“You guys wanna see something cool?”
Rafayel speaks languidly, his speech slightly slurred. He’s on his fourth cocktail, and it’s starting to show in how he moves. He plucks a maraschino cherry from one of his empty glasses on the table and pops it into his mouth without waiting for you or Sylus to respond. He chews it quickly, keeping the stem in between his thumb and index finger. He then swallows, then places the stem onto his tongue with a dramatic flair. You watch silently over the rim of your own cocktail glass, and your eyes momentarily flick over to the other end of the circular couch, glancing at Sylus. He too is watching Rafayel with an aloof curiosity, one hand swirling his small glass of whisky, the other draped over the back of the couch.
Soft, moody jazz plays throughout the bar – combined with the dim lighting and the number of cocktails you’ve knocked back, it makes your body feel light and your eyelids feel heavy. But the way Rafayel contorts his mouth and lips and the glint of concentration in his eyes makes you sit up straighter in your seat. What is he doing? It takes him almost half a minute – he smirks, then opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. On the end of it is the cherry stem, tied into a knot. You whistle, impressed, and slightly turned on.
“Nice trick,” Sylus chuckles, then takes a sip from his glass.
He then places it on the table, and reaches past Rafayel, and over to you. You raise an eyebrow at him as he reaches into the glass you’re holding. It’s almost empty, save maybe for another sip of your drink, and your own maraschino cherry. He winks at you, then uses two fingers to skilfully fish it out of your glass. You allow him to take it, then lean back into the couch, waiting to see what he does with it.
“Let’s try and make it a little more complicated,” Sylus drawls.
He bites the cherry off the stem, then chews it before swallowing slowly. He then does the same as what Rafayel did before – he places the stem onto his tongue, then brings it into his mouth. You aren’t able to anticipate what he does next.
He draws back, then leans towards Rafayel, taking Rafayel’s chin in his hand. Rafayel blinks, a little surprised by Sylus’s sudden touch, but stays where he is. Sylus tilts his head and brings his lips to Rafayel’s, and Rafayel freezes momentarily, before returning the kiss, his eyes closing as he melts into it. You watch as Sylus pries Rafayel’s lips open with his tongue, and you see him pass the cherry stem into Rafayel’s mouth. You lean forward, your own mouth hanging open as you watch them, transfixed. You watch as their tongues writhe against each other, the sound of their lips smacking reaching your ears. Sylus’s eyelids are half-open, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a slight smirk as he plays with Rafayel’s tongue. His hand is still holding Rafayel’s chin, trying to keep his head steady. Rafayel is breathing heavily, battling to keep his eyes open, and concentrate on his objective – to tie the stem with his tongue while Sylus’s one is inside his mouth.
You don’t know how long this goes for – you feel like you can watch them go at it for an eternity. You have to cross your legs tightly, and ignore the fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, Rafayel breaks away, panting, but looking triumphant. He smiles, and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand before sticking his tongue out, revealing another tied cherry stem.
Sylus sits back into his spot with a sigh, looking pleased with himself. He picks up his glass again, then takes another swig of his drink.
“Impressive,” he murmurs. He motions to the other empty glasses on the table, with more cherries in them. “We have a few more cherries to go through. How about we all take turns practicing?”