Lance / Nick

[ephemera-pop.livejournal.com]

Lance and Nick, focussing on the sense of taste, please and thank you.

Comments

[epicflailer.livejournal.com]

it's not exactly focused, but i hope it'll do.


You wake up to the taste of Nick's mouth, soft against your own. "Morning," he murmurs, as you sit up, stretching.

"It's four in the afternoon," you tell him, glancing down at your watch. You're both wearing identical half smiles, though, and when he leans down again, you reach up to meet him halfway.

Nick's less gentle now, and when you open your mouth to his, he tastes warm, and wet, and salty, a mixture of seawater and something distinctly Nick.

"You went to the beach?" you ask, when you pull away the next time, as Nick presses soft kisses against the side of your neck.

"Mmm," he replies, and you shudder as he nips your collarbone. "I was gonna ask you along, but you were sound asleep."

"Thanks a lot, jackass," you murmur, smacking his ass. The first thing you'd told him when you'd finally decided to move in together was to make sure you never fell asleep in the middle of FreeLance paperwork. The second was that if you do, he's supposed to wake you up. Immediately.

In no world, you reason, does three hours constitute immediately.

Nick grins unrepentantly against your skin.

"You taste like peppermint," he tells you, and even though that's not exactly an apology, you let it slide. It is Nick, after all.

Two seconds later, you're rethinking that easily given forgiveness. "Nick," you say, your voice bordering too-calm, a sign that you know he knows means 'danger' in bright glowing letters. "What is that?"

"Chocolate sauce?" he offers. His fingers are soft against your stomach.

"I can see that," you reply, "but--oh. Oh."

Nick grins up at you as he licks your torso a third time. Damn incoherency, you think, but your mouth is too dry to voice it. To cap it off, Nick leans over and crushes his mouth to yours.

You close your eyes. Nick is sweet and warm, and you think that this is what sunshine would taste like, honey-saccharine and the slightest tang of mint. The barest hint of salty-seawater comes almost as an afterthought, as Nick licks the roof of your mouth, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing Chris was never like this, you reflect, when Nick draws back to rest his forehead gently against yours.

It was hard, and quick (and sometimes painful, because Chris never seemed to be able to decide what to do with his teeth), and coffee-laced, which was never something you particularly looked forward to, because Chris always drank his two cups of coffee black. Sometimes you'd walk around with that bitter taste in your mouth the entire day.

"Hey, you okay?"

You blink. Nick's almost laughing, his blue, blue eyes looking straight into your own, his palm soft on your cheek.

You smile as you lean forward, and you know he tastes your answer on your lips.