Clayleaf - Drunk kiss
meme.
kiss kiss fall in love
*✶｡ — @cadcly love of my life ! // accepting !
He wakes with the sun in his eyes, a distinctly sour taste in his mouth that’s indicative of a too-rough night spent in his cups. Molly groans, rolls over on his stomach and sighs into his pillow, reaching blindly for the covers to pull them over himself.
Except his hand glances past a warm impediment that demands inspection, and he reaches out to grasp it proper as his eyes adjust to the mid-morning light.
A foot. A grey foot, to be exact, and when Molly looks up with a inebriate confusion, he sees the least anticipated sight of anything or anyone to be found in his bed: Caduceus.
Molly utters an inelegant curse as he scrambles to sit up as well, pulling the covers around his lap in a thoughtless bid for modesty. Caduceus seems to flinch at that, color immoderately as a berry-red blush stains his cheeks. He draws his knees to his chest protectively, his back already pressed to the headboard. He looks wellnigh like a frightened animal, and the panic that fires madly through Molly’s every nerve is eclipsed by a sweeping, unconditional regret.
He tries to replay the events of the prior night, but nothing he remembers in the split second he allows himself is clear enough, and he’s blurting out before he can stop himself, “Oh, gods, did we—?”
Caduceus shakes his head vehemently, and swallows down what might have been an attempt at explanation as he blushes deeper and winces.
Molly sighs with relief, and Caduceus looks away, determined not to look him in the eye. It’s a miserable, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach seeing Cad so visibly upset. Molly reaches to grasp his hand, but thinks better of it before he can possibly offend him. “I feel like I did something awful. I’m a cad and I know it, but I hope I didn’t … cross any lines I oughtn’t have.”
It’s a curious predicament, in which Molly is damned with the spirit of inquiry over what had transpired between them, and the mortifying guilt over it, as well.
“You kissed me,” Caduceus says quietly, reading the question in the tiefling’s expression.
Molly scrubs his hands over his face in disbelief, and a frustration like mortification. “…. I’m so sorry. I’m …”
It’s hardly outside the realm of belief that he’d have wanted to. Molly has wanted the right to kiss Caduceus since nearly the moment he’d met him, and his longstanding and long-suffering obfuscation of that fact had been his most ardent and unfailing ambition since then.
What’s outside the realm of understanding is when Caduceus tells him, “It was my first kiss ever.” Molly feels the bile rise in the back of his throat, and he hates himself for robbing him of that moment in his inebriate daring. And then: “Thank you.”
Silence is not a virtue Molly often possesses. He hates the helplessness he feels when he’s rendered speechless by Cad’s unexpected gratitude. He wants to say something gallant, something charming. Something elegant and erudite, instead of gaping like a goldfish for something—anything—to say.
But words are inutile when Caduceus pitches forward to brush his lips clumsily upon Molly’s, drawing back nearly as soon as he commits the coltish kiss. “In case you couldn’t remember just how nice I am to kiss,” Cad says so softly that it takes Molly a moment to register the quite air of mischief that lilts beneath his words.
Molly grins when he sees Caduceus wearing the softest, lopsided smile, and laughs as he pulls him down beneath the canopy of the covers, hiding them away from the sun. For it is no business of even the heavens to mark the constellations of kisses he designs upon Caduceus’ skin. Like destiny. Like divinity.
