[He had to learn to be direct when he needed to be, to take what was needed, do what needed to be done. He was on the front line of the final battle, each and every time it was orchestrated. Facing down death so many times, knowing the destruction of your world ... broke down a lot of barriers. A lot of his verbal games were played out of fear. An unwillingness to make real waves in the world.

So he just fucking kisses her for all he's worth, feeling himself pulled closer against her, moving so he's flush against her, his tongue dancing with hers, a mad rush of blood going down to all of the best and worst places.

One thing he was getting tired of, though, were all the clothes she was wearing. Yeah, he wanted to see her naked, but even more, he wanted to feel her against him, skin to skin.]