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Summary
The kiss is slow, but no less desperate for it. Something in Sae starts to uncoil, coaxed out with every pass of Shidou’s warm tongue.
Sae could drown in this feeling—maybe already has. Or, perhaps he's being slowly boiled alive by the heat that has always simmered between them. Like a frog in the pot, blind to the lethal truth. He’s aware that this ends poorly for them, but he can’t seem to care when Shidou’s fingers are pulling at the roots of his hair, or bruising the skin on his hip.
Or, Sae visits Shidou in Paris to see what they could become.