He loves the sounds he can draw from him. Enjoys the little moans and sighs and laughter he can pull with a nip here, a kiss there, a well-placed draw of the tongue over a patch of sensitive skin. He wants to move faster, wants to collapse onto the pillows and strip now and indulge, but he waits, savors it.

This moment is too good, too surreal to just throw away like that in the heat of the moment. He does, however, reach up, flick away a few of the buttons at the top of Takeshi's shirt. He eyes the skin, smooths fingers over it and eventually leans in to press a kiss to his throat, moving down to his collar bone before raising his head up and taking his lips again.

They're still swaying, still rocking with their bodies pressed together, and it puts Ezio's heartbeat into a gentle lull, makes him feel as though every muscle has gone slack, even making the kissing lazy, but passionate.