Authors note: This is on of those Kink meme's that are all the rage. Not sure if I'm doing this right, but oh well. (LJ confuses/angers me so you won't find me posting this or anything else on there, sorry.) To those who've noticed the lack of dialogue in most of my fics... well, there's a reason for that- I STINK AT IT. It's so hard for me to write, I don't even know. Forgive me. D:
Prompt: "I couldn't help but notice how pretty Logan's lips are. I imagine someone else would notice too."
It was his lips.
Not his ready smile, nor the way he was always in motion, even in sleep. It wasn't the unwavering glow of love in his sparkling brown eyes whenever Logan looked at him. It wasn't even his misplaced trust he put so blindly in the strangers that surround him that made Kendall's knees weak.
It was those lips that so readily sent him over the edge. The way they came together and seemed to invite a gentle meeting with his own whenever the boy pouted at him. Their soft curves, like ornaments adorning his features, almost girlish in their fullness, always ready to stretch into a wide, crooked smile at any moment. The way they plumped up red, like ripe cherries, when Logan gnawed at them, lost in some thought that demanded all his attention. Their irresistible softness was like the finest velvet or the skin of a freshly picked peach, that Kendall dared touch only- oh so carefully, the lightest of caresses with his own lips or fingertips.
Before he was able to claim those lips as his own Kendall would spend hours wondering whether they would taste sweet or spicy, whether the moisture of a kiss would cling to them, making them glisten and open in invitation.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise to see that one day someone might come to notice those pretty pink lips as well.
He'd caught sight one afternoon. There, by the empty pool area he stood, or rather leaned. His back forced up again the wall adjacent to the entry, eyes closed tightly, a grimace on his face. One hand gripped tightly on the fabric of the offenders shirt pushing outward, the other trying desperately to free itself from the death grip on his wrist.
It was in that moment that he saw red. The rush of pure rage pulsed through his veins, his feet on autopilot as he rushed over to defend his lover. It all went by in a flash, a flurry of colors blinding his vision.
The next thing he knew there was a sobbing, utterly terrified Logan in his arms, his incoherent mumbles coming out in short gasps while a thoroughly pummeled teenager lay on the ground bleeding profusely.
That night he spent hours kissing those beautiful lips only stopping to whisper the occasional "I love you".
Yes, in the end, it wasn't Logan's body, or eyes, or movements that Kendall watched hungrily. It was those irresistible, incredibly alive and always moving lips that never failed to draw his gaze, his undivided attention.
Because it was those lips that showed such strength, the determination to succeed in whatever he did. It was those lips that brought forth profound ideas and opinions bursting out like the flowers that spring up through the muddied, thinning snow in the first days of spring. Lips that Kendall constantly yearned to touch with his own, each and every touch burning into his memory, the feel imprinted in his brain until the sight of them would fade from his vision.
The remnant of those memories remaining until he could meet those lips again.
~Fin