Surely there is no problem with this. Rosinante had been careful to test the waters, to help reassure Will that this is what he wants, and now he wonders if he might have opened the floodgates.

Will is so small against him, so easy to hold close as he relishes the feel of those soft lips on his. For the moment, there's nothing at all to say even with the fortune teller's compulsion in effect. It is so nice not to think in terms of words at all, but simply to indulge in warmth and to relax into Will's hold. He sighs against Will's mouth, traces a hand down his spine, then eventually pulls his head back if only so he can catch a real breath. He makes no effort at all to separate any farther than absolutely necessary.

His eyes remain shut for a moment before he slowly opens them and smiles down at Will, pink tinting his cheeks. "Wow," he sighs, but only briefly is he at a loss for words.

"Now I really don't want to go anywhere. You're making it impossible to leave. Which is a good thing," he points out before that can be taken the wrong way. "I just wish I could still taste. I want to know what you taste like."