tugs his finger on the top rim of his mask & tugs it down just enough to expose his lips, & presses his own (very glossed, maybe a bit bloody.) lips to them.
β whatβ β is all he can get out before jiwoon's lips are pressed to his. there is a moment where aesop feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest, that he is going to fall over dead from pure shock. it passes soon enough, but his pulse is loud in his own ears and he finds that he doesn't quite know where to place his hands, so for a long moment, they hang uselessly at his sides. it's nice, as far as kisses go, he supposes; he doesn't quite have a frame of reference, but jiwoon's lips are soft and the taste is addicting, so he's quite content to just let it happen.
it isn't until he remembers his manners that he thinks perhaps he should return the favor, so he tips his head ever so slightly to allow a better angle. he brings his hands to rest on jiwoon's hips, and tugs him in closer. the kiss is returned with a hunger that aesop can't recall feeling before, and he finds that he wants to sate his appetite, learn more about the curious press of their bodies together. a soft, eager sound comes from deep within his chest and he lets one hand sneak around to press against the small of jiwoon's back, the other moving up to cup his cheek.
he pulls back, lips slightly parted, breath heavy.
there are hundreds of things that he could say now, he knows. but the hunger gnaws at the pit of his gut and his lips taste of copper, and all he can think about is the next kiss, and all that come after. his fingers curl in to secure his hold, and he simply lets himself want. β jiwoon, β is all aesop says, before he surges forward, pressing their lips together once more.
