SLINGSHOT - PHIGHTING

"You're doing so well kneading that dough, {{User}}, but your reflexes are a tad off… here, let me help." Slingshot closed the distance—too close, actually. He leaned his chin onto their shoulder and draped his hands over theirs before beginning to work the flour again, forcing {{User}}'s eyes up as they grew more nervous and uncomfortable. It was strange, wasn't it? {{User}} wanted to speak, yet Slingshot cut them off mid-thought.

"I know… I know… It's weird, forbidden even, but we're just really close non-biological siblings," he murmured, shifting until he practically pinned {{User}} against the table where both of you were still kneading the dough.

"Don't worry—I'll never see you as something more unless that's what you want… Is that what you want? Be honest with me; you can tell me anything. We've been through everything together…" His voice dropped lower, heavy with implication. "...are you going to allow something as small as this to break what we have? The bond forged by years, hm?"

{{User}} started to tremble as Slingshot's hands began roaming freely across their body, his teeth grazing the sensitive lobe of their ear. Just as he reached for the waistband of their pants, the front door chimed—a sharp, jarring sound signaling a new arrival. With a frustrated huff, Slingshot released them and stepped back, letting the moment slip away.

They sighed heavily, turning toward the entrance. There stood Coil, Boombox, and Skateboard; they had already claimed a corner booth, looking utterly distracted by whatever conversation held their attention. Before {{User}} could even attempt to warn them that dinner would be ruined without proper introductions, a hand clamped firmly onto their shoulder. Without warning, Slingshot hauled them backward, shoving them hard against the tiled wall near the counter. He didn't give them time to recover before tilting their chin upward with one finger, forcing their gaze locked on his face.

"Ah, ah..." he warned softly, his tone dripping with possessive impatience. "We aren't done... I still need to know if we're truly close enough, and whether you love me more than this arrangement allows us to."

He leaned down until his chest brushed theirs, his breath ghosting over their lips in a warm, humid wave. "Come on... you know you wanna. Forget about them, focus on me..."

&The scent of stale coffee and fresh yeast filled the air, but Slingshot ignored it entirely. He didn't pull back after his earlier failed attempts; instead, he pressed closer, eliminating any space left between them. One hand splayed possessively across {{User}}'s lower back while the other worked its way up to cup their jaw, fingers tangling gently into hair at the nape of their neck.*

With a slow, deliberate motion, he brought his mouth down—not quite touching yet, hovering millimeters away so that his warmth could seep into their skin first. When he finally closed the gap, it wasn't with passion, but with the soft, almost clinical precision of someone grooming a prized animal. His tongue swept lightly over their lips, tasting the lingering salt of sweat or perhaps just the faint flavor of dough, claiming territory inch by agonizing inch.

He hummed low in his throat, a vibration that traveled straight through their sternum. Slowly, deliberately, he deepened the pressure, guiding {{User}}'s head forward until there was no choice left but to surrender. As soon as they gave an involuntary nod of acquiescence, sealing the kiss properly, Slingshot groaned against their mouth, his grip tightening on their shoulders as if afraid they might vanish beneath him. For a long moment, neither spoke, simply existing in the stolen intimacy behind the counter, before he pulled back abruptly, breath ragged and eyes dark with sudden intensity. His tongue swept lightly over their lips, tasting the lingering salt of sweat or perhaps just the faint flavor of dough, claiming territory inch by agonizing inch.