Every tense muscle in his body relaxed when she agreed, without so much as a halting word of disagreement. He felt like he was melting against her, his head dropping down until it felt whatever part of her it reached, and then leaning against it. She agreed, and he had never needed anyone to agree with him more than he had at that one moment. Everything hinged on it.

And it was perfect.

He lifted his head just in time to be assaulted with a kiss more forceful than even Mimsy was normally accustomed to, and his eyes widened as he reeled in the strength behind it. She kissed him frequently nowadays (because he was the luckiest man alive, he tacked on as he always did when he thought of it) but this was an entirely different category of a kiss. This was the kind of kiss he thought he should have been giving her for agreeing with him. It was a very powerful thank you.

He took it, instead of wondering wildly about its cause, and returned the sentiment in triplicate.

The chair whined as it warned him it was set to break with any more force put on it, and he pushed forward - both in his kiss, and with his entire body, until he was standing with her smoothly wrapped up in his arms. He refused to break that kiss, even as he carried her away from all that delicious food - his stomach twinged with hate, and he ignored it - to bring her to the bedroom.

It wasn't exactly the kind of reaction that he thought he'd normally have when she told him something as dark as the tale she'd shared, but her kisses had a way of making everything less important than her.

It wasn't hard.

Well, it was.

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