You only meant to tease him.
Dick had been leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, looking unfairly good in that loose button-up he didn’t bother to button all the way. The party around you was loud, warm, bodies moving, lights low, but he was laser-focused on you as always, half-smiling like he knew you were about to cause trouble.
“You wanna see something my friends taught me?” you said, stepping into his space.
He arched a brow. “Those friends who get you in trouble or the ones who pretend they don’t?”
“Both,” you answered, grabbing the nearest cup.
Dick didn’t move, but his eyes darkened, interested, amused, hungry in a way he probably didn’t mean to show.
You raised the cup. “It’s a party trick.”
“Show me.”
You took a swig, held it on your tongue, and before he could fully register what you were doing, your hand slid up his jaw, and you kissed him.
Not cute. Not pecking. You pressed your mouth to his and tilted your head, parting his lips with yours to pass the drink.
He froze for the briefest second.
Then something in him snapped.
Dick kissed you back—hot, deep, greedy. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he opened his mouth to you fully, swallowing the drink and a soft sound you didn’t realize you made. His body was all heat and muscle and restraint barely holding.
The cup slipped from your hand. Neither of you noticed.
He angled his mouth over yours again, this time with no trick involved, just desire, slow and consuming. A little bit of the drink you hadn’t managed to pass over spilled down your chin. You felt it, cool for a second.
Dick felt it too.
He broke the kiss only far enough to follow the trail with his eyes, then leaned in and licked it from your skin; slow, intentional, tongue dragging along your jaw like he’d thought about it before and finally allowed himself to do it.
Your breath caught.
His lips returned to yours immediately after, hungrier, his hand sliding down to your waist as if he needed to hold you in place. His voice was low, rough against your mouth.
“That,” he murmured, kissing you again, “is not a party trick.”
You barely had the presence of mind to breathe. “No?”
He shook his head slightly, brushing his lips over yours like he wasn’t done tasting you. “That’s you kissing me. And you’re not getting that back.”
“Was it… too much?” you whispered.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, thumb stroking your cheek like he’d been wanting to do it for years.
“Not even close,” he said against your lips. “Do it again.”
