Tomoyo's kisses were like cool water, closing around her lips perfectly, forming inverse shapes against her face and neck. Her long body would undulate and ripple as Meiling's hands would trace patterns on her skin, trailing her fingertips over the flat surface. Water was yin, like Tomoyo. The yin to her yang, the other half of her soul, the person that completed her.
Meiling used to think that she'd drown in the depths of her emotions. They were too strong, too much for her body to contain. But love isn't like drowning, not when you do it right. It's floating.