[Mako had never really thought about actually kissing anyone before. It was one of those costs of war, growing up as a weapon, fueled by rage and the need to chase her vengeance to its end. Kisses were things in books and movies, for other people, not for soldiers and pilots.
She remembered the fall through the Breach, the quiet certainty that they would go down with Gipsy as her air ran out.
This was a fall, too, bright and electric but incredibly gentle. It was like flying.
Her lips were an echo in the Drift, ghosting against her mind as she kissed him back, caught in the ripple of the way his lips felt against hers through him and back to her. His fingers against her cheek, hers against his sliding into his hair, lifting, touching only to come back in a circle to another kiss.]
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She remembered the fall through the Breach, the quiet certainty that they would go down with Gipsy as her air ran out.
This was a fall, too, bright and electric but incredibly gentle. It was like flying.
Her lips were an echo in the Drift, ghosting against her mind as she kissed him back, caught in the ripple of the way his lips felt against hers through him and back to her. His fingers against her cheek, hers against his sliding into his hair, lifting, touching only to come back in a circle to another kiss.]