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And oh, oh. Isn’t that a revelation? It feels like discovery, reinvention, reanimation. Benrey’s lips on his—it’s a shock, a defibrillator to his dormant desires. Gordon didn’t remember needing this, craving it, but now it’s all he can think about. Benrey is the first taste of spring, and Gordon can’t help but thaw, helpless to the season's pull. And he tastes like spring too—honeysuckle with a bitter edge, a sweetness tainted by something darker. Gordon wants to further explore and discern what more that taste has to offer, but Benrey is already pulling away.
A desperate, needy sound escapes Gordon, raw and unbidden. Benrey stares with the intensity of dilated eyes and flared nostrils—breaths slow and measured. A cat waiting for the mouse to make the first move, patient and predatory, a cat about to get its cream.
Gordon, in contrast, is breathless, open-mouthed, teetering on the edge of losing control. If he’s ever wanted to get inside Benrey’s head before, now it’s tenfold. He’s still stifling all the want he had tried to suppress before; it’s boiling over the surface now.
“Did you mean to do that?” he asks, his voice stripped bare, painfully sincere. The tone is so alien that it might not have even come from Benrey. It’s so earnest, so exposed, that Gordon can’t help but laugh, a brittle sound that fills the space between them.
Benrey reels back at Gordon’s brashness, a movement so subtle that Gordon would have missed it if they had not been so close. Gordon grabs Benrey’s hands in his, staring down at their intertwined fingers. He traces his thumb over the sensitive pads of Benrey’s palms and feels him shiver.
After a moment’s pause, he meets Benrey’s eyes again.
“Yeah,” Gordon confirms, his exhale a fragile whisper.
Then, without warning, Benrey is upon him.
If the first kiss was discovery, the second one is victory. It’s all hands and tongues, hair and teeth. Gordon cannot tell where his lips end and Benrey’s begin, their mouths melding into one. Benrey’s inexperience is clear, but Gordon can’t speak to it either. It’s like kissing a tongue twister, a tangle of missteps and confusion, each movement a gamble.