“We taste and suckle each other, and I'm so thirsty he could feed me his kiss all night and I'd still be dying in the desert.”

“He leaned over and kissed me. A long, deep kiss filled with promise and passion. I loved the way he kissed me. Like he was drinking in the taste of me and still coming back thirsty.”

“When Nico bent to kiss me, I shut my eyes, absorbing all that was familiar about him - his taste, the softness of his lips, his arms holding me steadily - and I could tell he was the same, drinking me in, committing my kiss to memory as we found our way home to each other in the gathering dark.”

“We held each other the entire night, no words spoken but the still, silent night uttered so much.”

“We kissed each other until we were too tired to keep going. I could still feel him holding back. It was my penance for what I had done to him. All I could do was hope the walls would fall and that I could have all of him again, but I was always leaving and he was tired of watching me walk away. We both knew that I couldn’t stay and that he couldn’t come with me, but still, we couldn’t let go.”

“He's kissing me, quick desperate kisses, like I'm something he needs to live; and I'm kissing him back, crazy with the ache I feel for him, trying to kiss him better, trying to fix him. I'm touching his face, feeling the roughness of his beard, the wet of his tears, feeling the tremors passing through his body, hearing his ragged breathing. And each kiss is a failure. A failed attempt to escape from all that's happening. And I only know this when he slows, drawing it out, letting me taste regret, letting things linger. He pulls away, and I'm saying "Don't, don't, don't", trying to bring him back, kissing his face. But I've lost him.”