Fixation

!!! DISCLAIMER !!!
i'm fully aware of the harassment situation with nick. i do not support him whatsoever at this point, and i hope this fic doesn't lead anyone to believe that. this is simply a creative outlet with two characters that i'm familiar with.
EDIT:
due to people being rightfully upset about my using nick as a character, i've changed it from him to vernon shaw because i love him and these boys are good

Griffin had always had a fixation with his mouth, ever since he was a baby. Psychologists always put the blame on his parents weaning him too quickly off his pacifier. Regardless of the source, Griffin had something between his lips at all times: the clicker on a pen, his nails, a hoodie's drawstring, Vernon's fingers.

Though Vernon firstly found it a bit off-putting, he's hypnotized now by the willingness Griffin has to suck on his tongue and crane open his mandibles for his penis. This is not to say every encounter with Griffin has to be dirty; Vernon is fully content with Griffin's back pushed against his chest while the television lights up their faces, his thumb absently being worked back and forth between Griffin's rosy cheeks.

-

Griffin has a round, rubicund face that only gets redder when he gets nervous. Their manager has taken a liking to Griffin, but when she asks him to relay his stance on expanding the technology field, a stutter rushes into his throat as quickly as it takes him to stand up. His thumb instinctually rises to his teeth, and he'll nibble until the anxiousness subsides. Even afterwards, a pencil gripper grinds against his molars. Their manager drones on in front of a whiteboard, but god forbid Vern focus on the points instead of the way Griffin's lip curls inward when he repositions the object in his mouth, or the bead of spit sitting at the corner of his lips threatening to spill.

Eventually all of Vernon's attentiveness on the seminar has diminished, so he relinquishes hope and shamelessly steals long glances at Griffin's watercolor cheeks. God, Vern thinks, his face is a sunset. An explosive sunset, from somewhere really gorgeous, like Montana or Iowa. Yeah, my baby's face looks like Wyoming.

Vernon memorizes the ways in which Griffin's mouth curves and straightens, fluctuates like a river; his cirrus cloud eyelashes bat against lively cheeks. His dogwood trunk arms confidently lead into grapevine hands, smattered with a sparse few wildflower freckles.

Vernon thinks he would do anything on this Wednesday morning at nine forty six A.M. if it meant he could just touch Griffin's face. He didn't even have to kiss him (though he'd love to); he just wanted to feel the stubble where Griffin had forgotten to shave earlier, the indention of Griffin's hardly-noticeable cheekbones, the uneven plushness of Griffin's bitten lips, Griffin, Griffin, Griffin.

But he's far too shy to do anything like that right now, so instead he tries to remember where the state of Wyoming is located.

-

Griffin is keen on letting Vernon know how much he loves his lips. "Vern!" Griffin whines, squirming against Vernon's shoulder. "You don't even believe me, man, but I've never seen anything prettier. It's like..." Griffin fumbles for a moment. "Um, you're gonna think this is so weird. Mashed potatoes." Vernon shoves Griffin's shoulder roughly, and squeezes many snarky and perplexed comments through both of their laughter.

"No, no, no, no, no! Come on, it's not that bad!" Griffin snorts and then argues, "Listen, okay."

Vernon wheezes and obliges. "Okay, okay. I'm listening." Griffin has to wait another thirty seconds because another fit of giggles erupts out of Vern's belly.

"They are soft and squishy, kinda, and they feel good in my mouth region. All of these phrases also apply to your lips, dude. Also: Mashed potatoes? Fuckin' good."

They kiss for a while after that, and Griffin won't stop asking how Vern prefers his mashed potatoes ("Whipped or chunky? Do you like butter and cheese? Cilantro or not? Do you keep the skins in there?").

Vernon pushes his lips harder into Griffin with each impending potato inquiry; Griffin's complete lack of self control leads to him trembling and jutting his mouth into Vernon within a few minutes.

Griffin makes mashed potatoes for dinner the next evening.

-

Vernon loves most when he wakes up to Griffin looking at him so affectionately, with his chapped lip being worked between his incisors. Griffin looks entirely cherubic lying in their white sheets with the forgiving sunlight dripping off his chest; Vern has sour breath, but he kisses Griffin so sweetly that Griffin can feel cavities.

Vernon presses his tongue into the roof of Griffin's mouth, Griffin gripping restlessly at Vernon's biceps. Griffin closes his lips around Vernon, dutifully forming a gentle suction. Vern has to pull back just enough to take a breath, but not before Griffin got the chance to sink his teeth into Vernon's plush lip.

Smiling crookedly, Griffin takes a slow breath. Vern tousles his hair, and Griffin tilts his head into the touch of Vernon's palm.

When Vernon returns to the warmth of their bed after brushing his teeth, Griffin has already put a wad of Trident in his mouth to occupy his jaws. They kiss again, chaste for just a moment before morphing into another open-mouthed mess. Vernon has to comb his hair another time because Griffin can't keep his hands to himself (unless Vern holds him still), but Vernon doesn't care all that much anyway.

Griffin's gum somehow made its way onto Vern's tongue.