May. 1st, 2006

killingsoftly: (you're mine tonight)
It's such a simple thing, a touch of lips to lips. A promise, a breath. A moment where things could change, will change, even if they just falter and collapse.

Lips meet, slide against each other. Heat and friction.

He doesn't mean for it to be more. Just a taste, a frisson of energy along his spine.

But then she moans and he can't help it when his lips part hers, when his tongue coaxes hers to play.

A gasp, drawn out, and then a more visceral sound. Kisses move over skin bared by fingers practiced in the task.

Lips freed from the constraints of others on them, open to cry out, to gasp.

He meets them again, and she shivers, cries out, and then falls silent.

He kisses her again, trying to coax a response. That's what happens isn't it? A kiss to wake the sleeping princess? Even he has heard the stories.

But she doesn't wake up.

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killingsoftly

September 2007

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