Warning.

The logical side of his brain is alerting him of the danger—but the rest of him is not listening.

He is lost, stuck in the labyrinth of the other’s scent, taste, touch, and movement—he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn’t need sight when his other senses are already too overwhelmed.

His breathing is heavy, his head is getting lighter due to lack of oxygen but the other isn’t willing to stop—truth is, neither does he.

How did this start? They went for a drink, they drank too much—they lost all their inhibitions

“I lo—“the other tries to say in the midst of battling tongues and exploring hands.

“Don’t,” he breathes, panting heavily, cutting the confession before it was out.

He doesn’t want to hear, he doesn’t want to know—he only wants to feel. He doesn’t need the words, he doesn’t need the complications—his life would be easier if he could write this off as another drunken mistake.

“But…” the other tries to argue.

“No. Please just kiss me…” he begs, soft lips already feeling lonely.

The other gives up and obliges, deciding to wait for another chance he wouldn’t give.

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