She was still having a hard time remembering to breath, with his mouth on hers; her eyes had fluttered closed and she was letting her mind silence itself with its terrified screams. This felt good- nice. She missed the affection, missed touch; even her argumentative, practical, logical brain understood--relished--the physical need.
Hestia shuddered when his arm went down her back, holding her secure, she hadn't felt like that in- weeks- months- longer then she wanted to admit... And while his hand, so precious in her own, was a familiar weight, she needed her own ability to touch him.
She let the grasp go slowly. Moving a hand up his arm, sliding until it was nearly at his shoulder, holding there slightly, grasping at the fabric... Hestia stepped a little closer, her feet rising up a little higher to gain more height, her lips pressing a little harder against his, desperate and yet terrified, almost holding herself back for fear of what could happen.