[ That brief silence feels like an eternity. Sholmes is about to fill it with more words, but the warm palm on his face cuts short the syllable on his breath. He blinks, in momentary shock. No, it's time to shut up, isn't it? He closes the scant distance, only to clumsily bump the tips of their noses with a smiling, breathy laugh. Correcting the angle, he tilts his head to loosely graze their lips together.
He'd been tempted to kiss Yujin before—both times they'd parted ways at the steamship docks; one night, laughing on their way home from the pub; and several otherwise unremarkable, quiet moments burned indelibly into his memory. A simple glance at his partner—reading the paper, looking out a carriage window, poring over his careful notes—struck him with an upswell of aching fondness.
That familiar feeling now returns in force, and compels his hand up the slope of Mikotoba's shoulder to cradle the back of his head. Inhaling through his nose, he presses his lips tighter, gentle but insistent, to relish in the coarse bristle of his mustache and the lingering notes of cider.
The flowerwork display continues overhead and said cider has been upended onto the grass. Both are entirely ignored. ]
@professorbestie / Yujin Mikotoba
[ That brief silence feels like an eternity. Sholmes is about to fill it with more words, but the warm palm on his face cuts short the syllable on his breath. He blinks, in momentary shock. No, it's time to shut up, isn't it? He closes the scant distance, only to clumsily bump the tips of their noses with a smiling, breathy laugh. Correcting the angle, he tilts his head to loosely graze their lips together.
He'd been tempted to kiss Yujin before—both times they'd parted ways at the steamship docks; one night, laughing on their way home from the pub; and several otherwise unremarkable, quiet moments burned indelibly into his memory. A simple glance at his partner—reading the paper, looking out a carriage window, poring over his careful notes—struck him with an upswell of aching fondness.
That familiar feeling now returns in force, and compels his hand up the slope of Mikotoba's shoulder to cradle the back of his head. Inhaling through his nose, he presses his lips tighter, gentle but insistent, to relish in the coarse bristle of his mustache and the lingering notes of cider.
The flowerwork display continues overhead and said cider has been upended onto the grass. Both are entirely ignored. ]
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