Upon that overwhelming realization—that he was definitely in love with Florian—Heinz deepened the kiss, pouring everything into it.
His fingers curled into Florian's hair, anchoring him there as their mouths moved in sync, tongues tangling in a feverish dance.
'Mine.'
But then—Florian gently pressed a hand against Heinz's chest, breaking the kiss with trembling fingers.
Heinz froze, confused for a moment, his brows furrowing in concern. He pulled back just enough to see Florian's expression.
Both of them were breathless, gasping softly, lips flushed and damp. Florian's eyes were lidded with desire, but there was no fear—only aching need.
"Is something wrong? Does it hurt?" Heinz asked, voice softer than usual, barely more than a whisper.
Florian's cheeks were crimson, and he wouldn't quite meet Heinz's eyes. He swallowed hard before whispering, "M-Move…"
The word was fragile, but laced with unmistakable longing.
'Oh.'
