[ There is a small part of her that still wonders if he is real, if there's anything to prove that he exists beyond her own imagination. When she kisses him, she thinks on if this might be a dream, some imagining, some tender thing that is burning through her and making her yearn for more - but she keeps those parts of herself together and focuses instead on the gentle pressure of his kiss, the taste of the petal on her tongue.
Tilting her head back, she swallows without hesitation, intoxicated. ]
I am not afraid.
[ And she is not, not really, not as her hips chase his, as her mouth opens to moan so softly and so quietly. ]
no subject
Tilting her head back, she swallows without hesitation, intoxicated. ]
I am not afraid.
[ And she is not, not really, not as her hips chase his, as her mouth opens to moan so softly and so quietly. ]