[And Sholmes lifts his head up—his hands, too, to lace behind her neck—and pulls her into that requested kiss. This one is long and deep and partnered with the curve of his smile which just won’t seem to go away. He breathes in that blessed scent of her; enjoys the press of her body, always so warm. He imagines what her tail might look like right, coiled in presumed pleasure.
no subject
(Mental note: keep track of time.)]