rabidchild67:

Lips

He’s eating a beignet, the powdered sugar piled at least a half inch high
on top, so naturally some of it has come off on his lips. A thick smear of it
adorns his philtrum like snow on the mountains, some of it slowly dissolving
against the moisture of his lips as he chews. Philtrum—Zach knows what it’s called because he looked it up in an
anatomy text once. It’s the vertical groove that extends from the nose to the
upper lip; Chris’s is unusually wide and deep, due to the width of his mouth,
and Zach has been obsessed with it since the day they met. 

He’s seen that precious divot filled with sweat, milk, facial hair of
course, and on one inauspicious occasion, blood from a nosebleed. The powdered
sugar reminds Zach of other things
he’d like to see there and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“More coffee?” he offers, leaning forward as he strategically rearranges the
napkin in his lap. They’re sitting in an outdoor cafe in New Orleans, taking
the time for a leisurely breakfast before press commitments take them away. 

“Mm!” Chris replies enthusiastically in the positive, pushing his cup
forward. Zach pours from the pot the waitress had brought them when they were
seated. Chris lifts the cup from above, his hand dwarfing it, sipping of it
deeply as he closes his eyes blissfully and moans as he swallows the hot liquid.
Zach needs another napkin. 

Breakfast continues on in a similar vein, Zach suffering the whole while.
They eventually have to leave. Zach pays and follows the winding route Chris
took through the packed cafe out to the street. When he finds him, Chris is
obligingly signing autographs. Chris breaks off as soon as he sees Zach, and
comes bounding over like an adolescent golden retriever. 

“Hey! Ready to get going?” Chris says. 

A dusting of powdered sugar remains on his upper lip and Zach can’t take
his eyes off it. “Yeah, I, um, what do you say to walking over to the studio?” 

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great.” 

“Cool—I feel like I haven’t, um, gotten much exercise—“ 

Chris frowns. “Is there something on my mouth?” He wipes at it self-consciously,
still missing the sugar. 

“I’d like to be,” Zach murmurs without thinking. 

Chris hasn’t seemed to notice. “I can never seem to notice it. Katie makes
fun of me all the time. Wait, what?” 

Their eyes meet. “Nothing.” 

“You said something.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You said you’d like to be. Like to be what? On my mouth? Is that what
you meant, because if it is—“ 

Before he knows what he’s doing, because he needs to take this chance now—and
OK yeah partly to shut Chris up—Zach leans forward and kisses him. He can taste
the sugar on Chris’s mouth, and the coffee on his breath, and his astonishment in
the lack of response. He pulls away with a heartfelt, “Sorry!” 

“Sorry for what?” Chris asks, looking kind of dazed. 

“What I just did.” 

“Oh. Are you really?” 

“Only if you want me to be.” 

“Don’t think I do, but let’s be sure.” Chris slides a hand around the
back of Zach’s neck and pulls him closer. Their second kiss is deeper, more
soulful. Zach has to lock his knees to keep standing. “Nope, pretty sure I am
going to want a lot more of that,” Chris says before kissing Zach again.