[on his part, there's a sense of deep, echoed pleasure, there's no one else in the world, and some surprisingly firm self-restraint of his own: this much, and no more, or he'll get scared or yell at me . . . it's hard, but this much is good, too . . .
[shivers a little at that, nerves and the briefest hint of wistfulness both, but resolutely concentrates more on the immediate kiss itself, and how much he does like it, and enjoys the closeness, for however long he allows himself to have it]
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and, of course, some very deep, undeniable lust]
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[XXX
sorry!]
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[well, of course]
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and sharing some of that with him, the simple, uncomplicated heat in his chest and belly whenever they're together]
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