Wax

Fifty Seven

A/N: Behold. The moment we have all been waiting for. 

This chapter is 8k words long and of course, my way of thanking you Beans for waiting years (Vanilla and Leroy relate to this) for this to happen HAHAHAHAHA thank you for your patience. And naturally, this three-week chapter took me much, much effort and though I myself am extremely pleased with the outcome, I can only hope you feel the same. It is past midnight here after a long day and my eyes are closing. 

There is a perspective switch in the middle of this very long, very steamy, VERY THICK chapter and it's been some time since Flight School, but I decided to write the latter half in third-person because it provides a better picture of the character's emotions and depicts the scene from a bird's eye view (YES THIS IS WHY FLIGHT SCHOOL IS WRITTEN IN THIRD PERSON). Anyway, strap in and hold on because this chapter is an avalanche and a single flame combined.

Enjoy.

________________________

[Vanilla]

It is extremely difficult for someone who places less emphasis and importance on anything remotely romantic or sexual in their lives to describe the act of kissing. That would be me. On one hand exists the most generous of mankind partaking in such activities at parties and with multiple different people in the span of one wild night. Some take a step further to draw interesting conclusions: equating kissing to breathing and sounding perfectly absurd but even then, people were allowed to live the lives they wanted to live as long as they weren't doing anything illegal, per se.

But to the relative and quiet minority of people on the vague spectrum of sexuality, the act of romantic kissing can sound fairly intimidating. Now I know it sounds like I'm on the brink of contradicting myself; how could someone who doesn't care for romance or sex feel anything about kissing, let alone caution and intimidation?

To a man of rationality and reason, I'd simply eliminated all means of distraction—unnecessary engagement in sexual activity is therefore one such thing to a person of my nature. The only time I could ever fathom to be faced with the prospect of a kiss, of wanting to engage in such an act, was if my partner was a specific person.

And thus here we are, pressed up against each other in an elevator going against the laws of my universe and and and engaging in... i-in. Each other.

"Open."

"Wha..." I blinked up at him through a blur. "Mmh—!"

Words went out the window the moment I felt his tongue against mine, taking in the scent of smoked cinnamon and the sweetness of cream and coconut, an otherworldly combination made only possible by the very dessert I'd enjoyed mere hours before.

He moved in a way I could only describe as deep, fingers reaching into my hair and then lower to my neck while he worked on a knee-buckling pleasure on the roof my palate.

I struggled to remain standing, reaching behind me for the handrails that lined the elevator in a fever but felt his hands on mine at once, filling the gaps between my fingers and guiding me to his shoulders instead. The next thing I knew, he'd shifted closer and propped me up against the railings like I weighed close to nothing—hands resting firmly on my waist to prevent any further instances of malfunction.