Summery: Behold the power of Anole’s tongue. Written for bebopbeats
Annie tilted her head to one side and peered at Tag’s face and neck. “How did you get this rash, Brian?”
The boy coughed and looked away, shifting his weight uncomfortably on the examination table. “Dunno. Can’t you give me something to make it go away?”
“It might help if I knew just what I was dealing with,” the nurse chided gently.
Brian “Tag” Cruz landed on the bed with a grunt, Victor “Anole” Borkowski’s teeth nibbling at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Brian’s hands wandered over the smooth green skin and muscles of Victor’s back, scratching him lightly as the green skinned boy licked the nape of his neck.
Victor’s fingers dug into Brian’s hips, his thumbs making little circles on the fabric of his pants before those clever fingers started scrambling towards his fly. Brian let out a breathy sigh as Victor’s mouth brushed against one of his nipples, that wonderful tongue circling the hard little nub. Brian loved that tongue. If he could, he would marry that tongue.
It didn’t hurt that the tongue came with the rest of Victor, and that the rest of Victor included a pair of very clever hands and a thigh that was in just the right spot…
Anole cleared his throat and swallowed nervously. “Is he gonna be alright?” he asked as Tag shifted his weight again. He didn’t quite meet Annie’s eyes as he spoke. “I mean, it’s not something serious, is it?”
“It looks like an allergic reaction to something he rubbed on his skin. Have you changed soap or some-” Annie blinked, looking from Tag’s woebegone (and slightly swollen) face to Anole’s stricken _expression, and suddenly things started clicking into place. “Victor, I’m going to need a sample of your saliva,” she said, searching for a specimen cup. “And you may want to keep your tongue to yourself until we know the full extent of… this.”