A few hours slipped by quietly, but the closeness between Seraphine and William never truly faded.
Their lips had parted and met countless times, sometimes slow and lingering, sometimes desperate, as if stopping even for a moment would break something fragile between them.
"Sera… mhmm… we should stop," William murmured finally, his voice was rough and breathy.
"Tsk," Seraphine complained instantly as she pouted.
"It's my dream, Willy. Why the hell are you complaining?"
[At this pace, your lips will swell to a point that kids would call you an ogre]
William cried inside his mind, "Why do I feel that she knows it's all real and is just pretending not to know? (┬┬﹏┬┬)"
William tried to stop her, but her lips claimed his again before words could form.
His protest dissolved into breath as she kissed him with stubborn insistence, refusing to give him space.
"My lips… hrrt..." he muffeled faintly, only for her to press closer.
