A kiss

She was making cookies, I was getting started on a calzone. Space was limited, so I had to slide around her. I put my hand on her; just a caress really, in passing, and she turned to me. It was an invitation.

I moved in and made to kiss her, but stopped myself. We were cheek to cheek, and I breathed her air, felt her power. We were touching but my hands were by my sides. She took one of my elbows and pulled my arm around her. I embraced her and pressed against her.

Still, we did not kiss, but rather got as close to one another as possible, until she tilted her head up to me. This silent message was less assent than command, and our lips brushed. Her hand was on my neck, holding me tight without pulling me in. Our lips touched, but my tongue did not invade her space. She used hers, flicking it into my mouth, letting me know to proceed, and we kissed.

We didn't break apart right away when we were done, but rather stayed close, sharing the same breath. On her I smelled the flour, powdered sugar, and chocolate of the red velvet cookies she was making, and underneath that her lovely scent, unadorned by perfume.

I breathed it in, drawing power from her, feeling contentment well up in my heart. Then she moved her hand from my neck and we stepped apart. Such a little thing, but a wonderful measure of our love, and her control.