you find a cutesy idea on social media, the “chapstick challenge”, where you try on different flavours of chapstick, and your significant other has to figure out what it tastes like by kissing
you thought it’d be a fun, sweet bonding experience, but lohen, being as diligent and as hungry as he is, takes it to another level
proposing the idea was the worst decision ever, he gladly took upon the challenge and told you he’d never miss a single guess. you two sat on the couch, lounging about, taking out the set of chapsticks from your shopping bag. there were 8 flavours in the pack that you bought in some convenience store, all artificial and ridiculously sweet. you made him turn around while you plucked the first one.
as soon as you claimed you were ready, lohen whips his head and pounces on you, grabbing your face in his hands, shutting his eyes closed as his lips crash against yours. he kisses deep, sloppy. his breaths are heavy as he tries to basically merge your lips with his. he roughly smacks, barely leaving room for you to breathe.
the longer he takes to break away, the more he tries to understand the artificial flavour. every millisecond of pulling back is his brain debating the taste, but he doesn’t part from your lips for long when he wants to decipher it fast. he tilts his head so he can kiss you better, to take all of your pillowy lips against his to fully grasp the experience, making sure he doesn’t miss a hint of the flavour.
when he thinks putting your lips together like a perfect puzzle piece isn’t enough, he tugs his teeth on your bottom lip gently, suckling spots for the flavour. his tongue darts out and carefully licks. it’s elaborate, slow, as if he’s saying sorry for bruising your lips for suffocating you in a rough kiss. but he’s really just wiping your lips clean of that chapstick to make a choice for an answer.
once he gets a good idea, he smashes his lips against yours again for a final confirmation. loud, messy smooches fill the room, his lips move against you like he wants to consume you whole. he keeps a firm, but not harmful grip on your face so he can focus, and so you won’t back away before he chooses a response.
when he’s done, a line of saliva connects your mouths together. he flutters his lashes when his lazy bedroom eyes open, gazing down at your lips. lohen’s face is barely inches away from you, feeling his slowed, warm breathing against your skin. he sighs in satisfaction softly before licking your lips free from the spit, breaking the string with a seductive grin. a thumb from one of his hands on your cheek carefully wipes away any remaining saliva, cleaning up his mess.
you’re in a daze, your lips feel fuzzy and plump, now a little lonely from not feeling him against you. you’re confused when he said a random fruit name. you don’t remember talking about a safeword..?
“the flavour is mango, am i right?”
glancing over at the single chapstick behind your back, you forgot all about the stupid challenge. and the flavour was indeed mango. you’d think it’d be obvious from a 3 second kiss. your man is too competitive. stuttering, you just give him a simple answer that he was right.
god, you realize you have 7 more rounds of this…
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
stormborns
gracieabrams
ellievsbear
