( wayward hands find a struggling perchance on jin ling's waist — his instinct is to measure up and put pressure on the kiss, passion woven by action, but he finds jin ling's hands steady like anchors, more soothed just to follow his quiet directions. it affords him the chance to map out his waistline instead, slender and lean as he is, caked in mud as he is, and no less lovely for it. there's about a thousand small pinpoints of budding bruises aligned on harry's body, all accentuated by the weight of jin ling atop him ... but there's starlight in his skin too, the tickle of chroma and maybe something not related to prisma at all lighting tiny fires up the coast of his arteries.
waves crash and simmer, but fires rage on. maybe it's more like a lit path of lighter fluid, going all the way — ka boom — to his heart.
anyway they were already both out of breath, so the kissing only lasts as long as it's able to, harry arching his head off the ground to keep their foreheads together as he pulls away panting, gasping for air.
he smiles. the point of his nose brushes jin ling's affectionately. )
no subject
waves crash and simmer, but fires rage on. maybe it's more like a lit path of lighter fluid, going all the way — ka boom — to his heart.
anyway they were already both out of breath, so the kissing only lasts as long as it's able to, harry arching his head off the ground to keep their foreheads together as he pulls away panting, gasping for air.
he smiles. the point of his nose brushes jin ling's affectionately. )
Alright, I know when I'm bested. You win.