Re: Quiet Home: Misha & Oliver
Oliver wasn't the sort that had the usual kind of reasoning as to whether something was good or bad. He didn't think in terms of sin or morality, none of that had ever been a factor in the kind of place where he'd grown up. There'd been a lot more instruction toward the opposite, really. But he wasn't a child criminal anymore, just a sometimes criminal, and even that took a backseat to more interesting pursuits, like art. It was way more up his brother's alley to worry about the smaller details, like money. Of course, Oliver understood the difference between right and wrong, now that he was an adult. But those things didn't entirely govern his decision making, it was more about what felt right or felt wrong.
And this felt right.
The kiss was chaste, even with slow dips of tongue. Maybe because it didn't feel like it had to be anything more than a kiss. That was probably naive, as the more critical and 'on' part of his brain told him, although that was squashed just a little when Misha asked if touching his hips was okay. It only seemed fair, seeing as how Oliver's fingers were getting slowly knotted into the fabric of Misha's shirt.
Normally, Oliver might have had to of thought about it more, but all of his thinking was pleasantly blurred right now, better focused on the feeling of Crazy's mouth as kisses were dotted briefly down his jaw and then back up again. That made his shoulders shrug up a little bit, tight while it felt like gravity dropped through his stomach, rollercoaster-excited and settling somewhere lower. He pulled, just a little, on the front of Misha's shirt.
The kiss came back to his mouth while Oliver was still struggling to process language and words and whatever Misha had just asked him. Oh yeah, if this was okay. "Mhm," he mumbled, not quite trusting his voice, but then finding the words anyway. "I mean… its fine." Although he wasn't really sure that fine was the kind of word that fit situations like this.