It's on his nose. There is whipped cream on Teller's nose and it is really hard not to stare at it and now he's licking the chocolate residue from his lips and...fuck. I shift my position on the couch, trying to discreetly cover my extremely obvious response to this obvious mating ritual with a throw pillow. Teller seems oblivious and merely focuses all of his attention on the mug of hot chocolate cupped in his hands, long, slim fingers intertwined as though he's clutching the heat to himself. My own cup sits forgotten on the coffee table, steam rising from it in little wisps that fade quickly into the nothingness of air.
"Your marshmallows are going to melt," Teller says, forcing me to look at him again. The whipped cream is still on his nose and for some reason my throat goes dry. He doesn't seem to notice my discomfort and merely gestures to my mug with his head. "Your marshmallows, they're going to melt and then you can't eat them in tiny sips."
I blink, trying to force my brain to just work, trying to make words come out of my mouth. But there's nothing coming, all I can do is stares at Teller's nose. He's staring back, his brow furrowed, concerned, confused, worried I'm going to attack him.
It's then that I realize I've been leaning forward very slowly, all attempts to hide my traitorous lap forgotten as the throw pillow slips to the floor. Teller just watches me. I stop a few inches from his face. I can feel his breath, smell the chocolate on it. "You've, uh," I swallow, lick my lips. His eyes track the movement and for some reason I shiver. "You've got whipped cream. On." I go to point, but I'm too close to be effective and instead I lean forward just a little more and, with a quick flick of my tongue, catch some of the whipped cream from his nose.
I'm expecting the sting of hot chocolate down my front, maybe a fist to the jaw, but instead, after a millisecond of frozen indecision and confusion, Teller tilts his head ever so slightly and catches my mouth with his.
It's my first first kiss, and it tastes like chocolates.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Chocolates; Teen (there's some naughty language :P); Dash/Mars
Date: 2015-08-28 10:18 pm (UTC)"Your marshmallows are going to melt," Teller says, forcing me to look at him again. The whipped cream is still on his nose and for some reason my throat goes dry. He doesn't seem to notice my discomfort and merely gestures to my mug with his head. "Your marshmallows, they're going to melt and then you can't eat them in tiny sips."
I blink, trying to force my brain to just work, trying to make words come out of my mouth. But there's nothing coming, all I can do is stares at Teller's nose. He's staring back, his brow furrowed, concerned, confused, worried I'm going to attack him.
It's then that I realize I've been leaning forward very slowly, all attempts to hide my traitorous lap forgotten as the throw pillow slips to the floor. Teller just watches me. I stop a few inches from his face. I can feel his breath, smell the chocolate on it. "You've, uh," I swallow, lick my lips. His eyes track the movement and for some reason I shiver. "You've got whipped cream. On." I go to point, but I'm too close to be effective and instead I lean forward just a little more and, with a quick flick of my tongue, catch some of the whipped cream from his nose.
I'm expecting the sting of hot chocolate down my front, maybe a fist to the jaw, but instead, after a millisecond of frozen indecision and confusion, Teller tilts his head ever so slightly and catches my mouth with his.
It's my first first kiss, and it tastes like chocolates.