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I want to learn more about you. tell me about your first kiss. was it special?

Fuck fuck fuck.

My first kiss.

My only kiss.

Was Lucien.

It was at the Culloden party when I fell onto his lap. I was so drunk I could barely process what was happening before I stumbled away humiliated. I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her it was a guy. I can’t tell her it was pathetic and barely even counts as a kiss because it really wasn’t one. It was just his lips touching mine as casual as when shoulders touch in a crowded hallway. But it sent a signal to my brain that I can’t forget, a secret message I couldn’t quite decipher.

I close my eyes, trying to think of what to tell Gwen. What would I have wanted for my first kiss?

I’m shocked by how fast the fantasy forms, by how vivid it is. In my mind, I’m back on that couch at Culloden. But this time, when I fall onto Lucien’s lap, I don’t slide away.

This time, his hands come up to my hips and spin me around, steadying me. He secures me there.

“Stay,” he says, his voice elegant with an edge, and it really sounds like him.

I do what he says.

I straddle him properly, my thighs on either side of his, and now his chest is bare and perfectly toned, and I can feel the heat of his skin even through my jeans.

His hands slide up my sides until they’re in my hair and my body lights up from my head to my curling toes.

He pulls me down.

Our mouths meet, and it’s nothing like what really happened. This time, Lucien parts my lips with his tongue, patient but hungry, and I open for him immediately. The plunge into his mouth is sweet and all-consuming. I taste the whisky on both of us, and I drink him in. It’s intoxicating, and all my feelings of embarrassment melt away.

His scent surrounds me. That aroma I remember from every time he’s been close enough to breathe in. It’s too real. So real that tears prick the corners of my eyes and I squeeze them shut tighter, desperate to stay in the fantasy.

My hips start moving on their own, rocking against him, and I can feel the massive bulge in his jeans pressing against me.

God.

I kiss him harder, greedier, my hands gripping his shoulders as I bounce in his lap, chasing the friction. His hands tighten in my hair, controlling the angle of the kiss, and I let him. I let him do whatever he wants.

The hunger hurts. It physically hurts how much I want this.

And then Lucien takes over completely.

He turns me, flipping me onto my back on the couch without breaking the kiss, and suddenly, he’s between my legs, grinding against me with a delicious pressure.

I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his tongue stroking mine as his hips roll and⁠—

My phone pings.

My eyes snap open.

I’m alone in my bed, hard again, tears wet on my cheeks.

Shit.

I wipe them away quickly.

Cameron?

my first kiss wasn’t anything special