When his face showed his conflict, instinct smoothed her fingers softly across his brow, once, twice, slowly, before sliding a velvet-soft path down the side of his face. She'd forgotten how much she missed the feel of his skin, like it was made for her. Her palms itched to fill themselves with him, anywhere that they could find purchase.
But Morpheus was talking about responsibility.... and that made her smile a little. She lifted herself on her toes and curled her hand against the side of his neck, then tipped her head and traced his pulse with her lips -- not a kiss, no teeth, no tongue, only a slow and delicate stroke. The hand that hadn't left his waist gripped him tighter, and ah, that was magnificent, to feel him there under her hands.
When she looked back up at him again, it was with a question. Did he want to go back? They would have to, eventually -- that wasn't under debate. But now? Her fingers dug softly into him. A very powerful tugging in the center of her chest made her suck in a breath and let it out with a faint, faint sound that would've been a whimper if it had only been louder.