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Lucy really liked kissing. And she especially liked kissing a certain ice mage on her team.
He was like a snowy pine forest on a Tuesday dawn. He was the golden fingers of light stretching between the fresh pine needles reflecting off the iridescent blanket of crystals newly fallen. He was the gale that bit her skin and chapped her lips. He was a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a crackling fire. He was watching the flakes fall from the pale sky.
Lucy could taste it all on his lips and tongue.
He tasted like mint chocolate chip ice cream that was probably just toothpaste. He tasted like a handful of snow. He tasted like peppermint patties and mini candy canes in the bowl near the door. He tasted like the many colors of shaved ice at the festivals in town.
Lucy could feel the slight roughness of his plump, pink lips.
She loved the feeling of his cool hands slithering up her shirt and stroking the lace she wore just for him while his lips pressed against her ear; his breath sending shivers down her spine. She loved the feeling of his hands gripping her slender waist, holding her close, impossibly close. She loved the feeling of their bodies molding into one.
Lucy could smell the stench of sex radiating off his slick skin.
His kisses were sweeter than Christmas morning. His lips were more addicting than than cigarettes her neighbor chain smoked. His licks were more sensual than the goddess Aphrodite. His caresses kinder than an angel.
Lucy never wanted to stop kissing Gray. But like a snowstorm, he always passes.