Dec 30, 2015
A Davemara Drabble
Dave leaned into Damara, staring at the cloud of breath that left her parted lips. Her breath was cinnamon and cigarettes, it was intoxicating. His eyes moved up to meet hers are her rough, callused hand brushed his face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold, and her ghostly white eyes glistened. Slowly, tenderly, Damara leaned forwards, meeting Dave’s waiting lips, hesitantly at first, then with confidence. When they came up for air, Dave’s glasses were crooked and his face was warm. Damara’s lips parted into that cocky smile she wore, and Dave felt himself melt like chocolate in her hand.
