#gamkur

Your kisses are sloppy. You know it, and you wonder if she knows that you know... you stop there, any further and your head will hurt. Your kisses are sloppy and you don't care. You want to lick her face, her teeth, feel everything against everything. Tongue to tooth, to tongue, to lip, to cheek, to gums. You want to make her spit mix so finely with yours and seep into her very skin.

Your hands are unrestrained. You move them about her, trying to determine where your own body differs, what you can expect in your future and what is already proving to be hers alone. You feel alone, more than you should. She is always there and yet you do. Your heart once pounded in your chest for a girl in school only to lose it. Watch it shatter into a million pieces while standing on the sideline and even helping push Tavros away. She comforted you, your dear sweet sister. Kurloz always would, hold you close and stroke your messy hair. Wash you like a child and hum soft songs and share with you her heart. So you took it. 

You are noisy. You are loud and uncaring more often than not. You would keep quiet if you hadn't spent your formative years wanting someone, anyone, to hear you. To see you and reach out. She came, in the end. The one you had not thought to call, sweet big sister came. You can see the pain she endured and you can't bring yourself to help her carry it the way she helped you. So you are loud, and you say it's so she knows you are there but that isn't it. It's the continuing need for some sort of proof to yourself that you are here. That you live and that this is really happening. 

She will kiss you back the way she knows you like. She moves in response to yours in a way that leaves your muscles tense and shaking until you fall apart. She will capture your sounds and make sure you understand you are heard. She knows you, sees you, and feels you here.

Her kisses are sloppy. There's too much of everything; lips, teeth, tongue, and spit. It's even worse when she's wearing her paint, and unless you do it for her she doesn't usually remember to seal it. She's earnest though. There is a passion there, a hungry need you can taste. 

Her hands are untrained, even after all these years. She knows your buttons, don't ever assume she hasn't been paying attention. She is just always so excited by any displays of affection her hands can't stop moving over your body like she might need to make a clay replica at any moment. Needing here and poking there as though trying to determine the exact placement of your bones and organs. 

She's noisy. No matter where you are it always boils down to being your job to keep her quiet when the time demands it. Not that you care either, her soft tongue moving over your fingers as you stuff her mouth to muffle her whimpers. Or even when you can seal those lips with your own. Once or twice you have toyed with her, pressing your hand against her face and restricting her airflow just to see what would happen. You are careful though, always careful. You are not the one who will hurt her. 

The world will do that enough.

No, instead you will kiss back in the way you know she likes without trying to contain her tongue. You will move your hands in counter to hers until she's stilled enough that the tense muscles begin to shake as she falls apart. You will capture her sounds and if you can you will swallow them and keep them inside yourself like sacred gifts.