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Summary
She looks down in wide-eyed adoration. Hollyberry looks up, strained. This is one perk of loving Hollyberry, of being her other half: her emotions are always written so plainly on her face, like a particularly elementary music sight-reading exercise.
Hollyberry doesn’t truly answer. Eternal Sugar cups her face. “I—” Hollyberry musters. Then she looks out to the horizon. Blazing caramel tones are all around them. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “Your world.”
Passion is a fragile feeling, and she will break Hollyberry’s passion again and again if she must. But right now, she’s content to lie with her, kiss her, fuck her with her lyre-strumming fingers and her tongue, and all the magical wonderful toys she keeps in a secret room inside her palace.
“It’s your world too,” Eternal Sugar reminds her.
She places a soft kiss upon her brow. Hollyberry now looks hungry, needy, craving more. She obliges.
They stay there, there on the top of Beast-Yeast where all is right in the world, kissing, tasting each other, sweet and tart mixing together, twining tongues, until the sun sets and night falls all over them like rain or like love.
“Let’s get back,” Eternal Sugar says.
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