A hand is on Noel's back, steadying and callous as Noel returns the kiss. It's their first time and Noel is surprised Caius even accepted the request, but the kiss is awkward regardless.
Caius leads, as Noel had expected (not so much hoped, just expected), but his movements are somehow clumsier than Noel's. In a brief moment, Noel wonders if Caius had ever made out with anyone before.
But then Caius breaks the kiss and instead bites Noel's neck, making Noel hiss, and Noel remembers why they're there in the first place, all the fear and pain seeing a loved one die brings, and he's all too happy to stop thinking for a few moments and just feel.
His mind is foggy.
He feels, vaguely, the cold (warm?) liquid dripping from his forehead. He tastes the iron in his mouth, a sign that he should go, that he should do something, but something is on him and he doesn't have the energy to push it off.
What feels like a finger props his mouth open, prods at the inside of it, and Noel vaguely hears cooing. So not something, but someone.
His new friend, he thinks to himself. Ultimecia, Squall had called her. Noel would laugh if he could, that he had ignored his ally's warning. But he can barely find the humor in the situation, much less any other emotion, so he instead lets the fog claim him as he feels (senses) her hands start removing his clothes.
He wonders if it is a dream.
Yeul has him pinned down on the bed (Serah's bed, but he can think about that later), forehead against his and hand holding his above his head. He isn't trapped: anything but. He could force her off or flip her over if he so chose, but he didn't. Didn't wish to be anywhere in that moment except under her.
So he tilts his head up to kiss her, softly, on the mouth. She kisses him back, eyes closing to focus on the feeling, and he does the same. He rubs her hand with a thumb and she breaks the kiss long enough to readjust, let him have control of his hands again.
He uses them to cup her face. To stroke her hairs back, try to push them into place. Yeul places one of her hands over his, leans into it.
“I love you,” Noel whispers, staring.
“I love you too,” she answers, and leans back down for another kiss.
He pins Snow down, sneers at the older man. He hates him, hates him so much. His fingers dig bruises into Snow's shoulders, his fingernails drawing blood, but Snow watches him levely, calmly.
Noel has permission. Snow had agreed to this, just like he had before, and that just burns the hatred hotter.
Without warning, he forces his lips onto Snow's, more teeth than lips, and bites. Snow opens up to him easily, lets Noel draw blood (he'll heal Snow later, he had agreed to that). A hand settles on Noel's back and Noel presses harder, forces Snow's mouth opens and explores it as roughly as possible with his tongue.
But it isn't enough. So he pulls away, eyes the blood guiltily for only a brief moment before leaning down to bite Snow's neck instead. Hard enough to draw blood, the taste overwhelming Noel, and he hears Snow hiss in pain. He bites down harder, trying to elicit more of those sounds, but Snow doesn't react, merely lets Noel do as he pleases.
Noel pulls away, wipes the blood off of his mouth. He feels worse than before, almost sick.
“I hate you,” he says, voice shaking, and Snow rubs his back.
“Let it out,” Snow says, and Noel flinches before pulling Snow closer and screaming, screaming until his voice turns to sobs and his grip is weaker, shakier.
Snow rubs his back and kisses his ear, holds him close as tears and blood mix on his neck.
“I'm not leaving,” he says, and Noel hiccups.