[L was also focusing on other things in his teens. He did not attend parties like this, and did not think that kissing was in his near or distant future. Maybe he had his priorities straighter back then, maybe his lack of opportunities just made that easy. Either way, they're figuring it out together, and Shōyō is steadily proving that he can protect L's ego through the occasional stumble or faux pas. Wherever this takes them, that particular skill is bound to serve him well; for now, L remains blissfully aware that licking teeth isn't actually that hot.
Learning by doing is really the kind and quiet way to discover that through exploration. Their lips find each other again, they're back on track, and it turns out there's a kind of fluid rhythm to the art. Longer kisses, shorter ones, creating a kind of language of desire with no idiolect quite the same, subtle little signatures sprinkled throughout. Even in the dark, L's pretty sure he can remember what makes Shōyō's kissing unique, albeit with the flattering filter of having nothing at all to compare it to.
As Shōyō opts to deepen the kiss and cup the sides of his pale face (now flushed), L's hands wander, too, resting against Shoyo's firm and solid chest. He defaults so often to being cold and distant, and perhaps his impulse is to feel how fast Shōyō's heart is beating, to marvel at passion stirring blood up close. It's not like he's ever had an opportunity before, after all.
He can feel that much over the top of Shōyō's shirt, but as his lips move against the redhead's, his mind wanders to what it would feel like to slip his hands under it to glide along the story of dedication, training and hard work that Shōyō's toned torso tells. For all that their gifts are frequently at-odds, they share those most important qualities in common, and from the start, it's what allowed Shōyō to earn the respect of an often aloof and distant man.]
no subject
Learning by doing is really the kind and quiet way to discover that through exploration. Their lips find each other again, they're back on track, and it turns out there's a kind of fluid rhythm to the art. Longer kisses, shorter ones, creating a kind of language of desire with no idiolect quite the same, subtle little signatures sprinkled throughout. Even in the dark, L's pretty sure he can remember what makes Shōyō's kissing unique, albeit with the flattering filter of having nothing at all to compare it to.
As Shōyō opts to deepen the kiss and cup the sides of his pale face (now flushed), L's hands wander, too, resting against Shoyo's firm and solid chest. He defaults so often to being cold and distant, and perhaps his impulse is to feel how fast Shōyō's heart is beating, to marvel at passion stirring blood up close. It's not like he's ever had an opportunity before, after all.
He can feel that much over the top of Shōyō's shirt, but as his lips move against the redhead's, his mind wanders to what it would feel like to slip his hands under it to glide along the story of dedication, training and hard work that Shōyō's toned torso tells. For all that their gifts are frequently at-odds, they share those most important qualities in common, and from the start, it's what allowed Shōyō to earn the respect of an often aloof and distant man.]