The heart can discern so many kinds of kisses. From the pivotal first peck to the hungry warm urgency that punctuates a tryst. A kiss is a singular bond, a crystallized moment that embodies the relationship of the kisser to the kissed. In a world where words are so easily misconstrued, kisses are eloquent.

Soft and reassuring as butterscotch, a kiss nourishes and warms the soul. It is a confection that never grows tiresome. And when it is over, it lingers on the lips and lives in memory.

Talking about kissing is like humming about fire. Words are insufficient to describe the experience. Still we try, because kissing is and experience we must share!

-The Kiss

.The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship more strongly than even the final surrender. Because this kiss already has within it that surrender.

Blue eyes dance with joy, shadow with doubt. "Xan?" whispered plea.

Brown eyes flicker like a deer caught. "Yeah?" cries for mercy.

"I…" then the time for words has passed. Lips and tongues and hearts collide. White electric shocks skitter across their flesh. Tiny whimpers and heated mewls fill the air. Trying to climb inside each other. Tasting fear and hunger and loss. Until air becomes a priority for one of them. Brown eyes turn to lust dark black. Blue eyes flicker gold.

"I…" gasping, panting, needing.

"Yeah, pet. I know."

"Can we?"

"Yeah" and kiss again.

The first kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female reptile, implying in a subtle, complimentary way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before.
-F Scott Fitzgerald.

The dance was ancient, thoughtless. Like prehistoric serpents writhing on satin sheets. Tongues fucking, cocks fucking. Love words dripping like primordial ooze. The night air was compliant to their passion, turning thick and sultry from the summer heat. Sweat and blood run together, slicking backs and bellies and hands. Roll and pin, roll and pin. Laughter and soft touches break the eternal fight for dominance. Long brown legs wrap around a slim waist, he burrows deep into his mate. Pounding rhythms, like ocean waves, wax and wane. Orgasms crashing over them, washing through their limbs. Complete.



That farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.
-George Eliot

"You could stay." Soft tongue flickering against softer lips.

"Can't, pet. Sunlight and all that." Subtle retreat.

"Stay all day?" talented fingers trip up ivory skin.

"Sorry, luv. Things to do." Rustle of clothing being donned.

"So…this is goodbye then?" quiet sound of a heart shattering.

"No, pet." Sweet and tender and full of promise. "This is me, going to fix stuff. This is you, going to work. Give us a kiss for luck." Full of quiet desperation, hope for the future. Lips and tongue and teeth caress.

"Be ready to leave when I get back."

"For where?

"For home."

Give us a kiss, and to that kiss a score; then to that twenty, and a hundred more; a thousand to that hundred; so kiss on. To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, lets kiss afresh, as when we first begun.
-Robert Herrick.

"Well, pet. Whatcha think?" Spike's eyes dance with joy.

"I like it. Where are we?" Xander's eyes are hazy with confusion.

"Home." Such a simple word.


"Ours, daft git."

"And I want to live with you because?"

"You're mine. I keep what's mine close."

"You could have asked."

"Do I need to?"



"For once in my life, I would like some kind of option."

"Fine. Do you wanna move in with me?"

"Are we gonna live in the crypt?"

"Does this look like the crypt to you?"

"Ok." Brown eyes crinkle with laughter.

"Daft git." He smiles.

The End

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