[ koby’s lips are as soft as he’d envisioned them to be. he feels a little guilty kissing him with a split lip, with iron and dust and fury on the back of his tongue. after all, isn’t that why he competed? ribbed and jabbed until one comment too far sent him over the precipice. he’d had a lot to work out. still does.
but he doesn’t have to think about any of that here, his fingers curling against koby’s cheek, thumb skirting the soft line of his cheekbone, the whole of his broad, callused palm sliding to his neck so that his fingers can curve against some of the curled wisps of pink at the back of his neck. it’s easier when koby rises up to meet the kiss, hungry and wanting, quentin humming against their joined mouths, licking once across the dents of his lip and then in to taste the sunlight on his very tongue.
but koby pulls back, gasping and quentin wonders if the dream of the seas took him too far. if kissing the fair haired man at his feet had been the wrong decision. it certainly doesn’t taste like the wrong choice and his eyes open when koby starts rattling on, apology after panicked noise. he smiles, lips tugging to one side, and he almost looks sheepish. had it seemed like he felt compelled? like he felt as though he had to kiss him?
maybe it’s just in his bones, the playacting he’s been made to do for the better part of a year. a ghost living in his bones. koby looks too sweet like this - red faced and mussed, flustered and raised up on his knees. ]
Mm. Are you apologizing that I kissed you? [ he laughs a little, bright and sudden, the sound genuine and from the chest. he uses the hand at koby’s neck to tug him forward, to urge him back up to his feet so he doesn’t have to lean on an injured side. ]
I’m only giving you what I also wish to take. Though I’ll say it would be much easier if you would get to your feet and maybe then I can kiss you properly. If you wish to receive it. If you wish to take it. But I’m not a man to press where I’m not wanted, I assure you.
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but he doesn’t have to think about any of that here, his fingers curling against koby’s cheek, thumb skirting the soft line of his cheekbone, the whole of his broad, callused palm sliding to his neck so that his fingers can curve against some of the curled wisps of pink at the back of his neck. it’s easier when koby rises up to meet the kiss, hungry and wanting, quentin humming against their joined mouths, licking once across the dents of his lip and then in to taste the sunlight on his very tongue.
but koby pulls back, gasping and quentin wonders if the dream of the seas took him too far. if kissing the fair haired man at his feet had been the wrong decision. it certainly doesn’t taste like the wrong choice and his eyes open when koby starts rattling on, apology after panicked noise. he smiles, lips tugging to one side, and he almost looks sheepish. had it seemed like he felt compelled? like he felt as though he had to kiss him?
maybe it’s just in his bones, the playacting he’s been made to do for the better part of a year. a ghost living in his bones. koby looks too sweet like this - red faced and mussed, flustered and raised up on his knees. ]
Mm. Are you apologizing that I kissed you? [ he laughs a little, bright and sudden, the sound genuine and from the chest. he uses the hand at koby’s neck to tug him forward, to urge him back up to his feet so he doesn’t have to lean on an injured side. ]
I’m only giving you what I also wish to take. Though I’ll say it would be much easier if you would get to your feet and maybe then I can kiss you properly. If you wish to receive it. If you wish to take it. But I’m not a man to press where I’m not wanted, I assure you.