*clutches you tightly to him, as though trying to convince himself you're really here (and if he's imagining the press of your body, the scratch of your stubble, the faint scent of pine clinging to your clothes, it must be the cruelest dream ever)*
*breaks away from your lips with a soft, surprised inhale* How? *just as quickly buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, murmuring the answer to his own question* I don't care how.