The kiss isn’t frantic, but it’s feverish. Emir’s hands are on his shoulders. Sebastian’s mouth parts, gasping, teased by Emir’s tongue. It’s thrilling and purposeful, and Sebastian’s heart is erratic. Emir’s lips could convince someone to kill dragons. They’re leaning into it, so, so willing. His fingers rub the nape of Emir’s neck, constant and sure.
