CS + Modern Au (first kiss) :)) pleasee
Sorry this took a while! This is set in the same little verse as this ficlet I wrote for @captainstudmuffin‘s prompt :)
Technically, this isn’t their first kiss. It’s their third or perhaps second (and a half) kiss.
But, fuck if it doesn’t feel like his first everything, his first anything.
The first time she had kissed him, it had been sparks on his tongue, burning in his skin, a rushing, heavy madness that took over his wild heart, over his frantic breath, over his restless fingers as they pulled at her sweater, seeking to meet the burning in her skin as well.
It had been colours burning into his eyes, the edges of the world painted gold as he held her in his arms, her forehead against his, shallow breaths as they waited in the aftermath, his back to the wall in his kitchen, two empty glasses and a bottle of rum on the counter.
The first time she has kissed him, it had been bright and fierce and wanting, wanting. But just as soon as it had begun, it was over. A mumbled apology and the back of her white sweater as she had walked away, her fingers lingering in his for only a moment before disappearing.
The second time she had kissed him, it had been sweet. A peck on the tip of his nose as they had sat together in a room filled with people they loved, their hearts full, their breath soft as they let themselves float in the moment. Content and safe and grateful for the other.
But the third or whatever time that she kisses him, it is different. This time, she doesn’t leave.
The sun shines bright upon the water of the lake, a soft breeze in the air as she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket, his smiling lips meeting hers, her arms around his neck. He falls into her, their knees bumping as they sit upon their little blanket in the park, one arm around her waist, the other on her shoulder, fingers wandering her skin by her collarbone, brushing against the cold metal of the necklace he’d just put around her neck.
Oh my god, how did you find it? My foster parents sold it years ago.
I’m a persistent man, love.
(A beat. Two sets of breaths held in place.)
(A deep exhale from one.)
And I’d do anything to make you smile.
His arm around her waist tightens as he pulls her closer still, her fingers tangled in his hair as their lips slow, as they sway softly in the afternoon sun. This time that she kisses him, he doesn’t burn but instead he feels himself sinking into himself. His skin, his breath, his bones begin to feel heavy and real and here. He feels every inch of the little patch of her skin that brushes against his fingers under her shirt, feels every moment of the shiver in her shoulders when it does. The earth feels as thought pulling him down, his body aware of every press of her lips against his, every muffled hum and groan that spills out from between them.
If he were a better poet, he would tell you about the sparkle of the sun against her hair, about the rustling leaves that sound like rain, about the way his heart feels like it may burst from how much he loves her.
But, right now, all he can think is kissing her feels like the truest thing he will ever do.
The first time that she kisses him, she doesn’t stop. The first time that she kisses him, he realises that he has finally come home.
