OC Kiss Week, Day 1: Impulse
(Featuring mine and my friend @repositoryofmalarky's D&D characters from Believe in You campaign (a 5yr, Levels 1-20 Dungeon of the Mad Mage game).)
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It’s really only a small annoyance. Barely worth mentioning, easily brushed off… or, it would be, if the impulse didn’t come up quite so often.
As they read over the latest trade proposal response from Stromkuhldur, Ulli idly ponders solutions to the problem, but nothing realistic comes to mind. It isn’t as though they can carry a big stone or a wooden crate around with them everywhere, and they don’t have any spells that would help. Kicking Perisian in the back of the knee would be—well, he might think it was kind of hot, actually, but they’re not just going to bet on that and hurt him with no warning. That would be insane. Right? Yeah. Not doing that.
Perisian knows a flying spell, doesn’t he? Maybe he could teach it to them. He probably wouldn’t even ask why they wanted to know it. They could learn the spell, and cast it on themself—no. That would be an irresponsible and frivolous use of their very limited well of magic. They’re not going to do that either. Probably.
Maybe it’s just a matter of timing, they think, glancing up across the room. Perisian is pacing back and forth in front of the bookshelf, flipping through an old spell tome and muttering to himself about rune adjustments.
Ulli stretches their arms and back before standing, moving slowly and casually, hoping that Perisian is engrossed enough in his work that he won’t take notice. Sure enough, one of his ears flicks, but he doesn’t look up from the book. Perfect.
Quick as they can, Ulli dashes across the study, jumps up to climb the sturdy wood of the bookshelf, and leans to press a kiss to the top of their husband’s nose just as he finishes spinning to face them. Perisian takes a step back on instinct, but the damage is already done.
Ulli smiles, proud of themself, as Perisian visibly processes what just happened. Then the minotaur huffs, amused.
“You know I don’t mind leaning down when you want to kiss me, right?” he asks.
“Mm. I know.” Ulli leans back a little, holding themself further from the shelf; it gives a slight creak, unused to holding a dwarf. “But I don’t get to surprise you, that way.”
“The bookshelf is going to fall on you, babe.” Perisian eyes it warily, ears twisting toward it when the wood gives another small sound of protest as Ulli shifts their weight.
“I’d be fine. One more,” they bargain, stretching toward him, and smiling when he steps within reach again.
“I’m not,” Perisian pauses to accept a proper kiss, this time, “worried,” and another, “about you,” and one more, before he leans back. “All the books will fall out.”
Ulli grumbles wordlessly, but drops down from the shelf, craning their neck to meet his eyes again.
“One more,” they request, and Perisian leans down, happy to oblige.
