A/N: This is the result of reading way too many Romance fics.. Totally pointless, fluff filled fic.. or something like that..
"So I hear that you write now," he casually brought up one evening.
"Yeah, what of it?" I replied, feigning indifference.
"I just wanna know if I could read some of your infamous works," he replied, shrugging one shoulder casually.
"Yeah," I tossed the brown leather book, filled with intricately woven designs, at him, "Feel free to read whichever."
He caught it with practised ease and began to nonchalantly flip through the pages filled with my utmost thoughts and desires.
"Not bad slick," he nodded with appreciation, "But I think you need to work on your kissing scene. It just feels..unrealistic."
"Well excuse me for lacking experience in that department," I replied, venom lacing my words. "It's not like I go around swaping spit with everyone I know," I mumbled quietly, turning around so as not to have to face him. Seconds ticked by before he spoke again.
"Maybe I could help you improve on your writing skills," he whispered, his hot breath tickling my neck. My eyes widened in shock and I swiftly turned my head to look back at him, noting that his light brown eyes held a twinkle of mischief in them that made a shiver run down my spine. I could only gape as he slowly leaned in closer to me, my mind and body going numb as a result of this intimacy being openly displayed. A ghost of a smile lingered on his face before he gently pressed his lips against mine. My mouth moved of its own accord as he coaxed me into relaxing. Our lips moved against each other in soft but firm movements. He licked my bottom lip tentatively, asking for entrance. I granted him one soon enough, unable to keep myself from smiling. A feeling of euphoria spread over my body as we battled for dominance of the kiss, our tongues dancing gracefully with each other. My hands wove its way around his mid-drift and up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric found there. His own hands placed itself firmly on my waist, using it as leverage to haul me onto his lap. Soon enough, the need for oxygen made us part reluctantly.
Feeling light-headed, whether it was because of the lack of oxygen reaching my brain or because of the kiss, I remained stationary where I was. For his part, he seemed to be content with just leaving his hands where they were, pressing our foreheads together. Our breaths mingled as we sat there staring dazedly at each other.
Reality eventually made its presence known and I blinked multiple times in shock of what I had just done. He interupted me, however, before I could pull away or even utter a single sound.
"Now you could write that kissing scene of yours better," he stated, a smug grin placing itself on his angular face. Feeling coy myself, I put on a thoughtful look, bringing my right hand under my chin, and began to stroke an invisible beard.
"I suppose," I began, my lips twisting itself to form a smirk, "But perhaps you should teach me one more time just to be sure."
This seems so cheesy..