Romans & histoires Forehead Touching

Our heads bumping against each other with a soft thud. "Ouch!" She chuckled, palm pressed against her forehead. "I'm so sorry." I laughed back, placing my hands on her forehead. "That must hurt like hell." "It really does." She answered. We both laughed, losing sense of our surroundings. And for a while, my hands remained on her forehead. Soft, warm. Our laughter faded, eyes locked into one another. Standing only an inch away. Her warm breath fell against my skin, my heart throbbing at every pulse.

He rested his forehead over hers, their lips still touching. "Come"

She did not know how he will be taking physical contact or else she would have hugged the man right then in order to comfort him. Of course, she wasn’t aware whether or not he was fond of hugs and considered them to be comforting. He was a strange fellow after all. Although knowing that he was not fond of other people touching him, she extended her hand towards him and touched his forehead. Seeing how he did not slap her hand away, she took this to be her opportunity and placed the back of her hand in his forehead to feel his temperature. It appeared that he was burning up, and for the dramatic effect, she let out a wince.

“Is it that bad?” He laughs. There is a different quality on it. He’s still breathless after all. Then he touches his forehead on mine and closes his eyes. I close mine too as he gently touches my cheeks. He just proved me wrong. Seems like he’s not all that hard. He can do sweet things like this too.

I confessed, my voice faltering slightly. Before I could pull away, he touched my chin softly with his finger, lifting my face until it was level with his. He let out a heavy sigh, almost a sound of exhaustion he couldn’t hide, and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were holding all the pain and weight of the world there with me.

Then he touches my forehead with his to look deep into my eyes. He initiated the forehead-to-forehead contact between us after we lost our parents and I started having emotional breakdowns. That day, I flew into an uncontrollable rage and attacked my martial art coach for cussing at me. I wouldn't stop hitting him until some people grabbed and handcuffed me to an iron bench that was bolted to the floor.

Placing my hand on his forehead, my heart twisted at feeling how hot he was. Pulling my hand back, I slunk off the bed and into the bathroom, where I retrieved a clean towel and soaked it with cold water. After ringing out the excess water, I returned to his side. Before placing the now folded wet cloth on his forehead, I massaged my thumb against the stress lines. When his forehead was relaxed, I gently placed the towel on his forehead.

I flick his forehead. "Aw! That's hurt. Why did you that?" He is in pain, and he put his hand on his forehead. I just giggle and hold his cheeks, he removes his hand that covers his forehead, and I pull him closer to me. I kiss his forehead, and I notice him smiling widely. "Aw! My cheeks hurt." He avoids contact with me, and I smile a bit while biting my lips. I kiss him on the cheeks, and he smiles again.

What if I harm him? My gaze softens and the anger subsides from my chest when my eyes land on his neck. There's a bandage over it but I can still feel the connection and slowly, I'm stepping forward again and lowering my head to touch his own. He stays perfectly still for me and I couldn't be more grateful. Just touching his forehead makes me heave a sigh and I feel a relief in my chest. The pain starts to subside and I close my eyes to feel all of me and all of him as he places his hand on my face-

“Mate.” His hands come up, both of them cupping my face with such reverence it almost undoes me. His palms are warm, holding me as his eyes search mine. He nods, once, twice, like he knows words are useless now. Then he leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine, and it’s like the world stops spinning.