[ This is what she should have become drunk on, she thinks hazily when she feels his tongue asking for permission to enter and she grants it to him. The taste of him is so heady, so lovely that the loud voice that had been dissuading her from doing more of this can't properly break through the haze of content that she finds herself in. No wonder Claude enjoys kissing him, she thinks. No wonder he looks at Sylvain the way he does. There's more than just how he kisses of course. Sylvain is more than his body despite his determined dodging of that fact but that doesn't change the fact that he kisses so well that she could cry.
And while she doesn't cry right now (that would simply add to more of her despair in the morning when she wakes up to realize everything that has transpired this evening), she does whine when he pulls away. The whine is partly directed at the distance and then at his words. ]
I won't hate you. I just told you how I felt, didn't I?
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And while she doesn't cry right now (that would simply add to more of her despair in the morning when she wakes up to realize everything that has transpired this evening), she does whine when he pulls away. The whine is partly directed at the distance and then at his words. ]
I won't hate you. I just told you how I felt, didn't I?