Through the weeks they have been indulging in this little dalliance of theirs, Benedict likes to think he's gotten fairly competent at this kissing lark. He is, at least, relatively comfortable doing it, has finally given up the constant fear that he will somehow bite her or nick her lips with his sharp teeth, which had been a not inconsiderable concern at the beginning.

Benedict has spent his entire life compensating for what he is, being extra careful of his strength and his speed, and this is just one more instance where he must be aware of the fact that he is different from those around him.

He tips his head back as Ninon runs her fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face, her nails scratching in a way that never fails to send a little shiver of pleasure tripping down his spine.