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They know what kissing you is like. The taste of your tongue, the form of your lips. Zayne's all-consuming kisses, that have his hands desperate to hold you in place as he claims your mouth over and over again, barely giving either of you a moment to breathe before he's swallowing up your air. And Sylus's passionate yet tentative kisses, that wait for you to set the pace, to find exactly how you want to be kissed so he can provide, with teeth that catch on your lip and groans that vibrate low against your tongue.
Kissing you is easy.
Kissing each other is foreign.
It's not that they don't like each other; they had to, else they wouldn't have agreed on a polyamorous relationship in the first place. Sylus likes Zayne ability to care for you where he can't, ensuring your medical well-being while you're in Linkon. And Zayne, likewise, knows he can have peace of mind when you're with Sylus in the N109 Zone, protected even in the ever-dangerous situations you find yourself in.
And neither can deny the attraction that's built up over these couple months. The extension of their caretaking spreading just that little bit further to encompass the other. Zayne reminding Sylus to wear eye protection in the day time and keep medicine with him in case of migraines. Sylus sending food deliveries to the hospital when Mephisto hasn't seen the doctor eat more than a protein bar all day. Cuddle sessions with you between them that feel less like a silent tug-of-war and more like a merging, with hands that settle on shoulders or waists without feeling out of place. Lingering stares after the other comes from the shower, bathed in steam and dripping rivulets of water down into the towel around their hips...
But they've never kissed.
Until they come together to prepare dinner for you before you get back from work. Sylus is only as good as the instructions of the recipe, so Zayne tells him what to do, tasking him with chopping vegetables and washing the already-used dishes and pans. Zayne slices meat and controls the spices, cooking the food proper, skin heated by the stove.
They're surprised they finish before you come back. Mephisto ensures you're safe, on your way, and they linger in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters while they wait.
Sylus leans against the kitchen island. Arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders seem broader, muscles bulging just that little bit through his designer dress shirt, collar popped open and the barest hints of his chest exposed.
Zayne is dressed down in a casual sweater. His glasses sit neatly folded in the living room, awaiting the chance to be used for some light reading before bed. His shoulder blades brush against the cabinets behind him, hands planted on the counter on either side of his hips, loose and relaxed.
It's Sylus who bridges the distance. He stands to his full height slowly, watching Zayne like a predator watches a prey as he stalks in slow steps closer. Zayne watches him in return, straightening up subconsciously, becoming alert as he's suddenly caged in. Two hands brushing his where they press against the counter, bodies too close, faces inches apart.
"I can see why they love you," Sylus says. There's no jealousy, no bitterness. It's almost... fond. Like he's extracted all the reasons you chose the doctor to be your partner and adapted them himself.
Zayne takes a breath in the weight of the implications. "Does this mean you approve of me?" he asks, probing for more answers. A question underlying the spoken one, wondering why he's doing this now.
Sylus hums. His eyes flick down to his mouth. "Do you approve of me?" he volleys back.
"Yes," Zayne answers easily, matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't have entered this relationship with you if I hadn't."
"You didn't know me well when we made that deal."
"No. And I'm sure you knew much more about me than you led on."
"I did."
"You approved of me then, too."
"I did."
A pause. A gap in the banter. They stare at each other. Eye to eye, chests rising and falling, brushing at each well-timed inhale, breaths fanning across mouths.
Zayne breaks it, quietly. "They love you, too," he says, like a whisper, like an admittance. His fingers shift on the counter, moving over just enough to brush against his. He can see in his face the flicker of hesitation, uncertainty, just before his fingers shift to accept the touch. Hazel eyes flicker down briefly. "Knowing you as I do now, even the matters of your life I cannot abide by... I approve of you."
Sylus leans down, closes that distance in a soft peck. Hesitant. Testing. It's barely a kiss at all. But it burns like fire. Alights against Zayne's lips like errant sparks.
When he pulls away, heavy-lidded eyes open to find each other, to ask silent questions. Was that okay? Did it feel as good to you as it did to me? Can I kiss you again?
Zayne answers them all with a shaky exhale. Anxieties, fears, worries, all blown away, just before he tilts his head up to kiss him again. And this one, it's the same kiss Sylus watched him inflict on you countless times before. The kiss he observed from afar imposed on him as a cool hand wraps around the back of his neck, skilled fingers tangling at the short hairs there, pulling him closer and closer, devouring him.
Sylus groans, presses his body as close to Zayne's as possible, grabbing onto his narrow waist to keep him right where he wants him. He can understand now how addicting kissing the doctor must be for you. The way his mouth consumes everything he can give and more. The brief moments of respite, filled by the sharp inhale that warns of the next crash of mouth to mouth.
Sylus finds an opening. Just as Zayne pulls away for a breath, his teeth catch his lower lip. He can hear the way his breath hitches, surprised, broken into a breathy moan as he tugs on the plump flesh and lets it go. Drawing such a sound from Zayne is a challenge, even for you. The doctor is so restrained. So careful. Sylus delights in picking apart all the ways he can break him down.
When Sylus surges forward to claim more, Zayne's head bumps into the cabinet with a wooden thunk. It breaks them from their new addictions. Grins and huffs of laughter follow as they pull apart. Hearts beating in sync.
But, gods, Zayne can't stop admiring how good it looks on Sylus. Red lips, glistening with spit, bruised from the sheer force of Zayne's kisses. And Zayne, his lower lip imprinted with the shape of Sylus's teeth, lips gleaming and swollen. Both of them, burning with flushed cheeks and ears.
The sound of a bag hitting the floor jolts them further apart, all attention turned sharply to the entrance of the kitchen. You stand there, eyes wide, mouth agape in awe. They were so locked into one another they didn't even hear the keys in the lock or the door opening, or the steps it took for you to reach them. And thank god they didn't!
"Can you do that again?" you beg, eager, excited, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet as you put your hands together, begging. "Please, please, please?"