[ The little traces of residual venom still in the tips of her fang are sweet in an acrid sort of way, as if someone has candied bitter, dangerous poison instead of fruit. Julie can no longer taste it herself, too accustomed to it dripping on her tongue and down her throat. A full dose is strong enough to immobilize most of the other gods for a bit, though not enough to kill them, but even small amounts can burn and sting; Geralt is the only person she is willing to kiss without a drink first to wash the lingering drops away.
Her fingers run through his hair and slide under his collar, digging into his back as she cradles his face in her other hand. One leg draws up at his side, her knee pressed to his hip. Molten heat settles low in her stomach, spreads through her chest when she pulls him closer. His touch finds her slick and flushed — she breaks from his lips with a hitch in her breath, neck arching before her head settles on the grass, eyes closed and rosiness blossoming across her cheeks as the rise and fall her chest quickens. ]
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Her fingers run through his hair and slide under his collar, digging into his back as she cradles his face in her other hand. One leg draws up at his side, her knee pressed to his hip. Molten heat settles low in her stomach, spreads through her chest when she pulls him closer. His touch finds her slick and flushed — she breaks from his lips with a hitch in her breath, neck arching before her head settles on the grass, eyes closed and rosiness blossoming across her cheeks as the rise and fall her chest quickens. ]