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Summary
He straddles Kazuma without breaking apart once, hands searching for either side of his face to keep him close. There's a feel of desperation on his fingertips. They're twitching and they're squeezing, getting lost between his tousled hair in a suspiciously possessive grip, one that silently asks him to stay.
He shouldn't have to, because Kazuma has stayed for 500 years, and he gladly would for 500 more.