drabbles. nirvana

FUCKSIA. / 12

SMUT WARNING.

this is a two-shot, which means it consists of two chapters.

(2/2)

Dave preferred his pink hair over anything else that night.

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The kiss had turned open-mouthed and breathy when they reconnected their lips together, both boiling and hot all over to each other's touch, passionately set aflame by arousal.

Dave's skin crawls with uncertainty and anticipation, Kurt's hands are skimming under his shirt and up his warm back, bringing even more shivers down the brunet's spine. It was already too vast for him to handle— particularly when the prominent vocalist's legs drape around his midsection and heave him closer, forging the pleasantest friction he's ever felt in a while as Kurt arches his back further, all over his so-called best friend.

It's as if they're both warring now, incapable of concluding whether the kiss should keep going or not, or perhaps one of them wants to break it and the other doesn't.
​
Or maybe it was all some misinterpretation because Dave didn't reckon that Kurt would pull away first— but he did.

"You're a great kisser and all that," Kurt heaved hefty breaths. "But I suggest that we move to the bedroom- unless you're gonna be an asshole and—"

"Shut up," Dave hushes, letting go of the latter and uncomfortably shifting away. "Let's go already."

Melancholy sights slim as Kurt flashes a halfhearted grin, slipping off of the counter and dragging past the dear brunet, guiding the way upstairs to his bedroom— said brunet clumsily heeding, striving to restrict his desperations and temptations as they both sped up the stairs, and it was relatively visible that Kurt was as frantic as Dave was right now.

They both reach the bedroom as soon as they eventually part from the stairs— shutting the door behind the both of them, Kurt leading in first and Dave precisely after; being the one to close the door after them. Kurt is already sat on the bed, reaching over to turn on the little lamp positioned on the plateau-like table by the bed, right next to a few white flowers that looked like they were seconds away from shriveling. The soft light cast shadows over the formerly blond's complexion, making him appear somehow even more alluring. It's impossible to suppress him now— altogether.

"Gonna keep starin'?" Grimly blue gazes narrowed as a smirk danced on the crimson-haired's lips, it's a youthful sort of a smile— a break from his common apathetic, gloomy demeanor. It let his existing energy gleam through without being obnoxious, and the minor detail made Dave happy.

"You're honestly so beautiful, I'm amazed," Dave crooned. "I mean it. You're stunning."

"Dave, shut up and come here before you make me throw up," Kurt quipped. "You're so sweet that it's literally sickening."

Dave rolled his eyes with a radiant smile as he sat down on the bed right next to his, yet again, '''friend''', veering around until he can climb onto his lap and push him down to the mattress, legs now on either side of the disastrously flushed frontman. He changed positions until he sat, conveniently, right on top of the latter's crotch, and oh man; it was thrilling. He could feel his hard-on through that exasperate pair of jeans— hard and definitely fucking there. It's searing his core to the degree where it felt like everything in him had disintegrated; formed into a thick libation that burst and steamed with sheer desire.