"Can I Kiss You?" / {{ WHY NOT?? }}
Send "Can I kiss you?" to see how my muse responds.
When he first met Fenris, it was difficult to believe they’d get to these terms.
Leto didn’t look for romance, for love, not for anything but perhaps an ally for the times when he felt most alone, someone he could without warning visit and tell his woes to; and he had found the right person. It hadn’t exactly taken all that long either, when he figured Fenris was someone to accept all of his flaws, from his scars to his psychosis, he knew that he wasn’t going to be a nobody to him. He smiled as he approached him, a slight flush on dark, scarred cheeks present, and eyes fluttering as his gaze switched from the ground to the slightly taller male. They had just been spending time together, and he could feel a certain warmth— a familiar fire burn in his chest when he looked at the other, unable to keep the smiles from coming. He was so familiar, so pleasant, it nearly as if they were destined to meet.
And then he heard that QUESTION.
His smile somewhat faded, his heart racing in his chest. He wanted to— he oh so wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to burden the other with romantic intention, though s it seemed so far none of the inconveniences he experienced had appeared to bother him too much to stop him from wishing to enter a romantic relationship with him; this question being the very proof of that. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, before eventually him breaking, saying ( ’FUCK IT!’ ) to himself and stepping forward. Hands placed themselves on his slender shoulders, then guided themselves to his neck, settling there and letting their gazes meet before he pulled him down into a gentle kiss. Eyes closed, he enjoyed the brief, passionate moment, one where fingers shifted to cup his jaw and pull him even closer. When he finished, his face hovered near the others, eyes opening to inspect his expression before a joyous smile came onto his face, still so tightly holding onto him.
“—- If you wish, darling." A giggle followed, his words, and he retracted his hand to cover his mouth, hide it— to persist his irritable facade, even around him. It wasn’t because he hated him, no; it was simply the way he worked, and always would, and would fit it into the way he loved just perfectly.
