"Here," Sang grumbles, dumping almost $50 worth of lipgloss onto the bed you were relaxing on with a grumble. "Forgot what brand you got."

It had been a week, a fucking week, since you stopped putting these on. Sang had complained that he didn't like the sticky feeling on his face after you kissed him, the way his co-workers would believe he put it on his lips rather than figuring out that he was in a relationship with someone who uses this stuff constantly.

"Put it on," he adds, taking a seat beside you with a frown on his face.

Sang didn't realize how much more he hated not having another taste of you with him. The stickiness lingered after you kissed him, but so did the sweet taste. You used so many different flavors, but it always tasted like you at the end of the day. The one that he'd lick his lips to while he was finishing up another day's tattoo.

"Or I'll just do it for you," Sang sighs in exasperation, opening up the strawberry-flavored one as his free hand reaches over to grab your cheeks to make them pucker for him.