Sweetest kisses

She kissed her like it was the most natural thing to do. Lips to lips, soft and slow, opening her with nothing but breath and heat. Every brush of her mouth told a story—hungry, honest, almost reverent in the way it claimed her. The smaller girl trembled under it, fingers knotted in the sheets, mouth slack with surrender. One long, wet pass of a tongue and the evening tilted, whatever had started on their skin now moving deeper, settling behind their ribs, and neither of them planned to come up for air until the ache was satisfied.