Re: Third Class ; Dining
The lost boy couldn't say where his confidence came from in the moments that followed, because it certainly wasn't like him to be anything close to forward. But he simply couldn't help himself as she reached up to twist her fingers in the fabric of his white shirt. And then she had to whimper, a sound that shot through him in a way that was unfamiliar but delightful in the same breath.
He crept further forward, shuffling forward on his knees in order to close the distance a little bit more, and as her lips parted, inviting him, he didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. A timid touch of tongue, a taste, he was gentle and undemanding, moving slow with the kiss with every preparation to pull away should she make any sign of wanting this to end. He prayed, however, that she would not feel that way, that they could continue to kiss, to explore.
There was a murmur from him, a soft sound of enjoyment, and his hand dropped to the side of her neck, long fingers splayed out, tips of his fingers resting at the nape of her neck.