Hickey
Summary: Written to fill a kissing prompt.
Hickey Kiss: The object is not to draw blood, but to gently leave a mark that will prove your interlude was not a dream. This is often included in erotic foreplay.
Troy leaned forward and grabbed his beer from the table, freezing momentarily when he saw the quartet enter the bar. He watched her hazel eyes scan the room and stop on his. The wink made him smile which he immediately hid with a long drink. Gat's voice lost all concept of coherence for Troy though the low drone still buzzed in his head. When he sat back again, he glanced over at Johnny finally realizing the other man had stopped talking.
Gat shook his head at Troy with a raised eyebrow. "I think you need a better cover," he chided in a low rumble.
Bradshaw just glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh yeah," Gat challenged, leaning toward the other man. "I dare you not to spend half the night staring at her."
"You're out of your mind." Troy's eyes rose toward the bar.
"See?" Johnny chuckled again. "Do you really think that you're fooling anyone? Except yourself?"
Troy's eyes narrowed.
"Save the eyes, man. I'm immune."
Gat's hand shot out and brushed the high collar of the other man's shirt. Troy swatted his hand away.
"What the hell, man?"
"You've got a little something-" Johnny pointed then touched a spot on his own neck a few inches below his jaw.
"Fuck you, man." Shit. Troy tugged at his collar trying to pull it a little higher. He knew exactly what his friend was referring to-it had been a playful retaliation for a rather overzealous bite he had left on her hip. At the time, neither of them gave a thought about precisely where that hickey wound up.
"You really ought to watch that," the lieutenant said with a hearty laugh. "People will start asking questions."