I have no boy kissing icons.
If the music was still audible, Wes couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything, in fact, over the loud thumping of his heartbeat. Not his own voice. Not Ariel's, though he wasn't talking. Not even his own internal thoughts. Just the frantic thump, thump, thump of his overexcited ticker. He wouldn't have been surprised if the older boy in front of him could hear it, too. It was practically jumping out of his chest. It was making Wes feel ill, but he was too curious to see where things were headed to try and stop it.
If would have been all for nothing, though. Even if he'd managed to somehow slow his accelerated beating, it would have sped back up again at the gentle touch of Ariel's lips against his own. He sucked in his breath so sharply then, that he had to turn his head and cough. It reflected nothing on the singer, though. And he turned back quickly, to grasp Ariel's biceps in his hands to hold him there. It had been unexpected, sure. But not unpleasant. And he wanted to try it again. Yes, he definitely wanted to try it again.
A quick glance toward the door told him that no one was coming, or would come in the next few minutes. They were virtually alone, secluded in this storage room, that Wes had no idea was decorated so tacky. He didn't have an eye for that sort of thing, anyway. So, even if he could see the color of the wall, he wouldn't have realized it was ugly. Either way, though, the door. There was no one lurking behind it.
He held onto Ariel tight, and a little awkwardly. But that was Wes. He was awkward. "Sorry," he mumbled, before it was his turn to close the gap, dip his head and boldly press his own lips against the older boy's. His touch was a bit firmer, but he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to kiss him that badly, because he was too drunk to realize that he should have been more tentative, or a combination of both.