This is How Kisses from Leone go

word count : 583

Kisses From Leone

Just one press alone feels decedent, and the longer his lips continue to melt over yours, the more intoxicated you become, your mind lost when his tongue teases yours.

Leone has a specific taste that just makes you feel like you're steadily getting drunk by the kisses, slowly subdued until you're melted into putty.

You joke that it's because of all the wine he drinks, more particularly his favorite red, aged one.

You play around and claim that his tongue is so saturated with it that when it dances with yours, it's like you're drowning the vino down yourself.

- And he smirks because he only hears that you're addicted to him and that you're weak for him.

You feel weightless, almost like you'd float up into the air if it weren't for the strong arms that wrap around your waist and pull you in so desperately tight that in your delirium, you are convinced he thinks the same.

Leone, distant to the world and cold to others, never denies you.

He doesn't have the heart to resist holding back, even in his anger and frustration.

Instead, In his irritation he's much more passionate, perhaps less inclined to treat you with the same tenderness he does on a regular basis, and certainly more willing to let his frustrations out on you.

The hands that normally hold your cheeks when he smoothers you into a sweet kiss, find home elsewhere. One is placed behind your head to steady you as the other makes way to your neck, holding it with a little squeeze that's just a bit too rough and thins out the amount of air your lungs can enjoy.

During then you always expect more bites and nibbles, the way he scrapes his teeth over your skin before he clamps down, forcing shivers from you that are full of excitement and anticipation.

It makes your knees wobble the way he holds you still, his eyes darkened as he glares down at you and offers you silence.

He needs no words as his actions speak for themselves.

Throughout, he holds on dearly.

He pretends as though it's always the last kiss he'd be able to give you, and that it has to hold all of his love and affection.

His long, periwinkle strands hold the faintest hint of evergreen woodsy aroma, and his skin is also marked by the same smell, and it cocoons you as he strongly embraces you.

Even if you were at fault, he's the one to crack.

And if you ask him why he holds you so tightly, he'd answer truthfully.

He'd hold the softest dusk of pink on his cheeks and he'd murmur to you that he loves you.

- He loves you, and he's nothing without you.