[Milo made a small noise--not of protest, but simply surprise; oh God, Helga's body was pressed to his and Helga was here and she was kissing him--
And he wasn't resisting.
Why was that?
He couldn't piece together why. His hands and lips seemed to be moving of their own accord, eagerly responding to the woman in his arms. One hand moved to her arm and the other to her back; he shut his eyes and quietly kissed back.
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H--
[Milo made a small noise--not of protest, but simply surprise; oh God, Helga's body was pressed to his and Helga was here and she was kissing him--
And he wasn't resisting.
Why was that?
He couldn't piece together why. His hands and lips seemed to be moving of their own accord, eagerly responding to the woman in his arms. One hand moved to her arm and the other to her back; he shut his eyes and quietly kissed back.
Just for this moment.
Just for now.]
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She tilted her head further, pressed her lips harder against his.
She couldn't explain it to herself. This was Thatch.
He was scrawny, a scholar. She liked men who could fight. Soldiers, not cartographers. But in that moment... Right then...
She only needed him, and she only needed him to keep holding her.
Keep kissing her.]
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