Events. - pt. 5 "Kiss"

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About part five:

2.1K words

Mentions: intimacy, possessiveness, dominance, passion

Warnings: Detailed description of a kiss

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Before he could realize his tongue had traced the outline of her lips as if they were just the frame of a perfect Renaissance painting, urging them to part. And they indeed parted... For him.

He wasn't just kissing, he was creating art. In the short breathless moments in which they rested from the long kiss, he lightly licked her lower lip just to taste her poisonous nectar, devoid of any other poisons. Devoid of wine, of water, of honey or even of blueberries. And just as he imagined, her poison was far more delicious than all these poisons. He rediscovered a new taste, a taste that washed over his entire being and mouth until he pulled her lips back to the kiss he was managing in quite a dominant way anyway.

If he didn't stop now he wouldn't be able to go on living without that taste every day, like it was marking his life on every part of his body to need the taste like a drug, but alas, it was just the taste of her lips and kisses. How precious and dear her sweet juice tasted, and even more precious and dear it became when mixed with his own. He swallowed their exchanged saliva slowly, as if he was getting drunk on something he hadn't felt in a long time, something unreal. Getting drunk on the power her lips gave him. Severus, you weak man...

- Don't pull away just yet... - he stole exactly one second and twenty milliseconds to whisper that against her.

Severus clasped his large and unexpectedly soft hands around the frame of her face ever so gently as he savored the privilege of feeling her soft cute plumps against his and it did not fail to make his heart tremble in delight. The frame of her face was a work of art by some brilliant sculptor who had implanted his own wretched heart into her and her being. Lysanna was art, he was art and they were creating a new greater art. They were betraying each other because they both knew that these shared elixirs, in which they were lapping at, were nothing more than fleeting happiness and possibly: the pain of love, which they saw in different ways - with different eyes.

Because the two of them had different eyes, different thoughts, different hearts and different lips. They weren't the same, no.
Her passion was almost taking everything from him not to attack her with his tongue, so he kept what little control he had left at the moment. Merlin... Why are you doing this to him? Why do you send this woman to him, knowing damn well what fate awaits him and that this woman will end up mourning in an empty house without him, as he will be far away and the nights will seem long and cold to her, the wind will caress her skin but not as his fingers had once caressed her. She'd look for him and whisper to the moon, look into every face of every wizard passing by her path, searching for at least one trace of his in theirs, but even if they wanted to they couldn't have the same lips, let alone eyes. And whispering his name to the moon will have no return, the other party will be cruelly dead for her grief.

The black-robed man's lips began to kiss longer and more lazily, straining to press muscles against hers. His hand slowly moved from her fragile face up, draping in her hair, which now felt like cold sea waves on a scorching hot day of heat and dryness. Her lips were oceans, seas, wetter than her waves of ginger-gold locks. Everything in that kiss was enough for the woman to realize what a pain it would be to love this man - Severus Snape and how hard his love could be forgotten once experienced.
It was only now that she could understand this black-haired rose woman who still couldn't forget him after so many sad years. No one could survive such kisses or such touches from hands that could physically hurt you with ease. Lips that could poison you forever. With his passion, oozing "black" venom like a hungry snake. Lips - soft like silk and warm, reminiscent of a mug of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks in a harsh winter.

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