Types of kisses prompt number 20 or 25, for whatever pairing inspires you most💕
25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain
Alex has just worked his way between Michael’s thighs, pressing him gently into the pile of sleeping bags and blankets padding the hard metal of the bed of Michael’s truck, when he feels the first drops. He ignores them, too lost in the taste of Michael’s mouth and the soft, needy noises he makes as their hips rock together to care.
And then the sky opens up.
“Shit, shit,” Michael gasps, pushing Alex off of him as raindrops begin to soak into their clothes and the bedding beneath them.
Alex climbs off of him immediately and watches as Michael reaches for the tarp folded up at the other corner of the truck bed. He starts unfolding it as he stands up and jumps off the edge of the tailgate. Alex follows suit, hopping out of the truck as fast as he can.
“Quick, help me,“ Michael says, holding out one edge of the tarp to him.
Together, they secure the tarp over the bed of Michael’s truck, saving his bedding from the worst of it. By the time they make it into the cab of the truck, they’re both soaked to the bone and shivering, the only sound to be heard their labored breathing and the rain pelting against the roof of Michael’s truck.
As Michael gets the heat going on full blast, Alex flips down the sun visor to check his reflection in the mirror. His hair is a disaster, but at least his make up still looks good. He’ll have to thank Liz for the tip on waterproof mascara.
He’s running his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it when he hears Michael start to laugh beside him.
“What?” he huffs, glancing at him sideways to see a fond grin on Michael’s face.
“You shouldn’t bother with that,” Michael says, leaning into Alex’s space and making his heart jump in his chest. His own curls are weighed down by the water slowly dripping from them and Alex follows the trail of a droplet down the side of his neck hungrily, itching for a taste. “I’m just gonna mess it up again.”
“Is that s—” Alex starts to ask, but Michael’s lips interrupt him, warm and still wet from the rain.
Alex sighs against Michael’s mouth and gives up on his hair in favor of pulling Michael closer, his fingers slipping against the smooth skin of his neck. True to his word, Michael threads his fingers through Alex’s hair as he kisses him, his grip tightening when Alex flicks his tongue against his bottom lip, but careful not to tug.
There’s something intoxicating about kissing Michael with the smell of rain thick in the air, familiar and yet more in a way he can’t explain, and as Michael continues to steal his breath with needy kisses as he climbs into his lap and presses him into the vinyl bench beneath them, Alex decides not to question it.
