[So, never mind the pancake. He's having a hard time finding where his plate is at the moment, but he eventually does, setting down the fork so he can free his other hand. He moves it so that it's resting on the other side of Mike's face, fingers lightly tracing under the short bangs.
He figures he really didn't need to smell Mike's towel; one deep, quiet breath, and he can take in the fresh scent of the water mingled with a faint trace of the soap - and he could tell they were running low because Mike's very own smell wrapped nicely around everything else, all too present, filling Chuck's thoughts and leaving no room for fear, insecurities... or anything, really.
[He sighs in return. It means nothing, there are no words when their mouths are dedicated to create pressure and friction against each other, an extension of the pressure surrounding each others' presence. It means nothing but it transmits everything, that they're stepping onto the same stage.
Chuck's hands feel cold against his face, and that he's encased in them makes the constant thrum in his body telling him to go, to do and to set free go still. He's not going anywhere, he doesn't want to.
The hand that had been merely resting on the back of the chair had tightened its grip on it when they both pulled back and went in for another kiss - one that was so short that it could've been considered stolen if not for its softness. After that it fumbled around Chuck's shoulder before slipping underneath the strands on the back of his head, to cup his neck.]
[He takes it as an incentive - or not really, because he would have done it either way - to let one of his hands slide across the skin, tracing Mike's jaw and neck until the fingers are travelling up, burying themselves at the hair on the back of his head. They roam the scalp a few times until they settle comfortably, always brushing softly against the roots of the hairs.
Chuck never really notices when he does it, unless someone points it out. He hums, a lot, under many circumstances, but right now he hums happily, comfortably, glad to not do anything else other than pressing closer to Mike, not even working his way deeper, either into the kiss or into anything else right now.
He doesn't realize he's sitting at the edge of his chair by now, though it's slow and calm and quiet there's still always a magnet working constantly to pull him closer to Mike, stronger than gravity.]
[He smiles into the kiss, opens his eyes again, rubs his thumb along the strings of muscle stretched between the base of Chuck's skull and the beginning of his shoulder. They're in a weird position, now, Chuck barely sitting on his chair and Mike almost toppling his to the side - he's felt the surface under his weight tilt and the legs on the opposite side raise.
He had only planned to steal a small peck from him, to get him through the rest of the meal, the rest of the day. Before, he had only planned to help him out on an awkward predicament. Right then, Mike's already figuring out that whenever it comes to doing something with Chuck, his plans would fly out the window. He tends to be strangely pliant, irresistibly warm, surprisingly enthusiastic and familiarly welcoming. It makes Mike want to envelop him fully, wish for his jacket to be wide enough to circle around them both, and make Chuck do those little sounds strumming right against his skin.]
'S a good idea, too. [He barely whispers. He wants him close. Closer. If he can't hear this and needs to lean in, even better.]
[Chuck whines a little, struggling against the pull that comes when Mike moves away, but he manages, his other hand also moving to the back of Mike's neck.
He hums and sighs, taking a moment to breathe before he opens his eyes, both his hands sifting through Mike's hair, slow and thorough. He doesn't hear the question, not because Mike speaks low, but because his brain is still tacked onto the memory of the shape of Mike's lips against his own to dedicate any energy in processing the words rolling out of them.]
What? [He's leaning closer again, not caring much for an answer but waiting for one anyway, nuzzling his nose against Mike's.]
[Mike stops. The feeling of Chuck's fingers through his hair makes him drowsy. He doesn't remember anyone doing that to him before, and he decides almost instantly that he really likes it. The short strands are still damp, and he shivers.
That Chuck is so into the kiss that he refuses to let go, to move away, only makes the smile already on his lips quirk. This. This type of intimacy. It's something that had been lacking before, in their bed, or it was disguised as mere physical want and they were too into it to have realized it.] Nah, nevermind. [He straightens his back, the hand on the back of Chuck's neck sliding up to his head, along with his body to nibble at the bridge of his nose, mouth the freckles on his cheek.]
Okay... [Chuck grins, then laughs, lowering his head when Mike moves closer again, and he tries to scoot closer too--
Which is when he realizes that he's so near the edge he's about to fall off his chair. So he moves one of his hands off of Mike's hair to grab the front of his seat, tugging it forward and closer to Mike, until he can rest an arm around him, hand spread across his back.
He's blushing, he knows because he can feel the heat radiating from his own cheeks and contrasting with how cold Mike's skin seems to him right now. But he's going to ignore that, they've gone too far and done too much for Chuck to even think about hesitating or pulling away. Plus, he wouldn't want to either way. Him and Mike are just fine where they are right now.]
[It's... the first time he's kissing someone. Unless he counted what happened earlier, it's the first time he's kissing someone without the liquid pressure eating at his mind to act on instinct. He really doesn't know what he's doing, but he knows he wants to keep going.
Now that he's closer, the hand on the back of Chuck's head slides to the side enough for Mike to hook his arm around his neck. Nuzzling his hair aside, he drops a very light kiss on Chuck's forehead, between his brows, where he knows a crease forms whenever he's focused, scared, or angry. There are freckles there, too.
He nuzzles lower and presses their lips again, sighing. Chuck still tastes like chocolate pancakes, and a dash of whipped cream.] They really are cold now.
[Chuck snorts at the peck, glancing up at Mike and following when he kisses him again, closing his eyes and tilting his head without even thinking about it. He moves his other hand from Mike's hair, resting it next to his other and pulling himself closer.
In all honesty, Chuck never really kissed anyone before either, but he can't imagine it could get any better than this, or that there is anyone that could kiss better than Mike. (Or do anything else better than him.)]
Hm? [He looks up, not immediately understanding what Mike was talking about, but eyebrows arching and a giggle coming out when he makes the connection.] Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Kinda forgot about them.
[He grins, looks down for a second in something that could be a bout of bashfulness. Mike rests his forehead against Chuck's temple and nuzzles what he can reach, the arch of Chuck's cheekbone.] Me, too.
[Chuck wiggles a little, Mike's breath tickling across his skin. He nods as he speaks, a bit exaggerated but it works for emphasis.]
Oh yeah. This is gonna become a thing now. [He only hears it when he says it out loud, and he quickly tenses, feeling his blush come back full-force.] I mean, the pancakes! The pancakes are gonna be a thing now.
[And again... only after he says it out loud does he wince silently, and quickly adds before Mike can say or do anything.] Though the rest is gonna become a thing too, I-- [Ohmygod, where is a hole for me to crawl into and die right now.] I don't even know what I'm saying anymore ahahahaha... Haaah...
[With the angle he's in he can't really see Chuck's sudden current of words jumbling and running over each other in an attempt to correct each other again and again. He can't see him while he's talking but he can hear him clearly, and he pulls back...
... and sinks his teeth on Chuck's shoulder, tugs him a little closer and grinds his knuckles on his back, below his fluctuating rib, around the kidney area. Just lightly.]
Ow! [Chuck flinches and whines, a hand moving up to Mike's chest and palm patting ever so lightly, not really intending to pull him away. He leans closer too, mostly to move away from Mike's knuckles digging into his back.
Good thing is, if that was meant to shut him up... it worked?]
[He places a small kiss on the place he bit, reaching around Chuck to rub at it lightly. He finally pulls back fully to look at him in the eye, a hint of a smile on his lips.] I'd like that. This becoming a thing, I mean.
Hey. [Mike hunches a little to try and get into Chuck's line of vision. It doesn't really work, but the motion translates to the rest of the body, so it's very likely that Chuck can see him.
He tugs at his shirt, just a little, playfully enough.] Again?
[Chuck looks up, of course, as soon as he notices Mike's leaning down. He's not sure what Mike's asking him, but whatever he's asking, his answer would still probably be the same, so the relevance of that particular detail gets lost somewhere in the space in-between.
[He kisses at the skin right above Chuck's upper lip, turns his face just enough to nip at the lip. This. This was a thing, as Chuck puts it. This was something, a thing that was going to be repeated whenever they wanted. And he likes the idea, that he could be close to the origin of the scent left at the right side of Mutt, that he could listen to the little intakes of breath before each hum, that he could cause Chuck's skin to heat up.
He catches himself licking along the slope of Chuck's lower lip at the thought, and he suckles on it, reaching up to weave his fingers through his hair and pull it lightly back.]
[Chuck lets him for a while, even parts his lips a little, but when Mike licks at his lip he finds himself leaning forward and kissing him, a little crooked, a little sloppy, hands snaking back up Mike's hair with a tiny pleased noise that rolls up his throat and shakes under his skin.
It's addictive, he thinks; it feels like being addicted, at least, the way he gets a taste and then he can't let it go, he knows he'll always want more, again, different, tomorrow. And all the mornings after. (He also thinks it's a good kind of addiction; at the moment, at least, he can't think of any nefarious consequences to being hooked on Mike.)]
[ Mike takes that as a sign to keep going, to lap lazily at Chuck's lips, to curl his fingers just enough to rub his scalp, let out a sigh at the willing closeness between them.
He closes his eyes, revelling at the feeling of Chuck's hands, at the awkward tilt of his head that Mike was quick to reciprocate and make them fit. This is something he'd like to dedicate a lot of time. To tessellate them in different places and draw their outlines with his breath. ]
[Chuck's tongue darts to meet Mike's, because that's how it worked, the both of them moved forward until they crashed and collided against each other, thumbs pressing against skin and teeth clashing together. Chuck's own teeth move and drag across Mike's lips, his mouth opening more in order to do so.
If before he was glancing over to where the voices came from, right now Chuck couldn't care less, can't even remember caring in the first place, if someone came barging in - he would, in the sense that they'd probably have to stop, and of course afterwards he'd literally bury his face in his hands and probably try to crawl into one of the cupboards just for good measure, but... the point is that thought is the farthest from his mind right now, replaced with a taste of honey syrup, a smell of dampness and an incessant mantra of Mike's name.]
[Capturing Chuck's tongue between his lips, he pulls back ever so lightly, eyes heavy-lidded but tranquilly so. In turn he moves in to rake his teeth on his lips back at Chuck, then tugging very lightly on one. Exploring every little sensation he can cause on Chuck and enjoying the shade falling on his cheek caused by the angle of their heads together.]
[There's always small noises, tiny hums or sighs with everything Mike does, whether it's an instinct reaction or if he just remembered something completely irrelevant at the moment though it still draws a pleased sound out of him.
Chuck slides a hand across, hooks his arm on Mike's neck, and plants smaller kisses over Mike's lips, nibbling and sucking at the skin every so often.]
[There was a strain on his back with the angle of his body, digging at the muscles under his ribs. Of course, to relax them he would have to move away from Chuck, to stop kissing him, to draw back from the sounds transmitted directly into his lips and the dampness of his breath.
So if he couldn't draw back, then he'd move in. He reaches down, moves his chair until it's against Chuck's, legs on each side of it. Scoots closer, tighter, that arm going around Chuck's torso with the only intent to push him against him, turning into him fully. He relaxes, body wound just enough to make sure Chuck stays in that proximity. His lips are moving on his own accord now, parting and closing around Chuck's, eyes closed in complete deliverance and his hands moving ever so lightly along his side, back and neck.]
[The position is a little strange now, Chuck realizes, and with his legs to the side and the closeness between them he can tell he's practically sitting on top of Mike. But saying that being this close feels nice would be putting it very lightly, and if the alternative is not being close at all, even if they're still in the living area of the garage and should probably take care of what they do in a place where any of the guys could just walk right in, then Chuck's not really going to do anything else other than scoot closer with a contented sigh, hands moving down, one to Mike's neck and the other down his back.]
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He figures he really didn't need to smell Mike's towel; one deep, quiet breath, and he can take in the fresh scent of the water mingled with a faint trace of the soap - and he could tell they were running low because Mike's very own smell wrapped nicely around everything else, all too present, filling Chuck's thoughts and leaving no room for fear, insecurities... or anything, really.
He sighs; never mind everything.]
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Chuck's hands feel cold against his face, and that he's encased in them makes the constant thrum in his body telling him to go, to do and to set free go still. He's not going anywhere, he doesn't want to.
The hand that had been merely resting on the back of the chair had tightened its grip on it when they both pulled back and went in for another kiss - one that was so short that it could've been considered stolen if not for its softness. After that it fumbled around Chuck's shoulder before slipping underneath the strands on the back of his head, to cup his neck.]
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Chuck never really notices when he does it, unless someone points it out. He hums, a lot, under many circumstances, but right now he hums happily, comfortably, glad to not do anything else other than pressing closer to Mike, not even working his way deeper, either into the kiss or into anything else right now.
He doesn't realize he's sitting at the edge of his chair by now, though it's slow and calm and quiet there's still always a magnet working constantly to pull him closer to Mike, stronger than gravity.]
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He had only planned to steal a small peck from him, to get him through the rest of the meal, the rest of the day. Before, he had only planned to help him out on an awkward predicament. Right then, Mike's already figuring out that whenever it comes to doing something with Chuck, his plans would fly out the window. He tends to be strangely pliant, irresistibly warm, surprisingly enthusiastic and familiarly welcoming. It makes Mike want to envelop him fully, wish for his jacket to be wide enough to circle around them both, and make Chuck do those little sounds strumming right against his skin.]
'S a good idea, too. [He barely whispers. He wants him close. Closer. If he can't hear this and needs to lean in, even better.]
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He hums and sighs, taking a moment to breathe before he opens his eyes, both his hands sifting through Mike's hair, slow and thorough. He doesn't hear the question, not because Mike speaks low, but because his brain is still tacked onto the memory of the shape of Mike's lips against his own to dedicate any energy in processing the words rolling out of them.]
What? [He's leaning closer again, not caring much for an answer but waiting for one anyway, nuzzling his nose against Mike's.]
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That Chuck is so into the kiss that he refuses to let go, to move away, only makes the smile already on his lips quirk. This. This type of intimacy. It's something that had been lacking before, in their bed, or it was disguised as mere physical want and they were too into it to have realized it.] Nah, nevermind. [He straightens his back, the hand on the back of Chuck's neck sliding up to his head, along with his body to nibble at the bridge of his nose, mouth the freckles on his cheek.]
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Which is when he realizes that he's so near the edge he's about to fall off his chair. So he moves one of his hands off of Mike's hair to grab the front of his seat, tugging it forward and closer to Mike, until he can rest an arm around him, hand spread across his back.
He's blushing, he knows because he can feel the heat radiating from his own cheeks and contrasting with how cold Mike's skin seems to him right now. But he's going to ignore that, they've gone too far and done too much for Chuck to even think about hesitating or pulling away. Plus, he wouldn't want to either way. Him and Mike are just fine where they are right now.]
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Now that he's closer, the hand on the back of Chuck's head slides to the side enough for Mike to hook his arm around his neck. Nuzzling his hair aside, he drops a very light kiss on Chuck's forehead, between his brows, where he knows a crease forms whenever he's focused, scared, or angry. There are freckles there, too.
He nuzzles lower and presses their lips again, sighing. Chuck still tastes like chocolate pancakes, and a dash of whipped cream.] They really are cold now.
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In all honesty, Chuck never really kissed anyone before either, but he can't imagine it could get any better than this, or that there is anyone that could kiss better than Mike. (Or do anything else better than him.)]
Hm? [He looks up, not immediately understanding what Mike was talking about, but eyebrows arching and a giggle coming out when he makes the connection.] Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Kinda forgot about them.
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No worries, we can always make some more again.
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Oh yeah. This is gonna become a thing now. [He only hears it when he says it out loud, and he quickly tenses, feeling his blush come back full-force.] I mean, the pancakes! The pancakes are gonna be a thing now.
[And again... only after he says it out loud does he wince silently, and quickly adds before Mike can say or do anything.] Though the rest is gonna become a thing too, I-- [Ohmygod, where is a hole for me to crawl into and die right now.] I don't even know what I'm saying anymore ahahahaha... Haaah...
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... and sinks his teeth on Chuck's shoulder, tugs him a little closer and grinds his knuckles on his back, below his fluctuating rib, around the kidney area. Just lightly.]
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Good thing is, if that was meant to shut him up... it worked?]
Mikey, that hurt! Why would you do that?!
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He tugs at his shirt, just a little, playfully enough.] Again?
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He flashes his teeth a little, and nods.]
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He catches himself licking along the slope of Chuck's lower lip at the thought, and he suckles on it, reaching up to weave his fingers through his hair and pull it lightly back.]
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It's addictive, he thinks; it feels like being addicted, at least, the way he gets a taste and then he can't let it go, he knows he'll always want more, again, different, tomorrow. And all the mornings after. (He also thinks it's a good kind of addiction; at the moment, at least, he can't think of any nefarious consequences to being hooked on Mike.)]
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He closes his eyes, revelling at the feeling of Chuck's hands, at the awkward tilt of his head that Mike was quick to reciprocate and make them fit. This is something he'd like to dedicate a lot of time. To tessellate them in different places and draw their outlines with his breath. ]
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If before he was glancing over to where the voices came from, right now Chuck couldn't care less, can't even remember caring in the first place, if someone came barging in - he would, in the sense that they'd probably have to stop, and of course afterwards he'd literally bury his face in his hands and probably try to crawl into one of the cupboards just for good measure, but... the point is that thought is the farthest from his mind right now, replaced with a taste of honey syrup, a smell of dampness and an incessant mantra of Mike's name.]
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Chuck slides a hand across, hooks his arm on Mike's neck, and plants smaller kisses over Mike's lips, nibbling and sucking at the skin every so often.]
heheheheheheheheheheheheh
So if he couldn't draw back, then he'd move in. He reaches down, moves his chair until it's against Chuck's, legs on each side of it. Scoots closer, tighter, that arm going around Chuck's torso with the only intent to push him against him, turning into him fully. He relaxes, body wound just enough to make sure Chuck stays in that proximity. His lips are moving on his own accord now, parting and closing around Chuck's, eyes closed in complete deliverance and his hands moving ever so lightly along his side, back and neck.]
goddamnit.
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH
GO TO YOUR ROOM
NNNNO
BAD PUPPY
WROOF
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I'm laughing like a lunatic
yes perfect
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I literally just squeaked
Pretty sure it didn't sound worse than me when I read that tag
I wouldn't be so sure
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