❣️ (Kiss to a specific spot: over the heart) for Xeri?
Kiss to a specific spot (over the heart) ft. Xeri
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Xeri always tends to find the most interesting places to sit in, and in very strange positions. It’s no different today. They’re on the couch, but their feet are over the back and their head over the front, dreads brushing the ground despite their short stature.
To top it off, they’re reading a book. The fact that you can read the title clues you in to it being upside for them. As they flip a page, you hold up a finger.
“Upside down and backwards?”
“Only way to engage enough of my thought process to prevent myself from feeling anxiety while I wait for you,” they respond idly.
“TV not enough, huh?” You strip off your coat and shoes, leaving your gun and badge on the counter for the moment.
“Raises too many question about the strangeness of human behavior. Plus, far too many characters interested in others for their physical beauty with an end-goal of sex. Repetitive, boring.” Xeri lowers--or is it raises for them?--the book to the floor, and rolls over so they’re on their stomach.
“So no binging Webflix with you then?” you ask, folding yourself onto the floor in front of the couch.
“Different scenario, different outcome,” Xeri responds, stretching their arms out and tugging on your ears. They find them fascinating, their own form of aural intake more similar to that of an earth snake.
“Oh? And what’s the difference there?” you ask, brushing some of their dreadlocks out of their face.
“An answer you already know, yet demand to hear anyways. It’s an obvious answer. You.”
You grin. Xeri lets go of your ears and rolls over again. “Sentiment is strange.You know the truth, yet you would rather hear it from my lips than merely accept that you know the answer and move on.”
“Sentiment is strange,” you agree, running your hands through their hair, noticing that they’ve added more ornaments to it. “But you said it yourself. Being around you makes everything different, makes it better.”
Xeri pulls away, twisting and contorting until they’re sitting in an upright position. You rise up onto your knees. “My heart is yours, and I’d like to think yours is mine,” you murmur, kissing the spot over their heart through the black tunic they have on.
Color stains Xeri’s cheeks, and they scoff. “You are aware Reapers do not have hearts, yes?”
Rolling your eyes, you clamber onto the couch, Xeri promptly claiming your lap, tucking themselves into your body. “Metaphorically, then.”
“Acceptable.” Xeri turns their head, kissing over your own heart, the touch of their lips feeling like a spear of ice followed by a shock of heat. “Your heart will just have to beat twice as hard for the both of us.”