Truth or Dare

A more pleasant memory I found in the drafts. From Gabriel's POV.

“I dare you to kiss me.” I tried to keep my face relaxed, features blank. There were too many emotions struggling underneath; Peter didn’t need to know about any of them. Hope was the most sickening, but self-loathing gave it a run for its money. A kiss was a small thing, easy, almost insignificant, but would Peter do it? Was he willing to get that close?

After a long beat, Peter shrugged and leaned forward. “Sure.” He put his elbows on the desk between them and extended his hands. “Stick out your hand.”

I snorted disdainfully. “I meant a real kiss.” Not my hand, moron. Angry, on edge, already anticipating being turned down, my lips pressed into a thin line despite my best efforts to hide my expression. I watched as Peter thought it over. Amazingly, Peter was thinking it over and not dismissing out of hand. Of course, dismissing would mean he’d lose the game and Peter was more competitive than he liked to admit.

Peter made a sharp exhale, really studying my face, eyes going over every part of it. I wondered if he was picking where to plant his lips, or deciding if it was a face comely enough to do it with. Was he reading how badly I wanted this? The long pause left me desperate to fidget, feeling i was being inspected, weighed, and- Peter got up, coming around the desk. Obviously, a decision had been reached.

I tilted my head up as he approached. He’s going to do it? My mouth relaxed, tension dialing back as relief rose inside of me and hope started to win out. I suppose it would be bad form to hang onto him and get a proper kiss. Plus he’d probably hit me. But would it be worth it?

“Closed mouth,” Peter said, leaving me to wonder if that was a question or a statement of intention. And whose mouth needed to be closed? The idea that I might have gotten some tongue if I'd only worded my dare more explicitly was maddening. I was distracted from it soon enough. Peter’s right hand came down on my right knee, on the top at first but then immediately sliding in … and up. I glanced down quickly, but there wasn’t time to react. Peter’s left hand came to rest on my right shoulder, giving him balance as he leaned in.

He’s definitely doing it. My eyes widened dramatically as the reality and immediacy of it hit me. Peter’s scent wafted ahead of me, an air so delicious I wanted to drink it in. Mere lungfuls didn’t do it justice; I wanted it distilled in liquid form. Peter paused in front of me, head tilted, only an inch or two away. While I wanted to lunge forward and take what was on offer, I held my place. I wanted no question of who initiated and I didn’t want to look as ridiculously eager as I really was. It was only going to be a peck, I knew.

Peter’s lips moved, loosening, protruding more; he was puckering up. His left hand glided up the slope of my shoulder to the back of my neck, fingers shifting to cup my head. The right settled slightly, bearing a tiny bit of weight. Peter closed that last distance between us, eyes sliding shut as his lips pressed gently into mine. I inhaled deeply, keeping my own eyes open. I wanted to see this, start to finish, no matter how brief it was.

It wasn’t brief. Peter’s lips pulsed against mine, warm and soft and human. Erotic energy flowed all up and down my spine; I felt my cock throb. My heart was racing all of a sudden. Peter wasn’t making this a fleeting thing; he was actually, really kissing me. Peter’s lips made one full motion against my still ones, then he repeated it once, twice, then thrice – taking his time about it. Both of his hands moved – a slight stroking of my scalp; small circles on my inner thigh. 

Peter pulled away only enough to part us, eyes opening before he came back for one last kiss. There was not a hint of revulsion, hesitance, or regret on his features. Mine, on the contrary, were stunned. I'd sat there unmoving, not participating, hardly even breathing the whole time. Floored was an understatement. That was everything I'd wanted and I'd just been given the tiniest sample. Hunger, lust, and desire roared to full life as Peter pulled away, leaving behind only a hot puff of breath to caress my lips. MORE! My brain screamed at me.

My fingers scrabbled at Peter’s arm, halting his departure. Peter looked back at me and smiled, smug at the degree of reaction he’d engendered. “That was a real kiss.” As he pulled himself free of my grip and returned to the other side of the desk, self-loathing loomed larger than every other emotion I had at the moment. Peter knew what he was denying him. That small taste of heaven reminded me that this really was hell.