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His cheek is cold beneath your lips and he has that oddly specific snow smell, sharp and weirdly metallic. Warm breath ghosts against your cold, grey skin and your lips follow the warmth to its source, your firm lips pressing against his chapped ones. He sighs into your mouth and you taste the cocoa he drank at the party you two just got home from, the memories of which still swim pleasantly in your mind. You’re usually not one for social gatherings, but spending the evening at Dave’s side and watching him flourish under the warm attention of his friends had made you smile more than once. You stayed by his side on the way home, too, hand buried in Dave’s coat pocket and clutching onto his tightly. You lost your glove at the party and Dave teased you about it until you shut him up by sliding your cold hand up his back, under his clothes.
The walk had been pleasant, not even Dave’s rambling able to fully shatter the peaceful quiet of fresh snowfall. You watched as white snowflakes caught on his white eyelashes, shades tucked away because the plastic was too cold against his face. Warm puffs of air left his mouth as he spoke, tongue darting out frequently to wet his chapped lips. You wanted to do it for him.
Knowing Dave, you were already aware you weren’t going to get home without an impromptu snowball fight. As you’re fishing out the keys for your hive (his hive, too, everything inside is the both of yours, you share this living space with the love of your life) you’re not all that surprised when you feel the snowball hit the back of your head. Naturally, you growl and return fire, the battle waging on until you’re both soaked and shivering. Both of you stumble inside, Dave laughing as you complain all the way to the coat closet. Dave pulls the mistletoe out of his pocket after you’re both done shucking off your wet coats and shoes, and you rolled your eyes at his predictability before kissing him.
And here the both of you still are, bodies pressed close together in a desperate bid for warmth and something a bit more animalistic. You fulfill your previous desire to wet his lips when you slip your tongue past them and into his mouth, Dave giving you an approving hum in response. The heat inside his mouth is a shock to your system, and you shiver against him from more than just cold. His arms wrap around your neck, one hand rooting itself in your hair and pulling it lightly, nails gently scraping against your scalp in the way he knows you like. A possessive chitter crawls its way up your throat, melting into a sweet purr when he slides his tongue against yours. You rest your hands on his hips, swaying your bodies together to some unheard music. When you step closer to him, you hear the carpet squish beneath you, looking down to see a puddle of melted snow the two of you dripped onto the floor. His laughter sounds like tinkling when he suggests “getting our naked on,” and you comply.
It takes much longer than it should to make your way upstairs with him, the both of you continuously finding reason the draw together again; wanting to push wet hair out of his eyes, him wiping a droplet of melted snow off the tip of your nose before it falls, accidentally bumping against him on the narrow steps. Several minutes and a few more make out sessions later, you’ve finally opened the door to your shared room and stepped inside. It’s dark and quiet, the heat of your hive just now starting to permeate your wet clothes to warm up your skin. You and Dave share glances as you both strip, getting plenty of suggestive winks and waggled eyebrows out of your boyfriend, causing you to snort. He grabs some towels from the bathroom and you give each other a quick toweling off before crawling into bed, cocooning yourself in fluffy blankets and lips quickly finding each other again. Dave tends to make fun of your blanket hoarding, but you never hear him complain when it comes to fun naked bed times.
The two of you come together as if you haven’t touched in years, bodies curling around each other and legs twisting together like two super gay snakes (you both hate and love how Dave has infected your internal dialogue.) He smiles into the kiss like he’s privy to your thoughts, which you imagine he’d feel plenty triumphant over. The warmth and softness of him makes you smile back, pressing still cold hands onto his red cheeks. He clicks his tongue scoldingly but doesn’t pull away, instead pressing closer with both his body and his lips.
You ask him if he wants to go further tonight. He says no, that this is good.
Something about him being happy with just your kiss and your touch warms you to your core.
And that warmth causes you to melt along with the last of the chill from the snow, oozing over Dave like a gooey puddle of sickly sweetness. Dave gave mean, old warlock a toy, he stole Frosty’s hat, and Karkat’s small heart grew three sizes that day.
There goes that infection, flaring up again. You wonder if there’s a cream for it.
You end up getting lost in your thoughts as the two of you kiss and meld together, which is somewhat uncharacteristic of you. But you can’t help it, mind suddenly full of everything the two of you have together. You think of the jpeg artifact covered Christmas decorations strewn throughout the house, tied together by Dave’s replica of the kringle fucker. You think of the small pile of presents laid beneath it, half of them neatly wrapped in shiny red paper and the other half a mess of smuppet wrapping paper and scotch tape. You think of the pancake and coco mix in the kitchen, and the breakfast you and Dave will make together tomorrow morning, licking batter covered spoons and wiping sticky syrup off smiling lips. You think of opening gifts together, the shy happiness Dave will have on his face when he opens the ones from you, and the nervous anticipation that’ll cause him to chew on his lip while you’re unwrapping the gifts from him. Most of all, you think of him in your arms right now, his smell and taste and touch, oh so familiar and comforting. You think of home, how he IS your home.
There’s a sudden lump in your throat and you swallow around it, Dave pressing his forehead against yours and whispering soothing words over your lips. He etches his touch into the expanse of your back and you bury your face into his neck, breathing him in deeply so your lungs will never be without him. His chest vibrates with a sleepy hum, his usual signal of beginning to drift off. You purr softly in return, affection audible between the two of you and vibrating your beings apart until you shift and fuse together, perception of where you end and he begins getting hazy.
“I love you.”
His words suck you back into yourself, and like many times before you’re left feeling shaken over how easily that simple affirmation can still rock you. Your arms wrap around Dave of their own accord and your eyes slip shut as you return his words.
“I love you, too.”
They’re the last words you say before falling asleep, and the first ones you’ll say when you both wake up.