#cwtv

Ace, we can’t...

Canon Sapphic Characters Tournament Round One (Bracket 7)

Spotted, S & B. You know you miss me

Mick: Leonard may have died.

Barry: He may have died?

Sara: We’re looking into it.\

Memir/Bele, "I need you now" kisses

Mick/Len, "maybe in another life" kisses

❤️💋

Here you go, bb! Memir/Bele kisses ahoy! (none of this is beta'ed, btw)

~*~

Bele's heart was thrumming in his chest like it wanted to escape out of his throat. Despite the rush of adrenaline and anxiety, he'd thought he'd been holding himself together pretty well… at least until Pan— Pan— pulled him aside and asked if he was okay, her eyes straight ahead and fixed on the dagger on his hip.

"I'm fine," Bele said, embarrassed and oddly touched; his feelings had to be written all over his face if Panacorin was trying to comfort him. He looked toward Memir, searching for him on instinct even though he knew for a fact that Memir hadn't quite yet moved from the table where they'd been having their meals. 

Quarie caught his attention first, less because of his Fey beauty, the curtain of his shining dark hair and the net of sapphires woven between the strands, and more because he was reaching out and brushing a strand of Memir's hair away from Memir's jaw.

The season of his soul turned into burning summer, and he stalked toward the table, reaching out for Memir's hand and squeezing. Memir turned his attention to Bele immediately, his cheeks flushing into a dusky bronze— it made Bele catch his breath, how beautiful Memir was, even as satisfaction burned through him with the way Memir had immediately ignored their host.

"Borrowing my husband," Bele said bluntly, and Memir rose from his seat without a pause, his tail quivering slightly before it curled around his leg. A distant part of Bele was disappointed that Memir was tucking his tail away, but the rest of him didn't care as he turned on his heel and dragged Memir to the quarters they'd so generously been offered.

The door was barely shut before Bele hefted Memir into his arms, clenching his fingers into a fist at the small of Memir's back and clutching at the loose fabric he found there like a lifeline. Memir was already leaning in to kiss him when Bele raised his face, and Bele lost track of time as he pressed Memir against the door and ravaged his husband's mouth. 

There was only the fierce press of Memir's lips, the heat of his tongue. Memir dug his fingers into Bele's braids, legs tight around Bele's waist, his tail curling around one of Bele's arms. They chased each other's breath, and Bele nipped Memir's bottom lip, tearing his attention from Memir's mouth to bite a trail of marks that flushed bronze, so pretty that Bele had to start over again and suck Memir's skin to a delicious copper tone, Memir's pulse fluttering wildly against the suction of Bele's mouth.

"Jealous?" Memir managed to push the word out as if he were surprised, and knowing that Memir had used their rings to peek into Bele's feelings twisted him in a strange way, relief and love combating with his possessive hunger.

He managed to nod, catching at the skin just above Memir's collarbone. "Didn't like the way he looked at you. You're mine. Gonna make sure he knows, make you scream."

Memir laughed at that. "You always do," he murmured,  and he used Bele's braids like reins, guiding him toward their bed.

There was an inkling, a tease of an idea, that maybe Memir had let Quarie flirt with him on purpose, but Bele was okay with that. He loved giving Memir exactly what he wanted.

~*~

Next, we have Mick/Len in another life kisses, woooo!

~*~

Mick was going to die, which was a weird thought that bounced around in his head. He'd been alive for centuries with the Time Pigs, so thinking about death now was almost a relief. He'd go out stopping Haircut from filling out this last ditch attempt to keep the time stream leashed— not a bad way to go at all.

Only thing he had left to do was make Leonard leave with the rest of them. 

Problem was, Leonard was still standing there, with that thoughtful, calculating look that always used to drive Mick crazy.

"Pretty boy said I gotta hold this stick for the ship to blow," Mick said, shouting over the noise of the battle around them. "So I'm holding this stick. Now leave!"

Something in Leonard's eyes softened, and he raised his hand, curling it around the nape of Mick's neck. "My old friend, please forgive me."

Mick frowned, torn between keeping his attention on the self-destruct mechanism and desperately wanting to have just one more look at Leonard. "For what?"

Leonard turned Mick's face toward him and leaned in  to kiss Mick so gently, so sweetly that Mick knew without a doubt that he had to be hallucinating. 

This was supposed to be the one secret Leonard pretended to let him keep.

Leonard pulled away, searching Mick's face with his eyes, and he pulled Mick in, pressing Mick's face against the fur of his collar. Mick's eyes stung, and he hid in the softness of Leonard's jacket, taking a breath of Leonard's sandalwood scent. Just one second. Just one more, and he'd make Leonard leave.

The cold gun cracked against the back of Mick's head, and everything went black.