[The feel of Sylvie's legs spread for him, wrapped around him to hold him tight - so fucking familiar, the second he feels the heel in the dip of his back it's a brand new memory that feels like a thousand others. He grins, licking a warm stripe up the side of Sylvain's throat before nipping beneath the shell of his ear, kissing at his pulse point and down his throat while Slyvie gropes him, spurring on more affectionate kissing of tender flesh. When he speaks, it's murmured against it:]

We don't have to move. We don't have to do anything but this for as long as you want.

[Because he understands - he wants to feel as intoxicated by this as he can, for as long as he can. It's always been dangerous, meeting up with Sylvie, because it poses a soft threat to their current lives to be so enamored with one another immediately. One of them often looks like they're taking advantage of the other - that'd be the read here, too, but even still:]

I just want to be with you. Breathe you in. Drink you down.

[Be together, like one, tangled up like tree roots.]

Not sure how I'm going to let you go, when all I want to do is keep you.