harrison starts kissing his dad on the lips. light, quick pecks. utterly familial. quick lean in and away. tiny little kiss goodbye or goodnight, not a second thought about it. some families kiss on the mouth, dexter, itâs normal. itâs normal. he never kissed harry like this but deb used to. itâs innocent. itâs fine. and then harrison starts ramping it up. and itâs kisses hello and goodbye. kisses with every thanks dad. kisses whenever dexter makes him laugh. kisses just because. and sometimes itâs twice in a row now, two little pecks, harrison going in for a second like just one isnât enough, smiling against his mouth between them. and they get longer, firmer. pecks become smooches. harrisonâs lips moving soft and slow against his for a moment that lingers just a hair too long and not long enough. and itâs nice, and dexter wantsâwhat the fuck. he wants. he starts tugging harrison in for them. hands lingering on his hips even after their mouths part so theyâre breathing close together before harrison flits away and out of his grip with a not-so-innocent smirk. and then one day before he knows it harrisonâs arms are winding around his neck and dexterâs are wrapped around his back and itâs one kiss, two, three, until dexter loses count and theyâre just holding each other and rocking gently, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, sharing breath between each tender press of their lips. and itâs still close-mouthed, stillâstill innocent, but itâs not, because neither of them wants to stop. and then harrison gasps at just the right moment for dexterâs mouth to close over his bottom lip, for him to feel the moist heat of harrisonâs mouth inside and thatâsâthatâs harrisonâs tongue, swiping just barely against his top lip and oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.