( The playful back and forth is very welcome, as his short laugh goes muffled in that kiss.
Guided by Zari's fist in his shirt–impossibly hot, okay, he likes it–the press of his mouth is sweet, inquisitive, a breathless surrender to the heady taste of her lips, a far cry from the chasteness of Christmas morning. Leaving the collection of mistletoe tucked against his other palm, McCoy brings his other hand around to her shoulder, thumb sweeping the crown. )
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Guided by Zari's fist in his shirt–impossibly hot, okay, he likes it–the press of his mouth is sweet, inquisitive, a breathless surrender to the heady taste of her lips, a far cry from the chasteness of Christmas morning. Leaving the collection of mistletoe tucked against his other palm, McCoy brings his other hand around to her shoulder, thumb sweeping the crown. )