Taint places her right finger tips against Eithne's left cheek - grazing it softly, gently, like wind on wheat as she gazes deeply into Eithne's eyes. Her facial expression is almost vacant as if she's lost in a fantasy. Having grazed all the way to her ear, she runs her fingertips over Eithne's forehead as if parting a stray hair. She holds her cheeks once more - this time with both soft, supple palms and fingers, then glides towards her with parted lips.
Feeling their lips touch, she retreats ever so slightly - more as a tease than out of hesitation. With a short pause, she glides in again - this time kissing her lips, then tasting the tip of her soft, pink tongue as fireworks explode in her mind. With the taste of her lips and saliva intoxicating her soul she glides in again - swaying her head as she lightly moans with each sensual massage of their tongues. Her mind ignites with the grainy, velvety sensation, the feeling of her warm, wet buds, the gentle counter-force behind her willful tongue, the anticipation of driving her to a place from which she cannot return.