A Bitter Taste in the Mouth
By Carnifax
Teen Titans
Garth/Roy
Rated T
General/Romance
"Roy, why are you wondering what I taste like?" SpAqua one-shot.
This… is complete and total WAFF, done after a detention and before our Winter Formal dance. (At the dance, I learned how to insult drunken sluts… in Deutsch!)
Ah! The sappiness! It burns my eyes! (sticks out tongue)
It was one of those rare days at the Tower when the twins were training in the gym, Karen was at the other Tower making plans for the upcoming holiday party and the two elder boys of the team practically had the Tower to themselves. Garth had been swimming all morning, Roy had been doing pretty much nothing, and they didn't see each other until lunch. When they finished eating—Garth made the meal—they both sat on the couch, feet illegally propped up on the table, magazines in hand.
But Roy couldn't focus on the warped story of their most recent triumph that sat before him, scrawled across the page with altered pictures and in-your-face headlines. His eyes kept trailing over the pages of the periodical to watch his teammate.
Garth was fairly hypnotizing. Every so often, his features would quirk into some semblance of sarcasm or concern; when he read something funny, the edges of his mouth would turn up and he'd bite his lower lip, teething it and trying not to grin. When he had to turn the page, he'd move in slow motion, raising his hand to his mouth and running his tongue oh-so-gently across the tip of his index finger, deeply focused as he finished reading the last paragraphs of the page.
"Is something wrong, Roy?"
It actually took a few seconds for him to realize that a pair of eyes was staring back at him over a magazine, violet and inquiring. Garth tipped his head, a silent echo of the question, and blinked innocently.
Roy put his fingers to his own mouth, still slightly lost in Garth's subconscious habits, and answered with a question. "Do… do you taste like salt?"
For a moment, Garth didn't know what to say. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and he failed to restrain a grin, eventually choking out an amused laugh. "What?"
"I mean, when you lick your finger to turn the page"—he gave an exaggerated demonstration—"do you taste salt?"
Once again, Garth was speechless. "I… what?" He laughed. "Roy, why are you wondering about what I taste like?"
"I'm not!" the redhead said, suddenly red. "I just mean—just, like, do you taste salt all the time?"
The Atlantean was beginning to catch on, albeit with a smirk on his face. "Because I swim in the ocean, which is salty, I must taste like salt?"
"Not taste like, just taste!"
Garth closed the magazine and set it in his lap with a roll of his eyes. "I don't know, Roy. Do you taste like the polluted, smog-filled air of Steel City?"
"You know what I meant…!"
The dark-haired prince shook his head but, obligingly, brought his hand to his mouth again. He set his lips on one knuckle and left them there, running his tongue over the curve of the bone, looking contemplative. Then he pulled his hand away and shrugged. "I taste like nothing." A pause, and then he laughed. "Do you want to try?"
Roy stared at him. It was his turn to let out a confused, "What?"
"Well, I'm accustomed to salt," Garth reasoned, getting up from the couch. "Obviously I would taste nothing. You're a landlover—you try it." He sat beside Roy on the couch, facing the archer, and extended his other hand. "Go on, do it."
Roy leaned away from the hand. "You want me to lick your hand?"
Garth shrugged. "You were one who brought it up. Weren't you curious?"
"I'm not curious anymore!"
"But now I'm curious," he whined theatrically, "and I can't very well go up to Karen and say, 'Can you lick me?' because that would just be awkward."
"Like this isn't?" Roy protested, and then he yelped as the extended hand approached his mouth alarmingly fast. But just when he thought he was about to be force-fed Garth's hand, the pale Atlantean fingers pressed against his jaw, turning Roy's face toward his teammate.
That's when Roy realized just how close they really were sitting, and as Garth leaned in, it seemed only natural for the archer to close his eyes and comply with the warm mouth pressing cautiously against his. It had barely begun when Garth pulled away, and Roy felt himself leaning forward, unwilling to end the kiss. But it had to end; and despite how potentially tense the silence could've been afterward, it wasn't, because Garth was smirking in personal triumph and immediately said, "Salty, Roy?"
The redhead licked his lips, not quite imperceptibly, and shook his head. "I… don't know. I wasn't paying attention to—"
Garth gave an exasperated sigh, once again theatric, and clicked his tongue. "You must've failed every science class you took. When testing a hypothesis, it's essential that you observe and record your findings!" Clicking his tongue again, he leaned closer and was mere inches away when he whispered, "Pay attention this time…"
This time, Roy was ready for it, and still it was entirely unexpected. This time, there was power behind the kiss, any doubts overwhelmed by want. Their mouths shifted and Roy made a thin line with his tongue on Garth's bottom lip, eliciting a rumble from his chest. He did the same thing again and Garth parted his lips with a sigh, idly stroking his thumb down Roy's jaw. It was nearly a minute until they pulled away a second time, Roy finally letting go of the lip he'd caught gently between his teeth.
It took a second, but then the archer spoke. "No salt," he affirmed before his tone turned soft. "But… what…"
"Don't know," Garth chuckled before he could finish. "But just for the record, you taste nothing like smog." And then he leaned in again.
(I think he actually does taste like salt…)
Review, bitte…