He’d held her once before, very briefly, but his hands coming along her features sparked that particular memory of another day in the Feverlands – running away from lures and songs, lost cloths stuffed in ears, lamplighter snares. But she didn’t yield from this one, ached for it in the woven, inherent pulse of her blood; waiting on bated breath until it was shared.
Tender and gentle, firsts upon firsts, she smiled in the zealous rush of the soft, chaste exchange. Then she chased it, like sunrises and sparks and glows; tilting her head, eyes closed, and expanding upon the rush, pressing back into him, encouraging them to have their fill of one another. No sugarcoating the affections – resplendent and clear, vibrant with drumming hearts. Her free hand rose upwards, cupping his cheek, his jaw, callouses brushing over portions of his short beard; waiting for some signal to cease and desist or persist entirely.
Tender and gentle, firsts upon firsts, she smiled in the zealous rush of the soft, chaste exchange. Then she chased it, like sunrises and sparks and glows; tilting her head, eyes closed, and expanding upon the rush, pressing back into him, encouraging them to have their fill of one another. No sugarcoating the affections – resplendent and clear, vibrant with drumming hearts. Her free hand rose upwards, cupping his cheek, his jaw, callouses brushing over portions of his short beard; waiting for some signal to cease and desist or persist entirely.
Lena
