The feel of Lissington against him, so new and yet so achingly familiar, tugged at Basil’s heartstrings. Strings he wasn’t supposed to have laced that way to tug in the first place. The science and chemistry of it all still baffled Basil; it wasn’t… he couldn’t… and yet, here he was feeling all these wretchedly provoking emotions that made him want to stick his head in the sand and never come out again, and simultaneously give everything over to Lissing and not look back. Cloudy minded and feeling much too content to possibly care at the moment however, Basil felt a little thrill run up and down his spine.Lissing sighed against him then, allowing Basil entry into his mouth and it took everything in the brunette not to intrude like his life depended on it. He’d never thought himself a particularly skilled kisser, having often felt the need to practice before, and he was self-conscious now, rusty as he probably was. As an adult Basil supposed he knew better than to think it was difficult, but he still felt a touch on display. Hoping to compensate by tossing caution to the wind, he pressed his tongue urgently against the red-head’s. If there was one thing the brunette knew about himself it was his determination to take charge. His hand slid down from around Lissington’s neck and without thinking about what he was doing, Basil curled his fingers through the other’s belt loops. Then, jerking Lissing forward in a possessive little tug, he felt his urgency escalate. There was something almost finite about this moment. It was fragile: a bubble growing around their heads ready to burst at any moment.
In truth, the haziness from alcohol intermingling with the headiness of having Lissington - Gus - here, beside him, touching him, snogging him, made Basil dizzy. He wasn’t sure which side was up and a lack of breath certainly didn’t help. He felt a long since buried something unfurl in his gut, tugging at his libido in a way that was startling. Reluctantly, and rather abruptly, Basil broke contact.
“Gus…” the name was strangled between soft pants and the wretched haziness he could still feel. Grey eyes screwed shut for a minute and Basil almost wished that upon opening them he’d be alone in his own room, dreaming. Not because he particularly had regrets but… only because the reality was so complicated. He stared into bright baby blues with so much emotion, so much need in his own, that it took a moment for him to come back into himself. Bloody Lissington and his bloody handsome self.