This does feel almost normal. Like something that might've happened back home with her (in another time, in another place). It pushes out all the thoughts of death that still hover perilously close, even in this little walled community, and allows him to just be. It's a good feeling, even if it's not a choice or something he brings up consciously. Instead, all of his attention and all of his actions are on her and the way she kisses him and the way her fingers slide against his skin. The kiss is breathless, sweet, and agonizing all at once. It builds, making his spine arch just slightly, hips dipping against her as they press closer.

Then there are teeth against his lip and he makes a low noise as she tugs against him -- part laugh, part noise of desire. His eyes flash as he stares down at her and then he leans down and kisses her again. It's harder, a bit more possessive, eager. His skin seems to be too tight to hold in all of the energy that wants to escape, that wants to find a way through him and into her. It's been -- well, a very long time since he's actually kissed to tried to hold someone like this and it means he's a bit clumsy about it.

His eagerness hopefully makes up for it. His hand finds her hip and then slides over the denim of her jeans and just under the hem of his shirts, moving cautiously, as if he doesn't want to push anything. His fingers ghost over bare skin where he finds it, fingertips curled as he starts to draw tiny little circles.