Lonerism

Kiss Me

Kiss Me

In the summer of '98, on a silent and starry night, two young boys lay side-by-side in the green, green grass. The silver moon sparkled up above, and fireflies danced down below.

One of the boys, Darwin, had his eyes closed, dreaming thoughtfully of too many things to remember all at once. He was dreaming of the future, and all the things he had planned. Hopes and aspirations, a perfect and well-thought out view of the path ahead. He dreamed of slow kisses, fast fucks, hard pecs, and soft hugs. He dreamed of home and far-far-away, of things old and new, borrowed and blue.

The other boy, Ghent, had his arms behind his head, his eyes wide open, staring up into the milky twilight.

Ghent wasn't much of a planner, unlike the friend that lay beside him on the moonlit floor. He never had a plan, actually. He never thought things all the way through, he just went with the flow. It was how his brain was wired.

He did things as they came to him, thoughtless of the consequences. As soon as a thought entered his head, he'd say exactly what it was, or he'd take the initiative and seize it without a care in the world. He preferred to live in the moment that way, in the now, rather than to be held back by fear. Ghent was fearless that way.

"Winnifred," he said, propping himself up on his elbows.

Darwin peeked open a single eye, unamused, and closed it again, sighing.

"What have I told you about calling me Winnifred?" he asked, his tone disinterested and slightly annoyed. He didn't like being dragged out of his head, he could stay in there all day if it weren't for other fucking people.

"Kiss me," said Ghent, a teasing and cheeky smile on his face. The thought must've suddenly came to him, and of course, being Ghent, he announced it as it did.

Darwin's eyes bulged open at his remark, then his face softened, his lips curling into a crooked smile. He knew Ghent too well.

He was being totally serious, he could tell just by looking at him. He must've been wondering what it would be like, or maybe he was just in the mood to feel a pair of soft lips against his own, and Darwin just so happened to be the only person around for miles.

Or maybe he liked him, or maybe he was just teasing, joking around playfully. Either way, Darwin sat up straight to face him.

"Come 'ere then," he said, opening out his arms, wondering if he'd actually do it. But knowing Ghent, he wasn't surprised to watch him climb over onto his lap and slide into his embrace like two puzzle pieces being placed together.

Ghent looked right into his eyes in that moment. They were a brown that burned bright like rusty, melting metal. He planted his hands on his chest, letting one of them fall down and under his shirt, touching the soft, sizzling flesh beneath it. His fingertips grazed over hard abs that dimpled above his navel, feeling a small collection of brisk hair there too. The other hand smoothed around to his back, grabbing him closer, harder.

The feel of a man in his hands was new to Ghent, but he didn't mind it. He always did enjoy trying new things. It gave him a rush; he was an adrenaline junkie that way. Anything for the thrill, he'd say.

But the touch of a man was certainly nothing new to Darwin, and Ghent knew it too. The feel of manly lips was nothing new to him either, of stubble prickling his face, or an ass cupped in his hands, a dick in his mouth.

"So," Ghent continued, getting bored of waiting, "kiss me."

Darwin laughed, and the sound of it made Ghent raise an eyebrow. He knew he wanted to, so what was he waiting for? Why was he taking his time?