ftecho4:acynosure:Comfort touchesMaking out was weird. Connie and Steven both agreed on that.But it

ftecho4:acynosure:Comfort touchesMaking out was weird. Connie and Steven both agreed on that.But it was weird in a way that they kept coming back to. When everything was settled, and they’d finally, finally started actually going on dates, making out had been added to the list of activities that they could enjoy together. Not easily, since it required privacy, but now that Steven and Greg lived in biking distance of her house, Connie found that at least once or twice a week one of their houses was empty of parents. And far from forbidden, they were being outright encouraged to spend time together, to help one another out when they needed it. Things were relaxing. Connie was studying less and living more. And Steven was mainly focused on healing. Honestly, they both were. And healing for them was partly done just through time together to talk and hug and know that their partner was okay.But not every trip was just for comfort and care. Some of them–many of them–were purely to spend time together. As best friends, as companions, and sometimes as boyfriend and girlfriend. And making out was weird. But when things got quiet and their eyes met, they found themselves doing it more and more.And so Connie would find herself straddled on Steven’s lap, their arms around each other as they appreciated making out for the weird, wonderful thing it was. Mouths mashed together, tongues teasing when they were exceptionally brave. Sometimes kissing over cheeks and necks before whispering love and support and trust into very red ears.But today they were mostly through with that, straddling with their heads on each other’s shoulders, letting their hands roam one another’s clothed backs idly in a long, slow embrace. They didn’t speak much. This was more about contact than conversation.But Steven twitched against her, and it took a moment to realize why. Her hand had slipped in its travels and her fingers were just a little bit underneath his shirt and jacket, pressed to skin instead of fabric.Connie’s fingertips drifted over him. She hadn’t done this before. Hands under clothes were very new, and probably very forbidden. But the only person whose opinion she cared about on this was her Steven’s.She felt the heat on her face as she pulled her head away to look at him, faces so close their noses brushed. “Is a little touch fine?” She started to slide her hand a little further, palm pressing to his back, and his eyes drifted as he focused on it.He looked back into her eyes, red rising in his cheeks. “Yeah… Your hands are warm. And soft.”She couldn’t take it. Her other hand slid to join the first, and she felt the same warmth and softness as she dared to hug him like this. She closed her eyes, a bashful smile on her face as she pulled him close, set her head on his shoulder again, and returned to roaming his back.It was a small step, one of dozens they would take in the next few years together, but they both cherished another tiny first. -- source link

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