Kissing was a science to Myde. When done just right, it'd insure that the receiver kept coming back for more. When done wrong, well, he knew not to expect a phone call in the near future. That was a rare occurrence for him though. Kissing was something he'd long since mastered.
Blades of grass flattened under the young blonde's hand when leaned back. As he stared up at the twinkling stars that dotted the black sky, it occurred to him that ripped up jeans, sockless feet, and a ratty short sleeved shirt might not have been the best thing to go out in. It was too late to head back now though, not until he'd had his smoke anyways.
An unlit joint rolled between chewed up lips.
Lips which had feasted upon bronzed skin just an hour ago. Braig loved his lips. The noises he made when Myde's lips teased his skin, and the way he'd finally break and beg for more, told Myde this. As did the fact that no matter how many time they hurled words at each other like poison tipped daggers, Braig always came back for more kisses.
Some called them twisted. Others say that they should break up. That the way they treat each other, is just unhealthy. They say that if they stay together, they'll end up breaking each other. That there is not sweetness in their volatile kisses.
He dug a lighter out of his pocket, his thumb skimming over the top before flicking over the wheel. Butane and sparks mated to birth a flame that brought life to the joint gripped by his lips.
Why would people say such things? Were they blind? Could they not see that when he and Braig yelled at each other, it was their way of showing each other that they cared? Could they also not see that when their teeth scraped over the other's flesh, it was their way of saying "you're mine"?
Did the fact that he would often bite Braig's bottom lip when kissing the male, make their shared kisses any less sweet? Because their kisses did not fit into the stereotypical mold, did that make them bad?
He deeply inhaled, taking the smoke from his drug of choice into his lungs. So preoccupied was he with his thoughts that didn't notice the approach of another.
To Myde, kisses were like fingerprints. Each person has their own unique way of kissing. What might be passionate for some, tongues warring as spit is swapped, might just be business for another. And what might be soft and sweet for some, could just be boring for others.
"What's got you looking so irritated?"
Surprise jolted through Myde's body, the joint nearly slipping from his lips. He slid his gaze to his lover, all thoughts of ripping the other male a new one vanishing. His gaze instantly locking onto a naked bronzed chest.
"You're going to freeze dipshit," casually said Myde as he took the joint from his lips.
"Tch, as if," garbed in only black pajama pants, Braig settled next to his lover, "I'm made of tougher stuff then that kid."
"You keep telling yourself that old man." Myde squeezed off the lit end of the joint before pocketing what was left over. It was time to test something out. Without warning, he fisted a hand in his lover's black hair and dragged him into a kiss.
Lips met for a kiss that was foreign to both the receiver and giver. It was a soft kiss that lacked the violence both men craved and left both unsatisfied when they pulled away.
"What the hell was that?" asked Braig, irritation glinting in his golden eyes.
"A kiss?"
"Bull, kid," Braig jabbed Myde in the chest with a finger, "You've been smoking too much of that grass."
Maybe he had been smoking too much, but he had gotten what he wanted. Braig found the kisses of the norm just as dull as he.
Myde lunged at the other man, their lips joining for a bruising kiss. Crushing grass beneath their bodies as they rolled. Teeth found flesh, marks were left, and pain was soothed with the lapping of a tongue.
The kisses he shared with Braig were the sweetest he'd ever had.
I do not own Kingdom Heart's characters.
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