[It's a long moment that she maintains the contact, physical and mental. Just enjoying the warmth and plush of Red's lips, the lazy slide of his consciousness against her own. In two days, they're other people. But until then, this is their life, their choices, and Red seemed so somber. He shouldn't.
As always, a hand slides up to comb through his hair, mussing the floofy mass of it. There's very little she wouldn't do to keep the people she cares about happy. And she can't help but wonder if he's had the same itch.
Unless we want to traumatize young minds, we might want to enjoy it in a private room.]
Friday
As always, a hand slides up to comb through his hair, mussing the floofy mass of it. There's very little she wouldn't do to keep the people she cares about happy. And she can't help but wonder if he's had the same itch.
Unless we want to traumatize young minds, we might want to enjoy it in a private room.]