The pretend king held his arms open to welcome Charlie, grinning shyly as the initiate settled right in. He (or perhaps just the alcohol) slowly let the sensation of Charlie's lips wash over him, the sigh sending a chill like a wave through him. It was a foreign sensation, but one that was greeted with quickly mounting enthusiasm. Charlie seemed to be having a little trouble reaching, so John took care of it first by leaning over and putting the palm of his hand to Charlie's cheek, then as that didn't seem to do it remedied it completely by sweeping over him in one fluid motion, grasping the smaller man with an arm around the small of his back and bending him over into a steep dip. Speed and determination (and Charlie's sturdier, less intoxicated form) helped him to stay up. His lips crashed onto Charlie's, his tongue breaking the threshold of his mouth and plundered it thoroughly. The hand that had been on the actor's cheek began to stray, gliding down his side until it found its way onto his rear and gave it a roguish squeeze.
Kissing was decidedly fun. Hopefully no one would remind the sober John of that fact tomorrow, lest he melt into the ground and die. Exhausted and satisfied at having thoroughly pawed the initiate, John helped him right himself and stepped back with a hard breath.
He felt he ought to say something, so he decided on, "Thanks for that," and giggled stupidly.