[ He isn't quiet, exactly, but he doesn't interject again before Len's lips are on his. It's the way he always imagines it, warm and sweet and not exactly soft, Len's lips a little chapped and his stubble a close kept but slightly unkempt bristle framing them. Perfect, really, as far as imaginary first kisses go.
Arcade reaches for him blindly, because by now his eyes have slipped shut, his hand missing Len's shoulder by a mile as he accidentally hooks his fingers in the open collar of one among many rumpled and perpetually half-unbuttoned shirts. He adapts, though, pressing the momentary advantage and pulling Len closer, rolling back onto a hip and slipping his other arm under Len's and around his back. ]
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Arcade reaches for him blindly, because by now his eyes have slipped shut, his hand missing Len's shoulder by a mile as he accidentally hooks his fingers in the open collar of one among many rumpled and perpetually half-unbuttoned shirts. He adapts, though, pressing the momentary advantage and pulling Len closer, rolling back onto a hip and slipping his other arm under Len's and around his back. ]