked your skin, tracing a circle from the edges, the wet sensation leaving a trail, before closing over the salt in the center.
Perhaps it was the earlier alcohol going to your head, a dazed, different thought surfaced. You took a mouthful of the cold liquor, your other arm reaching behind his neck, resting on his shoulder to lock him in place. Looking down at him, those blue eyes were right there.
He blinked, his gaze fixed on the moistened skin on your neck. He blinked again, and his eyes met yours. His look seemed filled with intoxication. As he tilted his head upward, you leaned in and kissed him. But he didn't seem to accept you at first. As youively used your tongue, trying to part his lips, he kept them closed. Until you grew a little impatient and let out a soft hum. iTrapped, seemingly satisfied, slowly opened his lips, following the movement of your tongue. His tongue met yours, and the tequila was passed into his mouth.
You hadn't taken much liquor. His Adam's apple moved once, and the faint spiciness was swallowed into his stomach. The hand on your shoulder began to climb upwards – your neck, the back of your head – finally threading into your hair, gently pressing, making you yield to him. He chased after your retreating tongue, wet, as if greedily trying to lick up any remaining drops of alcohol, mingling with your mixed saliva, deepening the kiss, entwining with you.
Having teased enough, he pulled back slightly. His teeth grazed your lip, leaving a faint, almost imperceptible sting, then he tenderly pressed one last kiss, completely ignoring the neglected lime nearby.
"Oh…" that soft sound was muffled in his throat. "Don't be like this, You'll sweep me off my feet." He squinted, embedding you in his gaze.
As if he hadn't been the one doing all of this.
You chuckled softly, touching his cheek, thumb stroking it. "Heh, drunk after just one sip?"
His smile deepened, his voice dropping low, as if meant only for you. "One drop and I'm drunk."