[ the pull startles him -- but reflex kicks in before there's any need for thought: shifting in his seat to take the kiss at just the right angle, his hands settling on shiro's shoulders as his lips part to a ruthless kiss, chasing bruises and the lingering flicker of rain on his tongue, agonising in how familiar it feels. memory shifts at the back of his head like quicksand, all the fragments of their new-old history rattling echoes: one of these days you're going to fall. instinct's easier -- the surety of sliding a hand to cup shiro's still-damp nape, of breathing into a kiss that's nothing but quiet trust and the satisfaction of having him back.
there's no need to stop. as long as shiro doesn't have doubts, there's no need to slow down at all. ]
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there's no need to stop. as long as shiro doesn't have doubts, there's no need to slow down at all. ]