Kissing was a bit like flying, Connor mused. Or at least, it felt like it. Sometimes. when it's done right. When it's done with him.
Kissing for the first time, needed a bit of courage, just as if you are jumping from a high place attempting to take your first flight. But once you're in the air - once your lips meet his - it feels incredible and a rush of adrenaline and endorphines make you feel, as if you could unhinge the whole world. For a few seconds you will loose control, due to the sudden rush of euphoria. You will drop a few feet towards earth - your teeth will clash slightly with his, making soft clicking noises. But it would only take a moment and your insticts will kick in, rising you up into the air again - correcting the angle of your head, giving him a bit space to adjust. When you land - when your lips part - you will feel a sudden, almost painful longing. You want to be up there again - kiss him again - feel the wind on your face - his lips on yours. And you won't be able to hold back and just go for it. You will push yourself of the ground - dip your head down to him - and raise your face into the wind - press your lips against his. When you manage to find a current to ride - when he starts to push back against you - the euphoria will rush back, multiplied by ten at least. You will feel it bubble in your stomach, rise to your chest and burst out without anything holding it back. The wind will carry your laughter away - his lips will suck in all the soft moans and mewling sounds, you're making - and it will be the best thing, you've ever done in your life.
Once the euphoria dies down, when you lie down in the grass, staring up into the sky - when he leans against you, sighing contently - you will quietly wonder, how you could have ever managed to live without this in your life.
Even when it becomes routine, when you rise into the air without even spending a second thought to it - when your chaste kisses turn into some kind of non-verbal communication, letting you know all the words he cannot voice, yet - it will still feel incredible and you will enjoy every second of it, subconciously finding various excuses to keep doing it some more, let it last longer.
Sometimes you will feel a bit mischievous, purposefully letting yourself drop midair - teasingly nibble at his bottom lip - flying crazy loops, or turning seconds, just before you would crash into a building - pulling away just slightly, enticing him to follow you subconciosly, until his balance is of and you just let yourself fall onto your back, pulling him with you. When you get scolded for it, you will just grin sheepishly, knowing quite well that you're in no serious trouble.
When you have to miss it for a while, not allowed to just fly around in Smallville - waiting for him to return from one of his missions - you will miss it badly. The urge to do it, the longing for the way it feels, literally driving you up the wall. And when you are finally able to do it, flying as Superboy to rush into a battle - greating him on his return, by just pushing him against a wall and kissing every possible complaint of his lips - you will do it, as if it is the last good thing you will ever do in your life. You will fly faster then nessecary, just to feel the sharp gust pressing against your face and ruffling your hair - kissing him hungrily, not even giving him time to react or space to adjust - just flying at top speed, until you have to stop instantly midair, in order to not fly to far - pressing your body against his, trapping him between yourself and the wall, until he has to turn his head away to just breath in some air into his lungs.
Yes, Connor muses, kissing him is actually a lot like flying. There's only one essential difference. He lies in his bed, looking down into those sharp, blue eyes, that he knows can easily cloud over with lust and desire, when they kiss until the eyelids will flutter close in sheer bliss. He leans down to place a soft kiss onto Tim's lips, feeling them curve into a small, genuine smile against his own.
The difference is that, if he had to, he could life without flying.
Kissing for the first time, needed a bit of courage, just as if you are jumping from a high place attempting to take your first flight. But once you're in the air - once your lips meet his - it feels incredible and a rush of adrenaline and endorphines make you feel, as if you could unhinge the whole world. For a few seconds you will loose control, due to the sudden rush of euphoria. You will drop a few feet towards earth - your teeth will clash slightly with his, making soft clicking noises. But it would only take a moment and your insticts will kick in, rising you up into the air again - correcting the angle of your head, giving him a bit space to adjust. When you land - when your lips part - you will feel a sudden, almost painful longing. You want to be up there again - kiss him again - feel the wind on your face - his lips on yours. And you won't be able to hold back and just go for it. You will push yourself of the ground - dip your head down to him - and raise your face into the wind - press your lips against his. When you manage to find a current to ride - when he starts to push back against you - the euphoria will rush back, multiplied by ten at least. You will feel it bubble in your stomach, rise to your chest and burst out without anything holding it back. The wind will carry your laughter away - his lips will suck in all the soft moans and mewling sounds, you're making - and it will be the best thing, you've ever done in your life.
Once the euphoria dies down, when you lie down in the grass, staring up into the sky - when he leans against you, sighing contently - you will quietly wonder, how you could have ever managed to live without this in your life.
Even when it becomes routine, when you rise into the air without even spending a second thought to it - when your chaste kisses turn into some kind of non-verbal communication, letting you know all the words he cannot voice, yet - it will still feel incredible and you will enjoy every second of it, subconciously finding various excuses to keep doing it some more, let it last longer.
Sometimes you will feel a bit mischievous, purposefully letting yourself drop midair - teasingly nibble at his bottom lip - flying crazy loops, or turning seconds, just before you would crash into a building - pulling away just slightly, enticing him to follow you subconciosly, until his balance is of and you just let yourself fall onto your back, pulling him with you. When you get scolded for it, you will just grin sheepishly, knowing quite well that you're in no serious trouble.
When you have to miss it for a while, not allowed to just fly around in Smallville - waiting for him to return from one of his missions - you will miss it badly. The urge to do it, the longing for the way it feels, literally driving you up the wall. And when you are finally able to do it, flying as Superboy to rush into a battle - greating him on his return, by just pushing him against a wall and kissing every possible complaint of his lips - you will do it, as if it is the last good thing you will ever do in your life. You will fly faster then nessecary, just to feel the sharp gust pressing against your face and ruffling your hair - kissing him hungrily, not even giving him time to react or space to adjust - just flying at top speed, until you have to stop instantly midair, in order to not fly to far - pressing your body against his, trapping him between yourself and the wall, until he has to turn his head away to just breath in some air into his lungs.
Yes, Connor muses, kissing him is actually a lot like flying. There's only one essential difference. He lies in his bed, looking down into those sharp, blue eyes, that he knows can easily cloud over with lust and desire, when they kiss until the eyelids will flutter close in sheer bliss. He leans down to place a soft kiss onto Tim's lips, feeling them curve into a small, genuine smile against his own.
The difference is that, if he had to, he could life without flying.