A/N: There's something cute to me about an older girl essentially stealing a boy's first kiss, and I think this dynamic could work well with Liz and Kid. Especially because good boys need bad girls, as they say, and Liz definitely seems like the type to do that.

Also, the idea of Kid being super shy is so adorkable, I can hardly stand it.

Not to mention, I am sick and tired of people making Kid so out-of-character in their fics when they try to get him in sexual situations. I highly doubt Kid is comfortable or experienced with them. So, I tried to make that come across here.

Kid's older in this. Around seventeen. Mostly because a seventeen-year-old girl kissing a thirteen-year-old boy is kind of wrong.

Hands and Hair

It happened so fast.

Well, fast in proportion to how long things usually took with Kid. Liz had been waiting for this for a while. She'd been waiting so long, too long, for her silly, pretty-boy meister to make a move on her. In comparison to how long she had waited and wanted, maybe the events that took place in the span of a few hours only seemed "too fast" because she wasn't expecting it, wasn't prepared for it, wasn't used to things taking place so quickly in this luxurious, slow-moving lifestyle she and her sister had adopted when they moved in with Kid. Really, she hadn't been expecting it period. When it was over, she had felt rather dizzy. It had had the same affect on her that one might get from driving in a really fast car; everything is a blur during, and even after when you try to remember. Maybe she was impatient and that gave her courage. Or maybe, more likely, it was one of those things that just happened when you least expected it to, even when you've been waiting, hoping, yearning. It wasn't like she'd planned it, or seen it coming. It just happened. She couldn't even really say when it was that she'd developed this little crush on her partner. She knew it was sometime after he'd gotten a foot taller than her. She knew it was after his shoulders broadened and his face became sharper, older looking. But if you asked her when exactly these less than pure affections had started budding inside of her, or even when she'd realized it, she wouldn't have been able to give a definite answer.

"Kid, brush my hair would you?" Liz asked. He was good at it. Kid was good at a lot of things, mostly because he took his time. He took a lot of time. And they had time. Three hours to be exact. If he was going to take forever, then she could sit there and stare at her reflection in the mirror like the vain girl they both knew she was, and maybe even listen to her iPod until it was time to go. She had finished getting dressed for the most part, and she had already done Patti's hair and make-up. The only thing she had left to do was her own hair, and putting on her new, red, high-heeled shoes. She was sitting in front of her vanity and Kid was behind her, yelling at her in the bedroom she shared with Patti about something to do with her not fixing her sister's hair symmetrically. With Liz's offer however, Kid seemed to forget completely about her sister, and with his interest directed completely towards her, Patti was able to escape the scolding by slipping gigglingly out the door.

Kid turned to her excitedly. "Really?"

"No, I was kidding." Liz snapped sarcastically.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. Liz sighed. Kid had never been good with sarcasm.

"Kid, I wasn't serious. I do want you to brush my hair."

Kid was behind her in five seconds flat, his fingers already in her hair, her back relaxing automatically against the hard, wooden, tall-backed chair, as he slipped his fingers through her tresses slowly, carefully.

"Hold on, I'll be right back." And just like that, Kid was gone. Liz reached for her MP3 on the vanity in front of her while he was absent. She listened to a total of three songs, and then he was back, his arms full of hair products and brushes.

Soon enough, his fingers were back to their soothing movements, and Liz marveled at how good it felt to have him this close. She blushed slightly when she realized how sensual it was to her, the way the tips of his digits pressed so lightly to the back of her scalp before they were gone again. Almost teasingly. Kid, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to this. He had no idea about the affect his hands were having on her. He was precisely and cautiously aligning every strand and lock of her hair so that it would meet the level he deemed perfection. He was taking full advantage of the situation, because he knew he would never get this opportunity with Patti. Liz imperceptibly shook her head. She acknowledged now that Kid would be doing her hairstyle the way he wanted it. She gave up immediately at this realization, without even putting up a fight. She was too lazy to argue with someone as persistent as Kid. Her fate had been sealed the moment she'd asked him to do such a simple thing as brush her hair.

Liz sighed mentally. If only Kid was a regular guy. Maybe then he'd take real advantage of the situation. But Liz could have told anyone; Kid's mind simply didn't work that way.

She studied his reflection in her mirror: Fierce golden eyes in the shape of mere slits as he glared at her hair in furious intensity, the little space between the well-manicured, thin, black lines of his eyebrows scrunched up into tiny wrinkles; a valley of ridges in an otherwise perfectly smooth face.

She began to lean her head back, over the edge of the chair, and into the warm, solid pressure of his stomach. He didn't seem to notice and didn't halt his obsessive actions in any way.

Eventually, he started to work with the brushes, his hands coming in her line of vision to pull the hair back from her forehead. She watched in an almost daze at the way the muscles in his pale hands moved, the way the tendons in his wrists, their actions so intricate and complex, worked together to move his deft, nimble fingers. When Liz realized she was imagining how they would feel on her skin she shook the thoughts from her head. But she knew it was futile and so she gave up and allowed the sinful images to plague her mind, fantasizing about the boy who was standing right behind her. In her mind, a much more experienced, sexually-aware, bolder Kid roved his hands along her sides. In her mind, a much prettier, more well-meaning Liz sighed in desire.

His hands were beautiful.

Without really thinking about it, Liz pulled one of them down in front of her face and began to study it, forcing him to stop what he was doing.

"Liz, what are you-"

"Shut up, Kid."

Gently, Liz pressed a small, warm, wet kiss to the tips of each of his fingers. She did it deliberately and languorously. Behind her, Kid gasped, a quiet inhale of surprise. Then, to make it symmetrical, she did the same to his other hand.

She let go of his wrists, allowing him to take his hands back. But it was a long moment before he finally slid them out of her slack grip.

She turned around to take in his reaction and almost laughed at the look on his face. It was one-third shock, one-third confusion, and a little bit of something else that she couldn't quite make out. In a slow movement, he lifted his hands up to his face, regarding them with awe, and then uncertainly put them in her hair again.

He went back to his previous activity as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. The air in the room, full of a hard, thick silence was charged with an anticipatory energy that made her body shivery with excitement in a way that she couldn't really understand.

When his hands were once again in clear path of her lips, she kissed his open palms and he stilled immediately, a sigh escaping him.

Over the next two hours, her lips occasionally continued to make bold ventures across the expanse of skin spread tight across his knuckles. They eventually made contact with the backs of his hands, his wrists, and she even pushed up the sleeves of his suit to kiss his soft, white forearms. Liz was too nervous to look at his expression again. All she knew was that now, whenever she kissed him someplace new, there was only the smallest hesitation before he continued with her hair.

But when she put the thumb of his right hand fully in her mouth and sucked, he gripped her shoulder so hard that she winced. Liz made sure to keep eye contact with him in the mirror as she did this, and she could see that his face looked torn between disgust, fascination, and slight arousal. She could feel him shifting around awkwardly through the connection between the back of her head and his torso.

"L-liz…ah…" His expression was one of uncomfortable pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes full of something conflicted, lips pursed, as if he were enjoying something that he felt he shouldn't have been, almost guilty. It looked as if he were trying to contain something he couldn't control. His breath was coming out in uneven little puffs of air that she could feel shifting her hair out of place.

Half of her wanted to reach out and smooth over the tenseness in his features with her fingers. And still, yet another, crueler part of her, watched in enjoyment. Female instincts urged her to comfort, but other, more devious instincts made her hot from the tortured look he was wearing.

He made no movement to deter her from doing the same to his other thumb. Not that he would have even if he wanted to. There was symmetry to consider, after all.

A few minutes later, he leaned in front of her to check the path of her hair, his eyes narrowed in forced concentration. Quickly, before he could move away, Liz placed her lips on the underside of his jaw, fingers fisted in the collar of his suit.

He trembled against her and she observed his reflection in the mirror again from underneath his chin to see that he had closed his eyes involuntarily. However, his eyelids contracted to the point that they were just as wrinkled as the space between his eyebrows, now softened, once had been. He was giving in to his body's impulses, embracing the way his eyes had closed, too shy to look at her as she continued her ministrations.

She left a small line of kisses down his jaw, and in a way that she wasn't so sure was an accident, Kid moved his head to face her, so that her lips dragged along his jaw-line and wound up connected to his mouth. His eyes, which had been squeezed shut, opened and gazed at her in a look full of heat and gold and wise confusion, as if he knew, but didn't really, fully understand what he had just initiated. She felt only vaguely ashamed when she realized his innocence in this situation turned her on. Liz wasted no time in pressing more firmly against his lips, placing her hand so that it cradled his jaw.

He made a sound half-way between a grunt and a sigh and applied a slight pressure on his end, kissing her back.

When she tried pushing her tongue into his mouth however, Kid was on the other side of the room before she could even blink.

In complete surprise, her shoulders feeling cold from the sudden loss of warmth left by him pressing against her back, goosebumps spreading along her body from unfulfilled anticipation and nervousness and the absence of heat she had gotten used to, Liz reached up and touched her hair. He had finished with it.

It was in a beautiful, sweeping up-do.

Liz didn't say thank you; she just stared at him.

Kid stared back, his eyes wide and disbelieving, as if he had no idea who he was or what had just happened. He looked lost.

"I-I'm sorry, Liz." His voice sounded spent and raspy, as if he'd been using it a lot, when in actuality, he had barely spoken the entire time. He was apologizing? "You should get dressed. We'll be late to my father's annual ball if you don't hurry up."

And just like that, he was all straight lines and dignity again. His voice had lost it's stuttering, shuddering quality, and he was back to sounding like a thirty-year-old in a seventeen-year-old's body, his hands straightening his collar. With a clearing of his throat, Kid nodded at her, and with his usual crisp control, strode out of the room.

Through her poignant disappointment, so keen it was almost painful, Liz took pride in the fact that the flush on his face when he left the room had not quite ebbed away.

What she didn't see was the way Kid had to collect himself once the door had closed behind him.

She missed the way his fingers clenched repeatedly as he marched down the hall away from her room, and how he kept tugging the sleeves of his suit down over his hands, as if there might be some imaginary mark on them that would betray him, that would allow anyone to see what she'd done to him there.

A/N: Well, that's that. I know, lame title. =.=' I kind of suck at titles.

I may do a sequel to this? Maybe? I don't know. I'm not really good at writing sexy stuff.

Poor Kid. Liz ended up taking advantage of him instead. :P

Oh Liz, you cougar. XD