Spitfire blinked a little at that, a hand raising to touch his cheek where the little kiss had been deposited. Was that all? How oddly cute. The man almost reminded him of an awkward high-school boy.
"Hmm, touche," murmured the red-head, stepping back to gaze at the silver-haired man in an appraising sort of way. Sizing up the competition? Perhaps. "If I remember correctly, the red-haired devil made no specifications either."
A wide, wicked grin spreading across his face, Spitfire advanced forward, reaching out to place expert hands on the Crocodile's shoulders. Giving the man a light push, he began moving forward, closing the distance between them with an unnerving swiftness. He was the goddamn Flame King. He never got rusty.
"If I may, m'lady," he murmured, face inches away from the other man's. His voice was low, a definite, almost saucy purr. Suggestive? Hell yes. Rather than allow the pretty damsel to squirm a moment longer, Spitfire moved in. Leaning forward, he caught the other man's lips in his own in a most heated, rightfully improper kiss. Complete with complimentary tongue.