Chapter Text
Epel gasps the moment their lips disconnect, his heart violently thrumming and pushing itself up his throat with each haggard breath imbued with every ounce of confusion and fluster simmering the blood beneath his skin. His hands are trembling and he can’t decide if he wants to pull Riddle closer or push him away—he can’t think.
He swallows thickly, pursing his lips that can only seem to recall the softness of another against them. The exhilarating rush of kisses before the surge of confident prodding—
“W-Wh—O-Oh, wait, wait—ow!” Epel yelps as he feels teeth graze his collarbone, another surge of heat rushing to his face as he scrambles further up the bed. “Slow down!”
Riddle promptly sits up, looking down at Epel all confused and worried. “What’s wrong?” he asks, breathless.
Everything! So much! Epel screams in his head.
Externally, he huffs, trying to blink away the wideness of his eyes as he takes in a deep breath with a hopeless shudder. “Are you outta your mind…?!” he wheezes out. His hands shakily clamp over his mouth, trying and failing to get any good word out.
Just when the fuck did Riddle learn how to make out like that?
Unaware of Epel’s plight, Riddle goes on to assume something else has stupefied him into mere sputters. “Shall I… um… get some water?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. His breathing has evened out, but there’s still a lingering flush on his face, a warm carmine similar to his own.
Fuck, that’s so unfair. Isn’t Riddle supposed to be the one with shitty stamina?
Epel forces himself to look away in hopes of saving some face. “No, no, I-I’m fine.” He shakes his head, tilting forward to try and hide his flushed face with his hair. “Just… fine. Yeah. G-Give me a second. Don’t you wanna take a breather?”
Riddle lets out this little amused sound, something between a huff and a laugh. “No, I’m quite alright.”
“Ugh, right. ‘Course you are,” Epel mutters under his breath. It’s not like Riddle is the one coping with a new discovery and getting his entire world broken beneath his feet.
At least Riddle’s next move makes sense—he hums in that not-quite-condescending tone he sometimes has, like Epel’s demolished ego is a light topic he can merely address with a hum, and picks up Epel’s potionology textbook before giving it a quick flip-through. Most likely checking his annotations or whatever.
… He’s so nonchalant about all this.
It genuinely feels like Riddle had this all planned out from the start. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Riddle wasn’t above excessive planning, after all. But scheming? Riddle isn’t a schemer. But… whatever just transpired feels a lot like a scheme.
There are very few instances where Riddle could manage to sweep the rug from under him when it comes to giving affection. Uncertainty and intuition are Riddle’s greatest foes. If there isn’t a way for him to turn to reliable sources and cold hard facts, he can’t move forward without being overly cautious in his every action.
It’s a different case for himself. It’s a treat to render Riddle speechless. His boyfriend would always get so red and the little locks of hair at the top of his head would curl into a much more prominent heart. He can be downright adorable a lot of the time—it hurts, honestly.
Epel isn’t very picky with his affection. Except when they’re in public. But every other moment in the day is practically ripe with opportunity for Epel to smother Riddle with the love he deserves.
He’d tease him sometimes. After all, Epel can’t keep back his delighted grins at seeing Riddle so… soft. Tempered with exasperation and melted by his endless adoration. Always quick to return the gestures with his own.
Riddle’s perfectionism always seems to seep in a little during those moments. There’s always this feeling of attentiveness that’ll linger when he combs through Epel’s hair until it was perfectly smooth, or when he adjusts the brooch pinned to his blazer if it was even the slightest bit crooked.
Perfectionism wasn’t one of Epel’s problems, but he can’t help but always find that habit to be a little silly.
And isn’t it? On the few occasions when Riddle would kiss him, he’d always ask for some kind of feedback at the end. It’s endearing, it really is. His kisses are never too long, too short, or too rough. Just a simple display of love handed out with Riddle gently cupping his cheeks every time, tilting his head ever-so-delicately into an angle that’s comfortable for the both of them.
Epel had jokingly asked him if that was all he knew. He had thought Riddle wouldn’t take it seriously. If there was one constant in their relationship, it’d be that Epel would subconsciously tease him and he would reply with a quip.
But he had severely underestimated Riddle’s perfectionism. Because holy shit—Riddle took it as a challenge. He must have. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense when Epel had just been kissed senseless within an inch of his life. He swore his soul had begun to snap off of each synapse and bone tethering it to his body with each kiss and languid drag of tongue over his teeth.
Epel feels his face heat up even more, stifling him as the memories surge back over him like a tidal wave trying to drown him in his own embarrassment. He fists the sheets in a white-knuckled grip.
The worst part might just be that Epel enjoyed it. It was good. But he can’t cope with the fact that Riddle did it. Riddle. Riddle “touch-starved” Rosehearts…!
How is Epel supposed to get over the tremendous loss of his standing as the affectionate one between them—nay, his standing as the only person in the world that could fluster Riddle?! One of his very few advantages over him has been torn away from him. Cruelly. Just like that!
Gone are the days Epel can sneak in a quick kiss and get away unscathed. No longer can he gaze upon Riddle’s adorable, flustered expressions with an adoring look on his face ever again.
Epel flops back onto the bed with a groan, rolling over and curling up as he glares at the wall. “It just ain’t fair…” he mutters under his breath. How can he ever recover?
“What’s not fair?” he hears Riddle ask, followed by the soft thump of a book being shut.
“Nothin’.” He uncurls, trying not to pout as he sits back up.
He can’t bring himself to look Riddle in the eye, opting to stare at the vase of roses over by the little seating area in his room as he fiddles with his bow—ah, right, he’s not wearing it anymore. He coughs quietly and quickly fixes his two unfastened buttons. The ruffled collar of his shirt tickling his neck again is annoying, but he feels oddly concerned about looking neater all of a sudden.
He glances up, only to meet Riddle’s confused look.
“... Stop lookin’ at me like that!” Epel snaps, trying for intimidating only to sound whiny. Dammit! He promptly shuts up and shoves his face into a pillow, resisting the urge to kick at the mattress and scream. He groans into it instead.
That’s it. He practically admitted it. There’s no way he can even pretend to be calm about it without looking like an idiot. The only way he can save himself the embarrassment is if he smothered himself right then and there.
He feels the bed dip and rise. His heart traitorously flutters as Riddle comes closer, but he has committed to abandoning his corporeal form. He doesn’t lift his head.
“Epel…”
“Don’t try me with that ‘are you okay’ thing ‘cause I’m not,” Epel huffily says.
“Okay,” Riddle says. “What’s wrong then?”
Epel fumes, disbelieving. Where’s the self-reflection here?!
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong!” He jerks up. “Y-You—!” Fuck, he can’t even say it. “You don’t even know. I—I can’t believe you would—that you could do that! That—That fucking thing l-like—I…” Epel stutters, burying his face into his hands. “You’re insane! Like genuinely and certified-ly insane. What the fuck. What the fuck! Just—How could you do that? The worst part is that—I—I…!” He chokes, stopping his rant to try and breathe through the indignance.
Epel grips his hair, futilely pushing it back only for it to fall back over his face. “Oh man, I’m pathetic as all ever…” he mutters into his hands.
He chances a glance at Riddle. He looks genuinely speechless.
“Don’t gape at me like that.” Epel huffs, his arms falling limp at his sides. “You're makin’ me feel all… weird.” That’s happening a whole lot nowadays.
Riddle purses his lips before tentatively asking, “Did… Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Epel sighs. He feels the indignance die out as he lightly smacks Riddle with a pillow. “I never said you did.”
“You made it sound like I did,” Riddle points out with a frown. “Be honest.”
“I am! I—I was.” Epel pouts. He feels his voice cloying thickly in his throat. Even after his entire rant earlier, he can’t muster up what he really wants to say, so he settles for something else instead. “When… When did you learn to do that?”
Riddle furrows his brows, thinking. “Learn to do…?”
“Wh—What else?! Shoving your tongue in my mouth!”
Realization lights up his eyes, and warmth rushes to his cheeks. “O-Oh, that.”
Epel looks at him with wide eyes, urging him to continue with this grand revelation.
Riddle awkwardly clears his throat. “Well… I suppose I’ve been, well, reading up. On it. For a while,” he says. “Maybe a day or two.”
“... That’s it? Why were you so good then, huh?!” Epel leans forward, glaring.
“P-People are awfully descriptive with their advice!”
“That’s not fair!”
“Huh…?
Epel grimaces. “It’s—! Ugh, I sound all whiny. Never mind. B-But, you… I didn’t know you’d actually…” He purses his lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually want to make out with me.”
“What was I supposed to think?” Riddle asks in disbelief. “You explicitly told me—or well, more so came forward with your opinion about it. How else was I supposed to take it?”
“As—As a joke?”
“Oh. I… I see.” Riddle awkwardly clears his throat. “Well—Well obviously I know that now,” he says, crossing his arms with a pout. “It’s just… Well, it made sense at the time. I figured we might’ve been going too slow for your taste from what you said before. I didn’t mind adjusting so I… figured I could try.”
“Oh.”
“But that’s beside the point. I apologize for wrongly assuming such things without thinking of asking first. I’ll cease my behavior at once.”
For some reason, Epel panics at that. “No!”
“P-Pardon…?”
Epel winces. Why did he say that?
He feels all unsettled now. Uncertain. Fuzzy words are clotting together in his throat with a sentiment he can’t quite place. But all he knows is that he doesn’t hate making out with his boyfriend, and he doesn’t like the thought of that being revoked from him as suddenly as it was given. Dignity be damned.
“You… You don’t have to stop,” he says. He toys with the cuffs of his shirt, his stomach alight with butterflies and trepidation. “You don’t have to stop,” he repeats, more sure this time.
Epel awkwardly scratches his neck through his frilly collar as he meets Riddle’s gaze. “I liked it.” He bites the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to wheeze and collapse into a miserable heap of embarrassment. “So… y’know. I mean, you weren’t half-bad. I was just surprised, ‘s all.”
“... Ah,” Riddle breathes out. “S-So you were.”
For someone usually so articulate, it’s funny to see him tongue-tied sometimes. At least Epel’s not the only one so off-kilter today. It’s been an odd string of events so far.
“I mean, what kinda website told you all about that kinda stuff anyway…?” He mutters, cheeks warming up. He lightly tugs at his ruffled collar with a quiet huff. “A-And where’d you even get the idea to go online to figure that out?”
“I had some time, I suppose…” Riddle admits, awkwardly clasping his hands together. “I’ve finished studying the current and next possible lessons, and seeing as my students were being less rowdy than usual and no longer require any of my previous vigilance so far, I… I simply did some research. That’s the simplest way to put it.”
“All ‘cause you wanted to make out with me?”
“It’d be a lie if I were to say that wasn’t one of the motivations… b-besides, didn’t you want to as well?”
Epel casts a glance over to their abandoned pile of schoolwork at the foot of the bed; textbooks, unfinished study guides, open notebooks, and the like.
He thinks about how such things were so easily cast aside with a one-off remark poking at Riddle for a kiss, just a little peck to satisfy him before they continue studying—only for one to become two and then too many for him to keep track of as their textbooks slid off their laps and they melted into the soft mattress in a tangle of limbs.
“I do,” Epel says quietly, feeling the yearning for those feelings again slip into his tone. Every breath seems far too loud. “I mean, y’know, I just told you.”
He turns back to Riddle, only to see a perfect flush on his cheeks, his own eyes uncharacteristically averted as he purses his lips. For a moment, it seems like he’s mulling over his words. “... I suppose you did.”
Everything is silent. Epel swallows his voice.
He can’t help but feel like everything down to his very atoms has been disjointed—scrambled up and lodged into places they shouldn’t be. He’s subconsciously bracing for something that’s already turned itself from a want to a need, the only thing that can soothe the forced serenity he’s trying and failing to keep up. He feels pantomimes of it across his skin, too warm and too spellbinding to forget.
Wanting something has never felt so daunting before. But Epel knows this. Riddle can be a little predictable at times; he’s pragmatic, he lives by routine, and—
Epel catches the stray glance thrown his way, a steel gray gaze shyly brushing his lips before darting away.
Riddle lives by a certain code of honor. Always finish what you’ve started.
“I’ll tell you what,” Epel starts, leaning over and taking hold of Riddle’s ribbon, reeling his attention in as well, “I’m kinda on a curfew here. We already got all the talking down, yeah?” He feels his face warm up as the words steadily trickle out. “If you’re all tuckered out from earlier, ‘s fine. We can go back to studying alchemical theory—or…”
“Or?” Riddle breathes out, finally meeting his gaze.
Epel smiles, nervous. “Or we can make out til we’re sick of each other and you kick me outta here for Vil ‘n Rook to find.”
His heart squeezes in delight at the way Riddle flushes. “Y-You’ve changed your mind rather quickly.”
“Change? I didn’t change anythin’ anyhow.” He shakes his head and cups Riddle’s cheek. “Now, you wanna kiss me or what?”
Riddle sighs and Epel doesn’t get a second to say anything about it as he’s eased onto his back.
“You could stand to be more polite even if it’s about things like this…” Riddle scolds, unable to maintain eye contact for long. Epel simply watches with bated breath as he props himself over him and their eyes meet again. “Comfortable?”
“Y-Yeah.” His hold tightens on his bow. “C’mon, no more stallin’...” he complains. “It’s not like I’m gonna faint.”
It’s embarrassing how he almost turns into a liar when Riddle tilts his chin up. The touch there is unfamiliar but tender. His heart convulses from its spot behind his ribcage, too busy panicking to get any blood to steady his grasp and keep any thoughts in his mind. Riddle’s so close. Any more and—
“Calm down…” Riddle soothes.
Epel bristles. “I am ca—!”
His gasp gets lost between their slotted lips. His eyes slip shut and he forgets all about his momentary annoyance.
Riddle holds his chin and deepens the kiss without the intent of letting up for even a second. They would part for a moment and only a moment before he returns with the scent of roses and the warmth of summer solstice, melting Epel into the bed without much thought or resistance.
The embarrassment starts creeping up again, coiling tight in his stomach and urging him to curl up or beat it down—but Riddle’s too close for him to try and do any of that so he ends up grasping the back of his blazer instead, trying to stop his heart with the pressure, to press against his lips even harder in hopes it’ll singe his feelings into ashes. A soft sigh is coaxed out of him when Riddle plays into his whims and he subconsciously tangles his hand into sanguine red hair.
He melts into him, unable to tell which part of him starts and ends—and whether his heart is still trembling in his chest or in Riddle’s hands.
Details of Epel’s potionology exam get lost in the wake of feather-light kisses slowly and methodically deviating from his lips. He can hardly suppress a shudder when one sweetly presses against his jaw, nor when Riddle cups his cheek to steady him.
“W-Wait, take off your gloves.” He lightly tugs on Riddle’s hair and shakily grabs his wrist. “Feels weird…”
Riddle stops and lifts his head. “Does it?” he asks. There’s an imperious aura that surrounds him when the yellowed light from the chandelier hits his back just right, sharply highlighting the edges of his silhouette and framing him like a renaissance era painting.
So, so pretty… he thinks.
Epel nods the tiniest bit, unable to look away. “Yeah,” he mumbles. He licks his lips. “Um, it’s also kinda warm in here so… y’know.”
Riddle hums and sits up, pulling Epel up with him. He wastes no time and fumbles with the clasps on his blazer before he gracelessly shucks it off. He clumsily folds it in on itself before tossing it to the end of the bed, all the while he looks to Riddle for something to occupy his racing mind.
The gloves come off in a fluid movement and are soundly placed with his blazer, with Riddle frowning a little at the messy display before thankfully turning back to him. Epel merely meets him with a little grin and wrangles him over to the headboard before settling on his lap, looping arms around his shoulders.
"Is this alright now?" Riddle asks, tenderly brushing the back of his soft hand against his warm cheek.
Epel leans forward, gently brushing their lips together, clingy and eager in a way he never thought he could be. "Yeah," he whispers, "I like it better like this." He smiles.
Hands grab his waist and shoot tingles up his spine. Riddle presses his lips to his jaw, leaving soft kisses that slip lower with each second. "I think I can see why…" He leaves one against heated skin, against his pulse where all his fluster lies. Beneath it, his adoration for Riddle runs liquid-smooth and he can't seem to leave it alone.
"Quit teasing…" Epel hisses under his breath, excited and nervous at the same time. He winds his hand into Riddle's hair, urging him closer.
He has to know. Would Riddle be gentle? Would he find this moment to be a prime opportunity to get back at Epel for all the times he had mercilessly bruised his lips with kisses and swept him into his arms just to fluster him?
He tries to distract himself by brushing his hand through the silky strands of Riddle's hair, thinking, Patience, patience, patience…
Is Riddle the type to get overzealous when he's lost in the moment? Would this perfect rose forget about its thorns hidden beneath its soft petals, and would he apologize when his love mars Epel with his own blood?
His curiosity spikes when teeth graze his skin.
"I'm not teasing," Riddle murmurs. He pauses. "Can I…?" A hand draws up to gently thumb at his neck.
"Try to strangle me? Fuck no." He lets out a breathy laugh, looking down at him with a softened gaze. "But if you want to leave some marks, I don't mind." Far be it for him to say no to such an enticing thought.
Riddle flushes red, pursing his lips. "Do… Do you want me to?"
Verbal admission is a little too much to ask so instead, Epel wordlessly tilts his head up ever so slightly, heat crawling up his neck.
Weakness. Is love not just a grand display of vulnerability?
Epel inhales sharply as Riddle grasps his chin and tilts his head back down. He meets his contemplative gaze with one of confusion. The hand on his waist gently squeezes. Relax.
"I should build up to it properly then…" Riddle muses.
And then he surges forward, lips connecting and this time there are teeth.
This time Epel's bottom lip stings with a pain he can't pinpoint—yet it immediately dissolves his anticipation into pure surprise, pulling a gasp from him as he instinctually jolts back. But Riddle keeps him there, hand on his chin, and tilts his head to slot their lips back together in a fervent kiss, tinged with a particular roughness that's not demanding, but passionate.
He melts. He trembles, admittedly, like a lovestruck idiot that's never been kissed like this before. Which is true. His eyes slip halfway shut as he fists the back of his boyfriend’s blazer. A weak sound hums mellow in the back of his throat.
It's perfect. It's everything. And—
A tongue gently nudges at his lips, and Epel is all too eager to part them and press even closer.
Riddle's hand slides into his hair and the other moves to the small of his back as he leans into the headboard, letting him tilt forward and lay against him. That's when he swears he could feel his heart erratically beating against his chest, a melody akin to his own.
Epel could never hope to pull away as quiet whines slip out of him without a way to muffle or quiet them.
Maybe he doesn't want to. At least, not as much as earlier. Riddle deserves to know he's doing a good job, so his compliance can be his praise. It’ll all be at Epel's expense, but it’s all for the boy who has the privilege to rip his heart out just to admire it. Thinking about it like that, he couldn’t be less reluctant.
Little circles rub over his hips, pulling a half-yelp half-gasp out of him as he startles out of the kiss, scrambling to grab Riddle’s wrists.
Riddle leans back, his chest heaving and his face flushed so sweetly. Despite this, his gaze is attentive.
"You don’t like that?” he asks, pressing a small kiss to his lips as if in apology.
Epel makes a noise in the back of his throat, not quite a grunt nor a hum as he tries to push through the jelly in his head and make sense of the words just thrown at him. "I do," he mumbles, his grip slipping away as he cups Riddle's cheeks and leans back in before either of them could say more.
His heart skips as he feels something lightly brushing against the back of his neck, Riddle playing with his hair in little twirls and gentle comb-throughs. Epel croons into the kiss, a pleased hum.
It's like spring has overtaken his senses. The scent of roses and herbs cling to Riddle—floral and medicinal, familiar and sedative. Mundane tempers this love just right and leaves him pliant.
Potionology could never be more important than this. If one simple kiss from Riddle is all it takes to get him from seething to pouting, he should've known that anything more would be so much more enticing. He could never get sick of his lips nor his boundless adoration, all of which he returns in kind as he fists his hair and swallows down his grunt.
He demands more. Selfishly. Because he knows Riddle would give him what he wants this one time without having to make him answer a series of questions right first.
It's just as Riddle had told him long, long ago in the middle of a hallway after school, a lovely compliment mixed amidst plenty of others in a bouquet of words; he isn't immune to Epel's charm. The sentiment still stirs at his heart, subsequently dousing him in a cold bucket of embarrassment at the realization he’s that terribly smitten—and the cringe makes him impulsively dig his nails into Riddle's cheek.
A string of saliva stretches out and snaps between them as Riddle jolts back with a hiss.
"That hurts, you know," he pants as he slides Epel's hand off, interlacing their fingers together to keep him from doing it again. “Stop that.”
His face is all scrunched up in a grimace. The lovely steel gray of his eyes glare at him lightly, but it's more cute than intimidating and the contrast of it all makes Epel forget about his prior mortification.
"Mm, sorry," Epel says, not quite remorseful, smiling demurely like a doll. "I cut my nails real short though. How did you even feel it?" He tries to sneak another kiss but Riddle, unfortunately, dodges it.
Riddle grabs his other hand as well, intertwining them. His thumb brushes over the edge of his nail and he raises a brow at him. "This is what you call short?"
"This is the shortest I’m allowed to cut them! Vil said if I can’t paint ‘em, they’re too short.” Epel huffs. “Why are we talkin’ ‘bout this? ‘S not like I clawed your face off…”
“It’s simply not good manners,” Riddle replies smoothly as he tilts his chin back up.
If Epel wasn’t such a teasing partner that liked to poke and prod at him for fun, he wouldn’t have noticed the minute quiver in his voice. But then again, Riddle’s also just an open book with its pages carelessly on display. Epel doesn’t have to overanalyze every little action when the way Riddle impatiently pulls him closer and methodically, albeit shakily, unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt to know that his calm is more shallow than it appears.
And honestly, good. Epel doesn’t have the patience for banter either, but… seeing as things are sort of in his favor anyway, it wouldn’t hurt getting a jab or two in.
“Oh yeah? I didn’t know poppin’ my shirt open without asking me first is proper.” Epel lets out a small laugh that feathers out near the end as his collar is brushed to the side and a subtle kiss is placed on his collarbone. “Y-Y’know, you’re supposed to take me to dinner first—”
He clamps his mouth shut as soon as Riddle bites down, feeling a wave of warmth wash over him and a shiver rushing down his spine in shock.
The pain is secondary; an afterthought he barely has time to mull over when Riddle unlatches and sucks a mark in its place while he does his damnedest not to show how affected he is by it. Not the bliss or the way he’s already eagerly bracing for it again.
“Ow—fuck,” he whines quietly, pursing his lips as he carefully tries to look down at Riddle through half-lidded eyes.
Riddle licks over the spot, eliciting a shiver from him. God, he swears he’s just doing it on purpose now.
“Man, you’re petty as all get out…” Epel mutters under his breath just as Riddle lifts his head to regard him with a smug smile.
He thumbs his cheek, sweetly rubbing the warmth in. “Shall I do it again?” he asks in that stupid arrogant tone so distinctly him that’s admittedly attractive in this particular situation—but holy shit Epel wants him to either shut the fuck up and bite him again, kiss him, or just cut the teasing altogether.
Epel frowns. “I’ll throw you outta the window if you don’t.”
Riddle tsks. “Ask kindly.”
“No way in hell, darlin’.”
A little line is delicately drawn over his throat before lightly pressing against the hickey. “Really?”
Epel flushes red and groans, falling back into the bed and narrowly missing a calculator before it slides off the bed and lands with a thunk. He pouts and glares up at Riddle as he settles over him, the mattress dipping slightly beneath them.
Finally, Riddle laughs and indulges him in a sweet kiss, coaxing out the last of Epel’s huffiness just like that.
Their legs tangle together as he losses himself in the motions. Pull back, reangle, kiss, repeat. He’s sure it satisfies the little part in Riddle that’s a sucker for patterns, and Epel likes it because kissing Riddle is second nature.
Somewhere in the midst of all that kissing, Riddle’s hands have found their way back into Epel’s, interlacing them together and pressing them into the bed as he kisses the corner of his lips. He hardly minds. It’s one less thing to think about.
His pulse echoes in his ears as the kisses trail lower; down his jaw, over his neck, until they reach his shoulders. Stars spark beneath Riddle’s lips.
When he leaves marks, he does so affectionately and carefully. It hurts like a pinprick before it dissolves under the attentive kisses he remedies them with, soothing bites with his tongue and nosing his pulse like a little rabbit.
Epel mouth parts as stuttered sounds and pleased sighs escape him unbidden. He blearily stares up at the ruby-red bed curtains, fitted over the canopy that blurs as his vision unfocuses each time Riddle tenderly cares over a mark and sharpens when another is added. He’s lost count of how many there are by now, but he trusts Riddle wouldn’t place one that could peek over his collars. He’d hate the ensuing lecture he’d get from Vil and…
Then again, Epel doesn’t really care about where Riddle would want to put a hickey as much as he probably should. Whenever he tries to picture the possible consequences of being this careless, he blanks. He can’t think of any downsides while he’s submerged in such aeonian bliss.
If anything, consequences be damned. Epel’s old enough to make out with his boyfriend whenever the fuck he wants.
“Riddle…” he murmurs.
“Hm?”
He hums slowly in reply, his hands curling into Riddle’s. “... Nothing,” he says. “Just wanted to call you… Your name’s real pretty, y’know.”
Nothing is sweeter than the syllables of his name melting on his tongue, akin to a rattle of bird cages or chess pieces jostling inside their case. Again, he thinks of spring. Of strawberries. A deluge of rosemary and chamomile.
More importantly, Riddle seems to like it when he calls him. That one little utterance alone has tinted the tips of his ears cherry-red.
So he does it again, feeling cheeky even as Riddle’s name leaves his lips breathier than before. “Riddle…” he croons.
A soft sigh fans over his heated skin. “Yes, love?” Riddle comes up to peck the tip of his nose, smiling amusedly when he scrunches his face up at the contact.
“I gotta say, I dunno what kinda keywords you had to look up to figure out how to do all this stuff,” he says, slipping his hand out of Riddle’s to graze over the marks, “but… it’s definitely a good one. Who knew you had it in you, huh?” he teases, reaching up to comb his hand through Riddle’s hair before grabbing his ribbon and dragging him back down for a slow kiss.
Riddle hums. “You think I’d try and do this unprepared? I’m not a fool,” he murmurs against his lips.
Epel smiles, eyes crinkling in delight. “I wouldn’t care even if you did. If I had to take the lead… I mean, ‘s not so different from how I kiss you, huh?”
“Mm, I suppose not.”
“Yeah… I like this too though.”
“Oh, evidently.”
“Hush your mouth!” Epel laughs and leans up to steal a quick kiss, his heart trilling in elation when Riddle reciprocates.
They exchange pecks like that for a while, changing angles and holds whenever they felt like it.
Coming down from such a vivid love-rush has never been so soft before.
Riddle cups his cheeks dearly and his eyes are curved in unmistakable fondness, and Epel’s entire being feels perfectly attuned to Riddle’s down to their very breaths, warm and tired from the constant banter and kissing.
This wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the rest of the day.