From the promt, number 12 "You need to stop.." With Connverse please<3
“Okay,” Steven said, picking up another flashcard, “what are the four lobes of the brain - ”
“Frontal, parietal, occipital, and temporal,” Connie answered before she even took a second to breathe. Meanwhile, her fingers rested on her temple.
She was leaning against her bed’s headboard while he rested by her feet, on his stomach. They were comfortable, relaxed in each other’s presence. It was hot for a spring day, and the Maheswaran household had a rule about using the AC before the summer months, so the pair wore their summer clothes: she wore running shorts and a tank top, while he still wore his iconic star shirt and shorts.
“That’s correct!” Steven said, thrilled and impressed, as he flipped over the flashcard.
Connie smiled as she watched him. “Thanks for helping me study for my final.” She took her AP Psychology final and her junior year of high school very seriously.
“You’re very welcome!” He said, straightening the cards in his hand. He looked up at her, smirking, “Though it doesn’t seem like you need my help.”
She smiled at his compliment but shook her head. “No, you’re really helping.”
“Okay, next question,” he looked down at the flashcard then back up at Connie to see if she was ready. She was holding both her temples.
“You okay?” He asked.
She looked surprised that he noticed, then she waved out her hand. “Just a headache. I’m fine.”
He set down the cards and propped up his body with his arms. “Maybe we should take a break.”
“No! Seriously, I’m fine.”
He pursed his lips. He propped himself to sit up. “I could help.”
She raised her eyebrows.
He pointed at his lips. “Healing spit.”
“Oh,” she said. She looked hesitant for a moment before nodding.
He got on all fours. He moved quickly, too quickly to think or plan the most comfortable option; he set his arm by her hip to steady himself, then he leaned over her body to reach her forehead. But just as quickly as he moved in, he licked his lips, kissed her forehead, then moved back to sit on his legs.
Immediately, her head felt better. She put her hand to her forehead. “Thanks, Steven.”
She chuckled as a question popped into her head. “Are all your kisses magical?”
He looked up, pondering. “I’m not sure.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What if you kissed places that didn’t need healing? Would nothing happen, or would like some super-healing thing happen? Would they be invincible for like a week?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. I figure out the magical stuff on kind of a case-by-case basis.”
Her face felt hot before she even spoke up. She thought about how close he had just been, leaning over her, and how soft his kiss was. She dared herself to whisper, “We could find out.”
His body tensed. He spoke slowly. “What do you mean?”
She tried to choose her words carefully. Her eyes darted from his face to looking up as she weighed each word. “We could see what happens when you kiss places that aren’t necessarily hurt.”
He was still frozen, so she said, “An experiment. For science.”
“Right,” he said, blinking his eyes. “For science. Maybe - we fight some monsters someday, and I need to know if I can use my healing spit as armor for my comrades.”
“Or! If your healing spit can work like a vaccine that can keep people from getting sick before they even get in contact with any germs?”
“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips again, “for science, then.”
As she moved down from the headboard and down to rest her head on her pillow, she said back, “For science.”
After a pause, he fidgeted with his hands. “I…I guess I can start with your toes.”
She felt a slight panic go through her core. She felt this panic whenever she couldn’t predict an outcome - this felt like a gamble, a million dollar bet on the underdog, as she wasn’t sure what to expect - or what could happen to her friendship with Steven.
But if her training had taught her anything, it was courage, confidence, that she could make a decision and follow through with it. Her panic subsided, and his lips pressed against her big toe.
She closed her eyes and felt his kisses move from her foot to her ankle. He moved up slowly, following a straight line up her left leg.
He took a breath at her knee, his nose touching her lower thigh.
She inhaled through her nose. She wondered what would happen now that he was moving to more sensitive skin, and his pause seemed to show he was wondering the same thing.
As he kissed up her thigh, the straight line curved: he found her inner thigh.
She breathed out. His kisses tickled her skin as his lips moved up her inner thigh.
He kissed at her lower stomach, just the visible skin where her shirt had ridden up. She pulled her shirt up a little, just enough to show her belly button, to give him more skin to kiss.
He moved from her stomach to her fingers that still rested on her shirt. He kissed up her wrist, up her forearm, her upperarm, and her shoulder.
He kissed her collar bone. “How does it feel?”
“Good,” she replied, nearly forgetting the hypothesis they were testing. She let out another breath as his lips moved up the side of her neck.
“Do you feel better? Any different?” He asked, sitting up.
She sat up, too, remembering the purpose now that she was out of the moment. “Oh. Well, honestly, I don’t feel much different. I mean,” she examined her fingers, “I did have this tiny scar on my thumb, and it looks like it might be gone. But, otherwise, I kinda just feel the same.”
“Oh,” he said then pursed his lips. “Well, I guess now we know, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said. Her eyes noticed his forearm, and she wondered what he felt like. She said quickly, before she could think of any consequences, “Or maybe we need a control.”
“Control?” He asked.
She leaned her weight on her arm, trying to look relaxed. “In an experiment, you need a control to show what something would look like normally, and then you have something to compare the experiment to.”
When he still didn’t look like he got where she was going with it, she said, “Maybe you could be the control. You know, just to see if maybe my kisses feel different from yours.”
He froze for a moment as his eyes widened. He then said, “Okay,” and flopped down on the bed.
She giggled, red rising in her cheeks, as she told him to move to the pillows. And when he was laying where she had laid during her turn, she kissed his ankle.
She moved quicker than he had, kissing the main parts of his body first: his shin, his knee, his lower thigh. She kissed his fingers, his hand, his forearm and upperarm, but she was more focused on moving upward.
She made sure to kiss every inch of his neck. He breathed out, and he put his hands on her back.
But as she continued, he began to giggle.
“You need to stop,” he chuckled.
“What?” She asked as she moved away from his neck. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he said, rubbing her back, “it’s just tickling me.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Well, before the tickling…how did it feel?”
“It felt good,” he said, then chuckled, “I mean, it doesn’t feel like gem magic or healing spit, so, uh, I think this experiment might have been a failure.”
“Not a complete failure,” she said. She stayed close to his face, ready to kiss him again if needed. “Now we know.”
He smirked. “Now we know.”