Spectrum. (Kellic)

Chapter 13

Domestic kellic because this story is too much angst and not enough relationship bullshit?
You're welcome

Kellins POV

Things with Vic had seemed to settle down the past few weeks. We had somewhat gotten over our little fight, and Vic had apologised for days about getting violent with me. I still held it against him though, despite his sincere efforts to make up for it.

Today was a day where he was particularly grovelling. I woke up to the smell of burning, and immediately took on Vic's instinct of danger, but was reassured by him knocking on the door and shrieking "Pancakes!"

Nothing had been said or made of the last time he kissed me, until now, when I practically lay across the kitchen island, my body close to the pathetic pile of charred pancakes, tasting the maple syrup from Vic's bottom lip.

His hands roamed my sides, sliding underneath my shirt, but I could feel myself becoming weak to his touch, so I managed to pull my mouth from his, grasping the edge of the counter to haul myself upwards, pushing him off me and walking to the fridge.

"I'm hungry." I declared. "I hope you didn't waste all the ingredients on your shitty pancakes."

"Hey!" He bit back, "How can they be shitty, they were made with good intentions."

"Hm," I shrugged, "Nah, I'm in more of a waffle mood."

"So hard to please." He muttered.

"Well what do you want?" I said.

"You."

I didn't have to turn round to sense the half-smirk half-grin he had perfectly mastered. It was radiating from his face.

I snorted. "Oh my god."

He chuckled along with me. "What?"

"You're a disgusting cliche."

"And you're a wannabe hipster, but I get over that." He teased.

"Hey!" I batted him away as he stepped towards me, holding my hands to his chest to prevent him coming closer. "I'm not a wannabe hipster, I'm a painfully genuine hipster."

He backed off, hopping onto the counter island and watching me as I scraped waffle mix into a pan.
It hit me too late in a moment of clarity that they were going to turn out as chunky pancakes. They weren't even in a waffle maker.

"I'm still mad, you know." I said to him, turning to face him and crossing my arms over my chest.

"About what?" He replied.

"About the other week, and that fight."

"Why," He whined, "I apologised hundreds of times."

"I know, but you still haven't told me about this whole thing, and I'm still mad, that, like, you put your hands on me. And not in a good way. It was scary."

"Oh, come on." His reaction was almost a scoff, "You must know i wouldn't have actually hurt you."

"Actually, no." I raised my voice. "There were plenty of people who weren't supposed to hurt me who did, so thanks a lot, but try and understand other people before being so damn quick to react like a dick."

"Okay." He said, shocked.

"Not okay." I replied, turning and focusing on my failing waffle pancake.

"Hey," I heard him once again sliding from the countertop and padding towards me. His arms reached around my waist and his head rested in the crook of my neck.

"Stop." i said, my hands on top of his.

"No." He said, his breath tickling my neck.

"I would never hurt you." His voice was lower than usual, almost a breath in my ear. Vic suddenly lowered his head, sucking and biting lightly in the right side of my neck.

"Whatever," I muttered, pushing back against him, trying to get rid of him in an attempt to appear disinterested.

He didn't fall for it.

He just pressed against me harder, and continued his assault on my neck. I could feel myself getting hotter, my face flushed. My breath hitched, and he noticed. He could tell he was frustrating me. He turned me to face him, pushing me upwards onto the counter, his mouth moving down towards my neck, kissing and then again beginning to suck lightly.

"So you're paying attention now, then?" He smirked into the reddened skin that he was working on.

My response was a groan, a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. Mainly pleasure.

"Listen to me carefully then," he whispered, his voice husky. "I. Would. Never. Hurt. You."

His words were separated with him kissing up my neck, towards my lips. Our mouths met in an aggressive kiss, my hands tangled in his hair, his gripping the back of my thighs, lifting me from the ground and onto the the countertop.

"Vic," I sighed, breaking away from him.

"What." He frowned.

I just shook my head in dismissal, and leaned back in, reconnecting my mouth with his. It wasn't long before he dragged me back down from the counter, pushing me roughly in the direction of the hallway towards his room.

My pancake burned.