Oct 18, 2015
Glacia hugs my chest and stares up at me. Our eyes close, our lips touch. We’re still wearing the flowery coils the drunken Dalish man threw around our necks, and the fragrant scents engulf us. In a blur, I feel the bed against my arms. Glacia’s hair fans under us, and her hands are on my shoulders. Up my neck. Down my chest. Her head sinks into the pillow. My hands sink in the blankets.
And as we kiss, I can taste the flowers’ nectar.
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