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kyberled · 6 years

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huntborn : (it’s nat’l kissing day so boba wants to smooch the hell out of braig r n)

To say he is thrilled would be an understatement. He didn’t even know there WAS a day for kisses. It wasn’t a Jedi thing to focus on, he supposed. But he’s going to return the affection just as eagerly. One hand goes to the back of Boba’s head, thumb brushing over the bristles of shaved-down hair; the other rests against his chest, before Braig decides it would be much better to wrap his arm around Boba’s waist, instead. The Force around him buzzes a giddy sort of contentment, flush with a warmth that’s matched by the heat rising to his cheeks.

(He worries, if he doesn’t hang on, his legs will stop working. It’s rather difficult to think too much about standing, at times like these, when there are so much more important matters at hand - like how sturdy Boba feels against him, how he smells a bit like spiced tea and a bit like leather and a bit like soap and maybe a little bit like blaster-polish too; like how safe his arms seemed and the way his breath, soft exhales through his nose, tickled against Braig’s cheek and vanished against the stretch of scar tissue, like how even with his eyes closed Braig could tell that there would be the faintest furrow to his brow and how he must have been chewing at his lip again, with how rough the skin was, but it was so familiar it was almost comforting, like how he can feel his own heartbeat against his ribs and wonders if they’re close enough that perhaps Boba can feel it, too. Yes, far more important things to concern himself with.)

Of course, even those things become difficult to focus on as the kisses continue; eventually (regrettably) Braig is reminded that he needs to breathe, and maybe hasn’t been doing the best job of that (again, more important things). There’s a soft noise of suction breaking when he finally pulls apart, drawing air into lungs that seemed far too demanding for how little time they’d spent being denied (he thought it had only been a little, at least. Perhaps not), though he keeps his eyes closed and rests his forehead against Boba’s, holding on all the tighter. It is still warm, it is still safe, and it is still home, and he wants to linger in the moment for as long as he can. It’s through his slowly steadying breath that he speaks, swallowing once to find his words and keeping his voice at a whisper - any louder would feel like sacrilege, like a blaspheme.

“Kiss me until I forget what war tastes like.”

#huntborn #l i s t e n i dont know what this is #all i know is it's 2 in the morning and he's been wanting kisses for AGES so he wants to lap this up and also he is apparently sappy as hel #i dont even know what verse this is hes just really excited for kisses and #????????? idk this is gay as fuck #Anonymous #I NEED KISSING ICONS GODDAMNIT #&& as best i can; answers #&& best foot forward; ic #&& worth the risk; braiba #&& lawless abandon; rogue #sure

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