[He chews and his eyebrows arch, visible because his hair is still damp, nodding and humming at the flavor. It really was good. Still turned towards Chuck's side, he grins, makes sure it's another chocolate-y smile.]
[Chuck's just chewing on the corner of pancake he stole from Mike's plate when he looks at him. He almost chokes when he starts laughing, but manages to swallow it down with the help of some juice.
He swats a hand at Mike's chest, clearing his throat.] ... you shouldn't play with your food, Mikey.
[Mike chuckles, curls a little, catching the hand hitting at his chest out of reflex more than anything else, to make it stop. He swallows the pancake fully and closes his mouth to run his tongue along the surface of his teeth, but he ends up grinning openly halfway.] H-hey, no harm every now and then!
[Chuck doesn't really pull away, because it's Mike and instead he's curling his fingers a little too, still laughing at the poor work Mike's making of cleaning the chocolate off his teeth.]
[It's only his subconscious working because he's moving his free hand to cover the deeper guffaw slipping from his lips, and he tries it again. The chocolate toping was stickier than if they melted actual chocolate, but good real chocolate was harder to find in the first place. Such are the sacrifices one has to make.
He straightens his back, smiles and shows his teeth to Chuck.] How'bout now?
[His smile turns into something more genuine, into fondness and the laziness of a good morning narrowing his eyes. He watches Chuck's fingers sliding behind the curve of his ear, and the whole thing wraps around his neck and pulls tight, making him swallow the strain down.]
[Chuck's shoulders slump and he settles into a small smile, thumb rubbing lightly against Mike's palm. He likes the quiet, even if said quiet is thrumming loudly against his ears.
(Also he kinda forgot about the half pancake still on his plate.)]
Most of them are, Chuckles. [He glances to their hands, watching the brush of Chuck's thumb on his palm and feeling a rush coming from his wrist to the top of his spine.
[The growl snaps Chuck out of it (whatever 'it' was), and he lets go of Mike's hand with a laugh, hands flailing a little as he turns back to his plate.]
[He leans in, arm lifting to rest his hand on the back of Chuck's chair, tilting his head just enough to press his lips to his. That he still had pancake in his mouth was not part of the plan, but hey. The pancakes are delicious.]
[Even if Mike's moves come to him in slow motion, it still catches him by surprise when their lips touch, and he freezes in place, inhaling sharply and... well, kind of forgetting to exhale.
He pulls away after a moment or two, so he can breathe, swallow the piece of pancake in his mouth and briefly glance over to the kitchen door, and then he leans himself, returning to the kiss with closed eyes, parted lips and a hand over Mike's cheek.]
[His eyes don't open when Chuck retreats - they were already open in the first place - but they widen at the motion, thinking that perhaps, out of the certainty he had been holding since he left the room, he was straying into unwanted grounds.
He listens to Chuck's breath and the motion of his throat constricting to swallow as if he were trying to figure out a loose piece rattling inside an engine. He watches his eyes darting towards the door. It's okay, Chuck, I heard them heading to the garage, he wants to say, but he's cut off way before he could breathe in to utter a word.
He relaxes at the touch, at the press of Chuck's lips fitting against his own, moves them to nibble lightly at the remainder of chocolate there, finally closing his eyes.]
[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.
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He swats a hand at Mike's chest, clearing his throat.] ... you shouldn't play with your food, Mikey.
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Gross, dude. You still got chocolate everywhere!
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He straightens his back, smiles and shows his teeth to Chuck.] How'bout now?
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Yeah, you got it now.
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This was a good idea.
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(Also he kinda forgot about the half pancake still on his plate.)]
Well, it was my idea, so... it was a great idea.
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His stomach growls.] --oh.
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We better finish before the pancakes get cold.
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with the feeling they already are cold.]
Hey, Chuck?
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At the mention of his name, he glances at Mike while chewing on a piece of the pancake.]
Hm?
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He pulls away after a moment or two, so he can breathe, swallow the piece of pancake in his mouth and briefly glance over to the kitchen door, and then he leans himself, returning to the kiss with closed eyes, parted lips and a hand over Mike's cheek.]
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He listens to Chuck's breath and the motion of his throat constricting to swallow as if he were trying to figure out a loose piece rattling inside an engine. He watches his eyes darting towards the door. It's okay, Chuck, I heard them heading to the garage, he wants to say, but he's cut off way before he could breathe in to utter a word.
He relaxes at the touch, at the press of Chuck's lips fitting against his own, moves them to nibble lightly at the remainder of chocolate there, finally closing his eyes.]
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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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heheheheheheheheheheheheh
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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