Copyright disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda. But that would be a great Christmas gift...

Hard Times at the Kissing Booth

IT WAS the hottest day of the summer. The air was thick, and to attempt to walk around was to attempt to stir a stagnant swamp, making it difficult to breathe. It stuck my baby hairs to my neck and my knight's uniform to my body, both of which I was about ready to rid myself of forever. The lightweight green fabric was supposed to create a cross breeze when the wind came through, but the Goddess had not blessed us on this fine day with such a royalty. Instead, she gave us a cloudless day in which the sun was a relentless foe; public enemies one through eight thousand.

It was rather ironic, really. Today was the day of the Goddess Festival. We Hylians would celebrate our goddess and give thanks, showing our unabashed gratitude. This was a tradition that had been occurring for more generations than I could count. There were performers, games, events, and traditional Hylian food. The festival was to last all day. It sounded like great fun, but I wasn't one for large crowds.

Or kissing random people.

I didn't quite understand how having a kissing booth showed our utmost respect for the goddess, and even doubly so did I misunderstand why Karane, the planner of the event, asked me to fill in two shifts. I have no idea how she persuaded me to do so, but somehow I ended up sitting on the raised platform with a bruise on my arm and a blurry memory of the conversation that I'd had with her the day before.

My shift was in the middle of the day, when the sun was at its most demonic. I sat at the shadeless booth and kissed my fellow Skyloftians. It cost two tickets for a kiss on the hand, five tickets for a peck on the cheek, and ten tickets for a peck on the lips. The line was much longer than anyone had anticipated, and the festival, now in its prime, seemed to be split fifty-fifty: one half watching the clown that was juggling two small children and three teacups while standing on a ball, and the other half in line for the kissing booth.

For the most part, customers only placed two or five tickets into the bucket beside the table. The first person to give me ten tickets was Henya, who placed a sloppy, grandmotherly kiss on about half of my face rather than my lips. The second person was Peatrice, who stood up and walked away, mumbling to herself, before I could kiss her. The line did not whittle down as I had hoped, and I ended up seeing the same people three or four times there. Kukiel had come eight times already, her chubby cheeks turning redder each time that I kissed her hand. Almost every citizen of Skyloft had been in line at one point or another, including Horwell, my biology instructor. He'd been in line at least five times, paying me five tickets in each turn. He would wait ten minutes or so before rejoining the line, probably to seem less suspicious. His tactic backfired, I will tell you that for sure.

My first shift would end in twenty minutes, and I'd get a fifteen minute break that I planned to use for the sole purpose of scrubbing my face clean. I was so very excited at the prospect that I could perhaps cease feeling so very dirty for a few minutes.

Kukiel came by again, and I told her that I would be taking a break pretty soon, and asked her to spread the word after kissing her cheek. She turned beet red, hit me on the arm, and stormed away. Just as the line began to thin out a little, a man I hadn't seen before stepped up and took a seat at the booth.

He was tall—almost annoyingly so—and lean, though his exposed arms showed how fit he was. He had blinding silvery white hair, and a thick, shining curtain of it covered his left eye. His eyelashes were the same color as his hair, and they were so long that when he blinked, they grazed his cheek. His eyes were like black onyx, and he exuded self-confidence enough that his eyes sucked you in. He had a smirk on his face that looked like it had been there since birth. His lack of clothing was appalling, even for a scalding summer day.

He stared at me down his nose, blinking once, slowly. His eyelashes caught the light and a rainbow passed over them briefly. I cleared my throat, looking down at my hands that were folded over the table.

"I have one thousand tickets," he said with a lulling, melodious voice that sounded all too self-assured. "Link," he added, looking down at the lip-shaped name tag pinned to my chest. He pulled his one-thousand tickets out of some unseen place and I watched him place them in the bucket.

"I'm not sure if I can—" I began, only to be cut off.

"Worry not, boy of the sun, I will lead you," he assured me, though I was not feeling much assurance at all. "First," he said as he removed a kerchief from the same unseen place that he'd summoned his tickets from, "I shan't allow you to wear the filth of others any longer." He rubbed his kerchief over my face roughly, and when he'd removed it, it was tinged a pinkish red by the remnants of lipstick from my skin. He spoke in a low whisper, only a few inches away. His voice lingered on my skin, making me shiver.

"Now," he purred, "my hand." I couldn't break eye contact with him, it felt like he was peering into my soul, holding me captive. Slowly, I took his cool, dry hand and placed my lips atop it. The contact sent a strange thrill through my body, one that I hadn't felt before.

"My cheek," he commanded quietly, still looking through me. I felt as if I were in a trance, someone other than myself. I leaned across the table and put my lips to his cheek, and he turned his head just a little. His breath tickled my neck, and I flinched, pulling away from him. He had a look of amusement in his eyes, and his smirk widened.

"You haven't a reason to be so red, Link," he said.

"I-I'm not," I told him indignantly, finally ripping my eyes from his and glancing down at my hands.

"Not to say that I am complaining." I could feel him looking at me.

"What do you expect me to do now?" I asked under my breath.

"I expect you to kiss me," he said. But I couldn't. I didn't know what it was, I could force myself to kiss every person in Skyloft but not this mystery man.

"I can't," I told him.

"But you will," he replied, putting his hand over mine and drawing diamonds over it with his long fingers. "I said I'd lead you," he purred once again, stroking my wrist. "Come." I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and hesitated. Our lips were inches apart; we were breathing each other's breath. He gave a little sigh and placed his hand on the nape of my neck, closing the scarce distance between us, whispering, "Close your eyes." I did.

I would go so far as to call that my first real kiss, considering all the traumatic things that had happened to me throughout the day. The initial shock that it sent through me distributed the heat more evenly across my existence. He devoured my lips, first nibbling on them gently and then biting them raw. Using his tongue, he explored the inside of my mouth. I gasped for air, trying to pull away, but he only seized my lips with twice as much conviction.

I had been resisting the entire time, but to no avail. I was losing confidence. My last act of rebellion was pushing my chair from the table, but he had a firm grasp of my wrist and kept me there.

"We are not finished yet, sky," he said with comets crashing through his eyes as he nibbled on my Adams apple. "Do not scream," he commanded, and suddenly, I felt his foot over my groin.

"He—hey," I warned, though it did not sound convincing.

"I," he began, "am the dark desires that you have hidden inside of yourself so deep that even you cannot find them." He ran his fingers through my hair and whispered into the corner of my mouth,

"And I will awaken each in you, so that you become as dark as your lusts."

Once again, his lips were atop mine, and electricity ran under my skin. He rubbed his foot over my crotch, and I closed my eyes again, shuddering. His shoe was made of cloth, and the sole was of thin rubber, meaning I felt every movement of his foot, and the movements were plentiful. Each slow, deliberate motion evoked a stifled moan from my mouth, and though I tried to close my legs, he still had free reign over me.

I had to dig my fingers into his skin so that I could feel like I wasn't flying away, like I was still alive. I was panting by then, hanging off of the man and twitching with every move. I was on the edge of something dangerous, something that came with the realization that I liked what was happening to me. I felt something surging upwards inside of my chest, and something else dying.

The man released me, and I opened my eyes slowly.

"It's hot," I breathed, just as we made eye contact. I was in a daze.

"Just wait," he smirked, standing and running a finger over my lips one last time before walking away. I went red, realizing what I'd just said. I laid my forehead on the table and shuddered, still feeling effects of the man's passion.

"Link," a familiar voice said. I looked up and saw Horwell with a bundle of tickets in his hand. He had a manic look in his eyes, and was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. "I know your break is right now, but could you—"

I stood up and ran. I ran fast and far, until I was breathless. I stopped at a tree at the edge of the sky and leaned against it, sliding to the ground with a plop. I slumped down in the shade, letting it cool me down. I noticed that the Goddess had graced us with one single cloud, shaped like a rabbit and crossing in front of the sun.

I touched the back of my hand to my cheek. Still hot. I was probably just as red as I had been before. I sat there for a long time, wondering how much I would have to let Karane hit me for forgiveness for skipping out on my next shift.

"Sun and sky sit amidst the grass," a songlike voice said from the other side of the the tree. The man came and sat next to me, leaning into my shoulder.

"Please, I can't talk right now," I said, sighing. The man put his hand on my inner thigh and his lips to my ear.

"I do not want to talk either," he cooed. "My name is Ghirahim, and I wanted to tell you that I have ten thousand tickets more."

A/N: Hello! This is just something short and cute for all of you dear Ghiralink shippers. In the very, very far and unforeseeable future, this could be a full-fledged fanfic. But for now, just enjoy thinking about what Ghirahim did with his ten-thousand tickets. Thanks for reading!

P.S. To my Aphelion followers - I know I said that I'd post this tomorrow, but I'll be busy then so I am posting it now. Happy camping ;)