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Touko felt feverish with desire: limbs shaking, skin slick, breath harsh in her throat. She tossed her head, lower lip caught between her teeth, and hand moving beneath the blanket, lower, lower. She thought of Amon, his lips on her breasts, his hair wound between her fingers.

She rubbed sticky fingers against her belly, later, still aching with the want of him.

Amon shares Touko's bed in more than her dreams, now. His hands are sure against her body, and his eyes thaw until meeting his gaze is almost bearable. He makes her gasp, and cry, and dig her nails into his back, and Amon never gives up more control than he choses to.

It isn't fair, Touko thinks, that her dream lover should make her happier than the reality.