[In that, they're of one mind. Nikolas can read the mood and the body language like a book even with his eyes closed. This one counts. He moves one hand to slip into Winter's hair, behind his neck, holding him gently there in place—no forcing or coercing, just the pure intimacy of touching, untainted this time by everything else that's darkened it before. His lips part gently, oh so gently, an invitation that he waits for Winter to accept.]
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