of smiles and scowls.
day five – kissing.
Koizumi's lips were never gentle.
Try as he might to mask the crackled canyons on pink lips and masculine face with full, fluffed hair, Koizumi was not a woman. He lacked the gentle , serene purity that a virgin girl held in her grace – he was too jaded, too harsh. He could not be held delicately; he, after all, could not shatter with a mere brush of Kyon's fingers. While quieter than Haruhi, perhaps, Koizumi was still a man – with his toned chest, sinewy arms, and sharp tongue.
And when Koizumi kissed him – when he violated every strand of thought that Kyon drew tight in his brain – his lips were not quivering as Haruhi's had been or as sweet as he imagined Asahina's to be. Koizumi was raw – and his lips, usually fashioned in a fake smile, held a cold truth to them that Kyon could only read when they were pressed to his. And that touch, that rough nip of the lips that swallowed and melted him, held so many words that neither of them knew how to phrase.
Koizumi would peck him on the cheek and on the forehead on occasion, but even such fleeting moments would still sting Kyon's skin. Men were toxic creatures, he supposed. It was his fault for dating one. But it wasn't an unpleasant sting; it felt fulfilling, true. He only ached for more.
"I'm sorry; I went too far again, didn't I…?" Koizumi would often apologize after he had kissed Kyon's lips to a swollen, vibrant red.
After a gasp and a gulp, Kyon would only glower at him. "You kill the mood every time you ask that," he'd breathe.
And Koizumi would prod at the other with his tongue once more, suckling on Kyon's bottom lip and breaking the skin by mistake. But it didn't matter; Kyon's mind was clouded with lust and his judgments were foggy. He only focused on Koizumi's lips moving against his, never tender but always ardent.