You beam at him and for a moment, just a brief one, he gets distracted from breathing.

"Shingo," Date says, sounding faintly sheepish. "I, ah, I'm not very fond of my first name, so. . ." He's awkward. He doesn't usually do this.

Actually, he never does this.

And yet.

His hands rub warm around your curves and angles, showing you with his closeness, if not the stiffness of his shoulders or words, that he wants you here, that he wants to stay close to you.

And though part of his mind doesn't understand, and is trying to bring more of his attention to this fact, the rest of him tucks one knuckle under your chin and tips your mouth up for another kiss.

And it sends his heart hammering away again, racing and shortening his breath as it goes.