THE KISS CHALLENGE

EXCERPT FROM THE CLASSIC SERIES

BY CYRL

Rated PG-13 cuz it's just a kiss <bg>

Disclaimer: We don't own the Boys, wish we did. We'd take a whole hell of a lot better
care of them than TPTP Rysher and Panzer/Davis and Widen <sigh>.

Catagory: This is M/M slash

Rating: PG-13 .. well, what did you expect?

Summary: it's just a kiss . . .

Note: I wrote for our writer's challenge on my list. Warning guys, it's M/M slash, won't tell you
who, though, cuz that's a surprise <smirk>. The challenge for this month was to write the most passionate kiss you could come up with. Here is our offer

THE KISS CHALLENGE
EXCERPT FROM THE CLASSIC SERIES
BY CYRL

He stood up and strode out to the porch. He couldn't believe it. What in God's name was he thinking of? They were blood brothers, true, but where was this other feeling coming from? It couldn't possibly be what he thought it was...He was straight for godsakes! He was happily married! Shawn gave him everything he needed...Interrupting his reverie was a strong hand gripping his shoulder.

"Brother? Are you alright?" The hand pulled on his shoulder, turning him around and concerned blue eyes gripped his own. He stared down into his "brother's" eyes, the intensity of the gaze once again thrilling him to the core. "I....." His eyes strayed down to the firm lips, just a hint of beard stubble framing them. His entire being wanted just one thing, that which he had been always taught was forbidden. He licked his lips unconsciously. The other man's pupils widened in reaction to the erotic gesture and his lips parted slightly.

The second man moved just a bit closer, caught up in the moment...He hesitated for just one moment. What if he was rejected? Would it irreparably damage their relationship? Surely, after almost 500 years, his brother had experienced this kind of love...When he was still relatively young, the term was shield brothers. Two men who shared everything, life, love, war and ultimately death. Did his brother want that? He stared into the bright blue eyes gazing down at him. His hand strayed to the nape of his neck, exploring carefully, waiting for any signal that the touch was unwelcome. "Connor" he growled. "Brother" and gently drew the head in his hand down to his own.

The first man, Connor, felt the gentle urging of his brothers hand. Was it really what he thought it was? Oh god, he couldn't believe it, but was impelled by some inner instinct that drew him down. Closer and closer he leaned down. His own hands, without any conscious thought, rose up to rest on the broad shoulders in front of him. He had seen his brother in various stages of undress during their regular workout sessions, but had never realized until this moment, how much erotic power lay within those muscles that now lay under his fingertips. He could now see how and why the women reacted as strongly as they did, when they watched their husbands spar.

Closer and closer the lips approached one another, the shorter man gently urging, Connor following his guidance. Connor's brother began to see the porch light reflect off the light growth of beard. The blond hair seemed to sparkle. His own tongue lightly moistened his lips in anticipation. He, too, had only now noticed the lean, untamed power of the man before him.

Their breathing increased as the air between them became shared air. Connor could smell the aged scotch on his brother's breath, a drink that they had in common. Connor gasped as their lips finally brushed one another. Oh, god, he couldn't believe how bad the throb in his groin had gotten.

The shorter man gasped as their lips finally touched. The electricity flying between him and his brother was a rare and precious thing. Could they become shield brothers, sharing their lives, beds, and eventually death? Was this too much to hope for after four millennia? He pulled Connor closer still as he snaked out his tongue to taste the man that had grown to mean everything to him.

Scotch and tobacco and spice, Connor thought. He could taste the orient, the desert, all of the million places that his brother had seen, the millennia that he had experienced. He bagan to lose himself in the tastes, the images...His tongue tentatively extended, carefully tasting, testing. He
could feel the scrape of beard against his own, and he tightened his grip on the shoulders before him, in a attempt to draw their bodies closer. He desparately needed to be closer...

The slighter man opened up his mouth under the assault with relief. He could taste the Highlands as sure as Connor could taste the desert. Scotch and heather, the smoke from a fireplace, oat butties... His tongue plunged deeper, drawing out not only the passion but his brother's soul. He captured Connor's groan in his mouth, smiling to himself. But when Connor's tongue aswered the assault by plunging just as deep, the smile turned into a burst of need that left him panting.

Craving air, they broke the kiss, blue eyes dark and glazed with passion meeting. Connor's hand moved to the back of his brother's neck and pulled him back for more, the burn in him cancelling out his need for air. This time the kiss was hard, bordering on brutal, and their lips met with teeth as well. Small cuts appeared on their lips, the pain doing nothing to lessen their
ardor.

Connor could taste the blood and feel the warmth of it. He groaned again, thankful that this man, his brother, was Immortal and would heal just as he himself would. Their tongues danced and fought for sensation, grasping in need for the essence of the other man. Connor's arm wrapped around the other man, pulling him closer still, brushing their throbbing erections against each other and fanning the inferno that was threatening to overwhelm Connor.

The darker man tasted the blood, too, something that never failed to add a dimension to his lust, but something he steeled himself against with his own wife, a mortal. He relished it and was even more surprised when Connor deepened the kiss to capture the blood himself.

Their lips ground together. Small sparks ignited in the night, blue flashes of healing appearing, the small wounds healing almost as suddenly as they appeared. Their bodies were clasped together, searching for even greater contact, for the quenching of this fire they had ignited. Lost in this incredible overload of sensation, they did not hear the opening of the porch door.

A feminine voice softly gasped. "Connor? Kronos?"

Finis
(for now)