FIVE TIMES KISSED FROM SPENCER.
the first time is nothing special. just a means to an end. he’s got yurik pressed up against the bookcase in the store he’d stumbled in, trying to get away from two shady blokes following him, meaning him harm and there’s almost no depth to the kiss.
just his mouth resting against the other’s, moving slowly and carefully. he’s probably lucky his pursuers move on so quickly, before yurik got his wits about him again and kneed him in the balls.
as it is, he only ends up with a book falling on top of his head for his trouble and a favor owed.
the second time is when they’re getting married. it’s a sham, of course and connor is still sufficiently pissed off for not having been told ( and yurik’s grin had been bloody massive, the man feeling so damn smug about having been able to fool him ) that connor doesn’t hold back in biting down harshly on that full bottom lip when it’s time for them to kiss and seal the deal.
there’s a flare of lust when yurik bites back, dips his tongue in, leaves a frisson of electric static rolling down his spine even after yurik pulls back with slightly narrowed, calculating eyes.
his grin is, if possible, even wider.
( two days later, they both save each other’s lives and it changes the partnership from business acquaintances to possible friends. )
( two months later and they still haven’t annuled the marriage. connor doesn’t dwell on what that means. )
the third kiss is fuelled with want an adrenaline, underlined with a challenge. there’s a dead body, neck lying at an odd angle, not two paces away and connor can taste blood from the cut in yurik’s bottom lip from where he’d punched the man before, yet all of that only serves to spur him on more.
he’s sitting on the man’s lap, grinding down, fingers tugging yurik’s head back by the hair so he can delve in deeper, mind fogged up slightly with the thrill of the kill and the taste and feel of the other man. he doesn’t stop when he cuts yurik’s bonds keeping him tied to that chair, doesn’t stop when they fall to the floor in their franticness to touch skin and connor’s nestled on top of yurik, knees bracketing his hips.
he only stops once he gets his fingers wrapped around yurik’s cock, yurik’s hand on top of his to show him how the other man likes it, so he can sit back and watch how all those masks get stripped away with each twist of his fingers, watch how those dark eyes focus on him with a combination of lust and anger once he gets his other hand wrapped around the column of his throat and starts squeezing.
and by god, he might not feel sexual attraction, but when it’s all over and yurik’s panting beneath him with his release dotting the lean lines of his stomach and chest, hair in a sweaty dissaray and the first hint of bruising showing around his throat, connor can admit it’s quite possibly the most erotic thing he’s ever witnessed.
the fourth time is the first time there’s actual tenderness behind it. yurik ( though it’s elijah now ) is looking at him, eyes wide, wet and unfocused. there’s a soft slur to his tone when he tries to talk, a tightness in his voice that makes connor’s stomach clench for reasons he’s not willing to look into. elijah’s hands are bound, and his flat is a ravaged chaos.
he won’t ever be able to see his little girl again. talk to her again.
elijah tries to say something, probably an apology for the way he’s smashed most everything in connor’s flat. it’s not exactly a conscious decision to lean forward and prevent him from doing so by pressing their lips together.
it’s soft and slow and meant as a comfort more than anything else; and when he feels elijah’s arm winding around his waist, fingers touching his cheek and the man returns the kiss, connor realises for the first time this might be much more than simple friendship with added benefits.
it scares him more than anything else ever has.
the fifth kiss is acceptance. a lot has happened since the last one, and connor now sees that his fear had been foolish. that there’s nothing to fear. his mind isn’t what it used to be, he loses his patience much quicker, retreats into himself or gets angry, breaks everything in his proximity or tries to drink himself into a stupor to quieten the voices; he forgets and can’t concentrate and he hates himself, yet elijah is still by his side.
every touch, every look, every soft word spoken just reiterate what connor knew all along. more than friendship, more than even affection or infatuation, it’s———
connor leanes in and kisses spencer softly. it’s a barely there touch, nothing compared to those other kisses, yet it means more than they ever had. his blue eyes are clear for the first time in a while when he pulls back, features twisted up in an expression he never knew he could show anyone, and from his lips drop words he never thought he’d ever say.
and it’s as simple as that.
annaxmalina
dededos
stormborns
