Send me ‘I want the K’ and I’ll use a number generator to write a drabble about my muse kissing your muse
15. The Biting Kiss:
The biting kiss is a more aggressive form of the French kiss. Like the French kiss, it’s open-mouthed and incorporates tongue, but as you pull back, your teeth lightly grab onto your sweetie’s tongue for just a second. Try it once and see how your partner responds. Some people love it, but others think it’s painful or weird.
[ I changed it a teeny tiny bit because the idea of biting someone’s tongue just felt a bit weird to me so yeah ]
If there was one thing Michael had never done, it was take Dean back to his. His family were deeply religious, and while he knew Lucifer and Gabriel likely wouldn’t care, Dad and Raphael had never really voiced their opinions on the subject but Michael couldn’t help but assume they wouldn’t approve. So the two of them stuck to rushed kisses in the hallways between classes, hands brushing against each other when they didn’t have enough time to greet each other properly, and sometimes they just made out in the back of Dean’s car.
Sure, Michael had had Dean over plenty of times, but he never hinted at their relationship being anything more than platonic; not when Dad or Raphael might see. It was no different today, except Michael had planned this day very carefully. His family were always out of the house at different times on different days but today, by some kind of divine magic – and he reasoned it must have been divine because he had selfishly been praying for it – everyone was out. Dad was doing something for work, Gabriel and Lucifer were no doubt causing trouble at the mall, and Raphael was likely at one of his extracurricular classes. The house was empty, save for the two teens, but Michael was still nervous.
The two of them were sat on his bed like they usually did, homework sprawled out across the bed in front of Michael, but he ignored it for now, despite the niggling urge telling him to do it first and then carry out his master plan. He moved silently and unannounced into Dean’s lap, knees resting either side of his hips, and distracting him from whatever it was he was doing – homework, Michael had first thought, but when had Dean ever been the type to do homework? – hands ghosting up Dean’s torso nervously before he hooked his arms around Dean’s neck.
His lips grazed Dean’s lightly, before plunging into a kiss, hands moving to tangle in Dean’s short hair. Michael had gotten more used to initiating things now the initial nervousness had worn off, now that he knew Dean was well and truly his – though he hadn’t told Dean how possessive he got when he saw other people checking him out – that it was almost as easy as breathing when he parted Dean’s lips tentatively with his tongue. It was in moments like this that Michael often found himself pulling away, too consumed by the what ifs to derive any real enjoyment out of it; what if he had bad breath? What if he was using too much tongue? What if he wasn’t using enough tongue? But this time he was determined not to ease off until their lips were sore and swollen from their kisses, their pulses raised and lust beginning to seep through their systems.
His plan, however, was cut short when he heard the front door open barely ten minutes later. Michael knew he should stop, just in case it was Raphael or their father, but he couldn’t bring himself to, each attempt at pulling away resulting in another rushed, chaste kiss. The sound of footsteps trudging up the stairs was what finally urged him to cover his tracks, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip as he pulled away, hoping he’d given the other boy something to remember later that night.