local guy has Activated the discord chat over arospec scarian musings
massive shout out to my classic enablers and contributors to this conversation: @bookworm-2692 , @cocoabats , @iiiacs , and @good-chimes >:]
also predictably, your honor, i have written the arospec kisses
It's an automatic, ingrained reaction; when Grian is unsure of himself, he freezes. Scar's mouth is inches away from his, and suddenly this game isn't as much of a game anymore— suddenly it's real. He's not sure what to do with real. He's never had real before, and his shoulders stiffen before he can try and force them to relax.
Scar pauses.
He's only the ghost of a breath away, but he pauses, eyes glittering oddly in the evening light of his workshop. Molten honey spills from a window behind him, gilding tools and blueprints and the edge of Scar's cheek with equal delight. Whatever expression dancing over his face is hidden partially by shadow, and the rest concealed by Grian's blurred, half-lidded eyesight.
Slowly, Scar draws back. He doesn't go far, but Grian's gut still clenches with the motion. He's not sure what he wants, what's expected of him here— Mumbo would've never come this close. Wouldn't have even thought about it. He's drowning on open air, watching Scar watch him; cheeks buzzing and burning with the weight of his fluster.
"Okay," Scar murmurs after a studious beat, eyes flicking over him. "Okay, I think I get it. You just stay right where you are and tell me if it's not working for you, alright?"
It's like his words have sucked all the air from the room. Grian nods— mute, breathless— then forces his shoulders to unwind, inching them from their protective hunch. "Um— mhm. Yep. Can do. Sure."
An amused glimmer blooms in Scar's eyes. "So here's what we're gonna do," he murmurs, and— oh. His voice has dropped a register, coiling between them like the curl of woodsmoke. Oaken, teasing, the sort of molasses rise and fall that always spreads embers through Grian's chest. Scar follows it with his hands, easing one along the line of Grian's jaw, and the other enfolding his own fingers. They're warm, calloused, seeping into his skin to ignite his nerves. It's less— strange, being held like this. Safer.
Encompassing.
Scar makes a noise of approval in the back of his throat, then inches forward again, one thumb sweeping along the back of Grian's hand. Breath ghosting over Grian's lips, featherlight and intimate; after another heartbeat, Scar closes that last millimeter, and presses their lips together.
A static shock bolts up Grian's spine in response. Scar's lips are as warm as the rest of him, stoking his flush until it crawls all the way down to his neck. His eyes have closed; after a beat, Grian flutters his own lashes shut, following Scar's lead.
And what a lead it is. Scar's mouth slides over his own, slow and meticulous in a way that scatters sparks in the pit of Grian's stomach. He jolts with them, a hiccup of suppressed movement, before tentatively attempting to copy; he struggles with the rhythm of it, until Scar nuzzles him closer, lifts his other hand to frame his face and take control of the situation. Like this, he's fully surrounded— Scar is everywhere, those points of contact burning like stars in mist, and Grian's head swims as he's coaxed into a soft, languid meter. Nothing but the leisurely slide of lips over his own, the light capture of his cupid's bow and lower lip in turn, and the curl of Scar's fingers in his hair. Nothing but them and that impossible, blossoming thing between them, unfolding its petals to glow in the sultry afternoon.
Scar pulls back far too soon. His lips are red and wet, and Grian gazes at them mindlessly with lidded eyes. Every inch of him is humming. "That okay?" Scar whispers into the gap between them.
Grian answers him by swaying forward, chasing that distance and closing it with a clumsy kiss of his own. This time he remembers his hands— he's not sure where to put them, so he settles on Scar's shoulders, digging into his biceps as he tries to catch Scar's bottom lip between his own. Scar lets out a startled, distinctly pleased noise; two hands settle on his waist, pulling him closer, and Grian's breath leaves him in an unhurried sigh.
