He feels the hand run along his bearded chin, slowly, dragging the thumb along the short hairs.
"I liked talking to you more before you had that beard. You look like Ezio."
He hums as he's brought in for another kiss, short and sweet.
"You should change that."
"How?"
Brown eyes meet. Lips brush together. A tongue teases his mouth. A bird chirps somewhere in. A gentle breeze blows. The sky is blue. The forest is perfect and pristine. This is a perfect world.
"This is your world. If you try too hard to remember, then your memory might lie to you."
"What?"
Another kiss passes between them like a secret. An animal moves just inside the forest foliage. Their clearing is quiet. This is their time.
"Your memory might lie to you. Remember differently."
He can feel a memory, forced into birth, move to the front of his mind and morph his skin. It takes a bit, but eventually, he can feel the thumb brush against smooth skin. Another warm press of lips, and his tongue meets his partner's. Another chirp from a different bird, and he can feel his partner move to straddle him.
"There you go, handsome."
He feels his lips curl upward, and there's another press of lips against his. He falls backwards, off the log they were sitting on, into the soft green grass. His lover has his hands on his shoulders, staring down at him with an amused grin. He leans up like the chirping baby birds in the background for food, but he wants a kiss. He inhales deeply as he receives the kiss. He likes kissing his partner. His hands move around his lover's waist and curl against the small of his back. Another beautiful breeze blows over them, and he hums, pleased. He smiles as he pulls back, running a hand through the lighter hair.
"What?"
His lover stretches out along him, pressing soft kisses against the smooth skin on his chin.
"I'm glad your mind gave out," his lover breathes between kisses.
"Really?"
"Yes."
Desmond tilts his head back to give him more room to kiss and lick his skin. "Why?"
There's another breeze, and some more chirping. He can hear a bobcat prowling through their small clearing, and he groans when his lover nips a sensitive spot. It sends a small ripple of pleasure throughout him, and his fingers dip below his lover's waistband, rubbing against the smooth skin. When he exhales loudly against his skin, it sends a pleasant feeling across his skin.
"Why?"
"I can treat you so much better than that British man."
"So?"
Brown eyes meet again. Lips connect again in their secret way. Hands pass over smooth skin. The sky is perfect.
"You're mine now."
He smirks.
"And this is your world. Your image of a perfect world. And guess what? I'm here too. So I'm part of your perfect world. Not that British man."
"That still doesn't answer my question."
"What was it again?"
"Why are you glad my mind gave out?"
A bird chirps. A dog barks somewhere. The sun is setting. They should head home to their small log cabin. A soft breeze blows again, and he can hear the choir of crickets pick up their melody in the background. He watches his lover think, the tell-tale sign of looking into the sky and pursing his lips at the side of this mouth. His eyes narrow slightly in an almost relax manner, and he can see a firefly behind him flash. This world is perfect for him and his lover.
Their eyes meet again, and a smirk tugs at his lover's lips. He tilts his head in just that right manner to make him look like a predator who knew his prey was foolish to run. The grip on his shoulders tightens, and his lover presses their chests together, ghosting his lips over his and then pressing a firm kiss against his lips. He lets his tongue dart out to taste his lover's lips again, and the smirk devolves into a soft smile. The teasing look changes into something almost grateful, and he leans up slightly for a kiss. It's a slow, deep kiss, and he can hear their breaths and the kiss since the world has quieted again. He pulls him down, closer, and presses up against him. He loves this man.
His hands move under his shirt, tracing unknown symbols into the smooth skin and pressing his palms flat against the warm skin. He feels him grab his head and tilt it just so that they can have a kiss full of tongue and passion. He feels like he belongs in one of those cheesy cliché romance movies. He loves the feel of his lover against him, and he can feel every inch him despite the clothes they wear. He follows his lover up when he pulls back to get some air. The silence is filled with crickets again, and above them, an eagle screeches loudly. He watches as the man he loves inhales and exhales.
Once his breathing evens out again, he chuckles. "Will you ever respond to my question?"
He steals another kiss. His lover pulls back just enough to talk.
"You gave me the chance to live again."
I just... where do these things come from? I just stare at a prompt, and then... BOOM. Another snippet. What did you think? Sixteen and Desmond.