[ There's one kiss that stands out in his memory. It had been on the banks of the river, the both of them laid out upon the grass. She'd tasted of strawberries (they'd gone into the berry patches earlier in the day) and he'd thought he could taste the sun, too, if only for the way it had been haloed in her hair. He'd been buoyed on by the moment for a week.
It's a dusty reel, now. This moment is not quite as bright, caught in a small cottage off the coast of nowhere, but it sets a fire in the very depths of him. Nothing ostentatious, nothing too high, but steady.
He doesn't bother saying anything in reply. Instead, he kisses her again, a little more plying, but still hinged upon her comfort as opposed to his own need (more alive than he'd remembered it to be, though still easily kept at bay). His other hand finds her shoulder, both to hold her close and to urge her up, their respective poses somewhat awkward as they are. ]
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It's a dusty reel, now. This moment is not quite as bright, caught in a small cottage off the coast of nowhere, but it sets a fire in the very depths of him. Nothing ostentatious, nothing too high, but steady.
He doesn't bother saying anything in reply. Instead, he kisses her again, a little more plying, but still hinged upon her comfort as opposed to his own need (more alive than he'd remembered it to be, though still easily kept at bay). His other hand finds her shoulder, both to hold her close and to urge her up, their respective poses somewhat awkward as they are. ]