#arachnid---writes

You smile in relief as if you didn't know you could do that already and pick out the rest of your order. Damian notices the cashier giving him a very unsubtle stink eye as she taps your order into her little screen.

He clears his throat and gazes down at the checkered floor, awkwardly crossing his arms and looking around to avoid the judgemental gaze. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you sniff and rub your nose in the way you only do when you're trying to hide a creeping smile.

He suddenly understands what's going on.

Of course. He rolls his eyes, scoffing to himself before his eyes meet the cashiers again and he freezes a little under her icy glare. She taps her nails against the counter, her brow arched, clearly waiting for him to order although she looks more like she'd rather he keel over and wither away into dust.

He straightens up a little and turns to you.

"My love, Is it alright with you if I get the Vegetarian Mega Bat-wrap?"

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide like a cat caught stealing from a dinner plate.

"Uh-"

"And extra large Bat-fries, if that's okay?"

Oh, the smug look on his face is absolutely infuriating.

You purse your lips and give him a curt nod. His smug tone as he orders the rest of his meal has you taking in a deep breath so you don't punch him in the face right then and there.

The cashier's eyes flicker back and forth between your flustered face and your very self-satisfied boyfriend's.

She hands you your order ticket and you give her a quick "Thank you." before speed walking away from the counter, dragging him along by his arm.

"Fuck you!"

You punch him in the chest, smothering a hushed snort with your hand.

"I don't know what you mean, Beloved?"

He tilts his head down to get a better look at you and you swipe at the awful smirk on his face.

"You smug piece of shit."

So yes, he's easy to ragebait but he's also quick to catch on and he loooooves catching on.

He shrugs like this is a very simple critique, like it's obvious. You give him an unimpressed look and move your hand to say, “go on” and he turns in his chair to face you. 

“The love interest is emotionally distant and can't confess his love verbally so he tries to convey all his feelings to her in a kiss, but that doesn't work if the kiss is poorly described. Have you never kissed anyone before?” 

You gape at him,  

"You can tell that just by how I wrote it?" 

"There were other signs as well." 

You swipe at his head, but he ducks and you give a huff before falling on his bed.  

You take some air into your lungs, calming yourself down just a little. This is the reason you went to Damian for editing, because you knew he would be honest and blunt with you. Even if it's what you need, it still sucks to hear.  

“I've read and seen a hundred kiss scenes, but when I write It just feels like I’m repeating things instead of actually understanding how it feels or what It's even supposed to feel like.”  

Damian gives a little hum, he looks around his room, trying to find something to say when his eyes catch the cover of his newest manga he left on his desk. The cheery shoujo protagonist winks back at him with a smile that says, "Go for it, Damian!".  

He takes a breath and gets up from his desk chair. 

“We could act it out if that would help.” 

"The confession scene?" 

"And the kiss."  

You tilt your head in his direction, searching his face for anything other than seriousness.

The suggestion isn’t as bizarre as it initially sounds. You’ve had him act out scenes for you before, mostly fight scenes because he’s really good at figuring out the choreography for some reason.  

It might help with your story and finally get your first kiss done with. Solving two problems with one kiss from your incredibly attractive writing buddy? You'd be stupid to decline.   

With that last thought, you roll out of his bed and stand in front of him. He looks all serious like always, poker-face never faltering. You clear your throat,

“So the confession scene is almost painful to read because he's trying so hard to just say how he feels but he just can't. He says something like, “I don’t have the words now, but just let me show you, please.” ...and then he kisses her.”  

Damian nods, letting some amusement slip as your bashfulness shows through. He shuffles closer, hands grasping at your arms like you described in your writing. He leans in, only an inch from your face, his eyes focused on you, on your lips.  

“I don’t have the words now, but just let me show you, please.”

Fake words have never sounded so sweet. He looks at you expectantly.

“And then she says...?”  

You take a breath.

“Show me.” 

You let him bring you closer, turning your head just slightly so your lips lock together perfectly. His lips are soft, plumper than you imagined as they move against your own. It’s somehow exactly like what you imagined yet also completely unfamiliar. He’s warm and you can feel his nose against your cheek, his lashes brushing against yours.  

It’s over far too quickly. He pulls away, eyes flicking around your face, assessing your reaction. Before you can say a word, he speaks in his usual monotone,   

“I think you can do better.”  

You blink, pulling away slightly.  

“Huh?”  

“If this man’s feelings are so intense then the kiss should reflect that. This should be the culmination of all his pent-up emotions throughout the entire story, it should have more passion.” 

It’s strange how practical his correction feels, just like when he's telling you a fight scene would not happen like you describe. You nod and Domain grabs the sleeves of your hoodie, shaking you a little with a glare that feels so real.

"It’s torture just being around you. You don't understand these feelings I have.” 

You try matching his intensity yourself.

“That’s because you won't tell me.” 

“I’ve tried! I am trying. I don’t have the words to-”   

“Then show me.”  

Damian pauses for a brief moment, but before he can break character, you grab the front of his jersey.  

“Show me!”  

What happens next is less like a kiss and more like a physical confession. It’s intense, rough even, the way his lips meet yours. His fingers dig into your hair, keeping you as close as possible. It’s almost like you can feel the years worth of yearning and frustration in his kiss as he wraps an arm tightly around your back, leaving no room between you.  

You let out an embarrassing sound when you feel his tongue slide in against yours. Smooth and wet, he tastes like nothing you’ve ever had before, uniquely him. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers coursing through hair you've been dying to touch. Your chests are pressed together so you can feel each other's breaths when you finally part, gasping for air. 

"You really want me to show you?"

He sounds almost ragged, his warm hands hold your hips close to his, close enough to feel what he's propositioning. You're unsure if he's still playing a character, you certainly aren't when you slip his jacket off his shoulders, answering,

“Show me.” 

He lets his jacket fall to the floor, and wastes no time ridding himself of his shirt. He lets you feel up his chest as he latches his lips with yours again, like he’d been waiting an eternity for a chance to taste you again.  

Despite the harsh pace, his tongue is soft against yours and when you suck on it just a little, he groans into your mouth.   

The sound burns you from the inside while his lips burn you from the outside. Without leaving your lips he brings you down to straddle him as he sits on the edge of his bed.

“Is this still part of your story?” 

He blinks up at you slowly with a very distracting smug quirk in his lips that you can't help but kiss a few more times before answering,

“If I say yes, will you stay in character.” 

You try not make it sound like a plea but the last thing you want is to stop here, you watch the way his lashes flutter and his grin widens.  

“What character? The one who can’t express his feelings in words but makes up for it in actions? That one?” 

You purse your lips to hide a smile, looking to the side to avoid his gaze.  

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”  

You feel his lips brush against the skin of your neck. 

“You could’ve just told-” 

“If I take my shirt off, will you shut up.” 

He chuckles into your skin, right against your pulse and you feel it in your stomach. His hand moving under your shirt and up your back answers your question.

--- 

“The fade to black to imply an off-page sex scene is cowardly.” 

You feel Damian's voice as you lean against his chest, sipping on your morning tea, eyes still a little blurry as you squint at the text you wrote down last night after the very helpful critiques he gave you.  

“Well, why don't you write it then since you're such an expert in romance."

You meant it as a joke but he immediately starts typing, only leaving you to scoff and shake your head.