[ And he's there to soften her fall, to keep her from hitting the bottom, his embrace warm and reassuring, cheek pressed to her hair as he hugs her close. A daze clouds his senses, not that of desire but of simple surprise — that she would enjoy this, that she would want him at all. But, that said, he won't question it, and he won't be ungrateful. He knows how precious love is. ]

Of course, of course, [ he whispers, some of that giddiness still readily audible in his voice. ] Yes, a million times yes. For as long as you wish. [ The last part is a fallacy, of course, but a wish that he holds true. As if to demonstrate the point, he kisses her again, one of his hands sliding slowly down her back to rest just above the curve of her backside.

They could be happy, he thinks, the thought fueling his passions. A little cottage by the sea, perhaps, or a flat closer to the city. Something normal. No one would think to question them too long, no one would question the matter of whether or not she could love at all. ]

Some day, [ he manages, the words spoken against the corner of her mouth, ] I'll take you away from here. We'll live together somewhere nice, go wherever we like. Would that make you happy?