And then there was porn
Ted tastes like cheesesteak with lots of peppers.
They’re at lunch, jammed into a booth with sticky-taped fake-leather seats and kicking each other under the table, and right before Booster kisses him he swallows a huge mouthful of his sandwich. There’s a smear of grease on his chin, and something is caught in his teeth, and his breath smells strongly of onions.
It’s poor planning on Booster’s part, or rather no planning at all, because he doesn’t know he’s going to kiss Ted until his tongue is already in Ted’s mouth. He’s never thought about kissing Ted before, and there’s nothing to make today any different than the last fifty times they’ve met up for lunch on their rare day off.
It’s just that while he is sitting in the booth drinking his milkshake and half-listening to Ted ramble about something science-y and brain-meltingly complex in between tearing into his sandwich like he’s spent the last week in a Bialyan prison, he has a moment of perfect, and jarring, clarity - he is watching Ted’s mouth. And the color of his lips, the faint creases at the corners, the way his tongue snakes out to catch a drip of cheese, the way he grimaces and grins as he speaks, it’s all familiar to him. So he’s been watching Ted’s mouth for a while.
Ted waves a hand, sketches an abstract shape in the air and slaps emphatically at the table to drive home whatever point he’s trying to make, and that’s familiar to Booster too, like the fit of his suit or the hum of Skeets over his shoulder. So he’s been watching all of Ted for a while, maybe, and what is a guy supposed to do with knowledge like that?
No one ever said Booster Gold was known for his calm rationality or good impulse control. And he’s never thought about kissing Ted before, but this is the first time he hasn’t thought about kissing him because he’s too busy doing it.
It’s not a great kiss. The edge of the table is digging into his stomach, and Ted’s nose gets in the way of things, and sometime soon he’s going to have to find a bathroom and brush his teeth because ew, onions. But. There’s something to be said for Ted’s mouth. And the soft squeak he makes when Booster first leans into him. And the truly impressive things he can do with his tongue, once he gives up being shocked and starts kissing back.
When Booster finally pulls back so he can breathe for a moment, Ted blinks several times, looks suspiciously at their food, like he thinks it might be drugged - wouldn’t be the first time - looks back at him.
“What was that about?” he asks. “Did that last villain sex-pollen you? I have an all-purpose antidote back in my lab if you’ve been sex-pollened, but -”
“There’s no sex pollen!” Booster interrupts. “Besides, you were kissing me back. With tongue, even!”
“…good point. My place?”
“Mine is closer,” Booster says, relieved. He has a serious vested interest in getting Ted somewhere nice and private, where there can be more kissing. Maybe some touching. Licking. Strategic grinding. Now that he’s thinking about it, he has plans.
“But hey,” he adds which Ted is signaling the waitress, trying not to look like he’s about to spring out of his seat so he can go home and make out with a hot blond. “Can we stop at the drugstore first, so I can buy you an extra toothbrush?”
They’re at lunch, jammed into a booth with sticky-taped fake-leather seats and kicking each other under the table, and right before Booster kisses him he swallows a huge mouthful of his sandwich. There’s a smear of grease on his chin, and something is caught in his teeth, and his breath smells strongly of onions.
It’s poor planning on Booster’s part, or rather no planning at all, because he doesn’t know he’s going to kiss Ted until his tongue is already in Ted’s mouth. He’s never thought about kissing Ted before, and there’s nothing to make today any different than the last fifty times they’ve met up for lunch on their rare day off.
It’s just that while he is sitting in the booth drinking his milkshake and half-listening to Ted ramble about something science-y and brain-meltingly complex in between tearing into his sandwich like he’s spent the last week in a Bialyan prison, he has a moment of perfect, and jarring, clarity - he is watching Ted’s mouth. And the color of his lips, the faint creases at the corners, the way his tongue snakes out to catch a drip of cheese, the way he grimaces and grins as he speaks, it’s all familiar to him. So he’s been watching Ted’s mouth for a while.
Ted waves a hand, sketches an abstract shape in the air and slaps emphatically at the table to drive home whatever point he’s trying to make, and that’s familiar to Booster too, like the fit of his suit or the hum of Skeets over his shoulder. So he’s been watching all of Ted for a while, maybe, and what is a guy supposed to do with knowledge like that?
No one ever said Booster Gold was known for his calm rationality or good impulse control. And he’s never thought about kissing Ted before, but this is the first time he hasn’t thought about kissing him because he’s too busy doing it.
It’s not a great kiss. The edge of the table is digging into his stomach, and Ted’s nose gets in the way of things, and sometime soon he’s going to have to find a bathroom and brush his teeth because ew, onions. But. There’s something to be said for Ted’s mouth. And the soft squeak he makes when Booster first leans into him. And the truly impressive things he can do with his tongue, once he gives up being shocked and starts kissing back.
When Booster finally pulls back so he can breathe for a moment, Ted blinks several times, looks suspiciously at their food, like he thinks it might be drugged - wouldn’t be the first time - looks back at him.
“What was that about?” he asks. “Did that last villain sex-pollen you? I have an all-purpose antidote back in my lab if you’ve been sex-pollened, but -”
“There’s no sex pollen!” Booster interrupts. “Besides, you were kissing me back. With tongue, even!”
“…good point. My place?”
“Mine is closer,” Booster says, relieved. He has a serious vested interest in getting Ted somewhere nice and private, where there can be more kissing. Maybe some touching. Licking. Strategic grinding. Now that he’s thinking about it, he has plans.
“But hey,” he adds which Ted is signaling the waitress, trying not to look like he’s about to spring out of his seat so he can go home and make out with a hot blond. “Can we stop at the drugstore first, so I can buy you an extra toothbrush?”