Chomp!
send “chomp” for my muse to bite yours.
[Mystic wrapped his arms around Hana’s torso, pressing his mouth against the back of her head. He dwelled with her scent, leaning up against her.]
[He moved his hand up, until he reached her face. He held her jaw and gently tilted her head, then buried his face into her neck—never biting down.]
Oh, man… what am I gonna do?
Haa… —think I’m ‘boutta lose it.













