[Hotel rooms always carry a twinge of nostalgia, of sweet strangeness - something that he'd become exhaustively familiar with, then sure he'd never seen again, then again rediscovered in such a literally alien context that almost everything that happens in them happens in a skewed, exciting light. Clean and anonymous and convenient, and it's such a contrast to Felix there, soft-edged in the half-light just inside the door. Felix who at some point has moved from surface-smooth ease to the warm rough-textured familiarity, to the place where it's easy to catch that greeting and laugh a little more coarsely. More derision, but more affection too, more self-effacing concession that he actually loves that cheesy, terrible bullshit and he's so relaxed and lost in loving that he even gets to see him like this that the kiss more or less catches him off guard. Which doesn't mean much more than that he lags a second before kissing back, laughs and mumbles around the edges warmly as the heels of his hands find Felix's hips.]
Hey.
[A shade of a tease in the echo, but then he's nuzzling past the kiss and into that soft, warm dark behind his jaw to kiss for a few lazily possessive seconds before murmuring with a smirk.]
no subject
Hey.
[A shade of a tease in the echo, but then he's nuzzling past the kiss and into that soft, warm dark behind his jaw to kiss for a few lazily possessive seconds before murmuring with a smirk.]
Good pickup line. Classic.