no one ;nothing has ever touched him like this . robin’s lips meet the pulse at his wrist like a hummingbird’s landing , butterfly wings , a delicate thing harboring the sort of squire-like manner and deep , noble reverence that was much better off demonstrated to a king , or a fair maiden . the sort that would blush and tug away , fair-skinned , flax-haired , giddy with seduction and not a sobering guilt — ( not enough . not enough . ) the difference between daydream and reality strips yan qing of his frivolousness ; makes him ignite greedy to take all that robin had to give . even if the assassin didn’t deserve it he would plunder it all anyways , seizing whatever private sentiments the archer had reserved for him . bare , bewilderingly still-loved , one gentle kiss wasn’t enough when he felt like this , and so he seizes the archer’s head with both hands to bring them closer , closer until they touch lips . gingerly , tenderly , yan qing starts to kiss robin in the way that he hopes no one ; nothing ever did . with his own mannerless worship , his wild impulse — the lick of wolves , rough fingers running through the other’s hair , wanting and having and giving . the archer always has had a better sense of responsibility and restraint than him , but he lights a match and drowns them in passion like oil ; sets the quiet shelters and shy forests of robin’s soul on fire . he pulls back only once he’s had his fill , and the color of robin’s cheeks burned a deeper hue than his own hair . off you go now . ‘ … you’ll still wait for me , won’t you ? ‘ he asks it innocently , as if he hadn’t left his mark on the other . stolen their breath , set chaos to their heart , sabotaged a smooth and carefully calculated move with his own reckless charge , lips still warm , whim still hot . what he could not take with , he would memorize , his eyes enormous and begging , robin in each dark pupil’s center , a focus mottled and surrounded by iris stars . be his reason to hurry back . to preserve his pulse , so that it might be butterfly kissed again , so that the blood that flowed through his veins could alight and burn the forest once more . leave them to nothing but themselves , not only known but understood at the end of it all ; beloved . when he holds robin’s cheeks , soft and baking in the callouses of tough palms , he smiles softly , then grins wide , unabashed .
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