Work Text:
Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someone’s lips.
No matter how hard you try, you just can't stop staring.
It's been this way since you met V. The first thing you noticed was his eyes (so green, so beautiful ), then you looked down a little and saw those irresistible lips, and much to your own consternation, you were immediately lost. It doesn't matter whether he's talking, whether he's silent, moving or still, awake or asleep (and you will never, ever admit you've watched him when he's taken the time to steal a few short naps in between jobs) - his lips are unfairly attractive, and dammit they're right there, and it's not the worst thing you could be staring at.
Or so you keep telling yourself, anyway, and it's not wrong, is it?
You exhale a quiet sigh, lean forward and prop your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your hands, a position that at least lets you pretend you're looking off into the distance and not at him as he turns the pages of his book. (It seems to fool everyone else whenever you do it, at least, and that's all you want, even if the two of you are alone right now and there's no one to potentially call you out on where you're actually looking.) He's reciting silently to himself again, a habit you've noticed he has whenever the atmosphere's grown peaceful and quiet, and you feel like you're being lulled into a trance as you watch him form voiceless words, the occasional flicker of tongue making his lips gleam attractively under the fluorescent lights and stirring an aching urge in the back of your mind. If only you could just - get closer, touch his lips, taste them, if only if only if only--
You aren't expecting him to actually say anything out loud, and when he does, lifting his head to slant you a sideways glance, it makes you jump in surprise. "My eyes," it's smooth, low, and full of a warm amusement that is the only reason you don't immediately turn a shade of red not found in nature and try to hide under the table, "are up here, you know. Don't think I haven't noticed you staring."
Now you're blushing, so brilliantly you can feel the heat creeping up your ears and down your neck, and you really mean to give a proper response but all you can do is stammer. "I-I - er--"
"I suppose it can't be helped." The book snaps shut and V heaves a theatrical sigh, straightening from where he's leant against the small stove, turning to face you fully, and gods above the smirk on those delicious lips of his is completely unfair. "It is only natural for someone to be curious about something they haven't ever had a chance to experience before. Perhaps if you were allowed to satisfy your curiosity..." he takes a step closer, then another, and another, and that's enough to close the distance between you, his hands planting firmly on the table for balance as he leans down to look into your eyes. "That would help, would it not?"
(He's so close, damn it, so close, those lips are right there and oh gods how are you supposed to resist that--)
"Very well," he says with another exaggerated sigh, breath warm on your lips, and lifts a hand, tipping your face up just a little with a fingertip under your chin. "Go on, then."
His lips meet yours almost before he's finished speaking, and all you can think is that all of the silent admiration has been entirely worth it.