it’s instinct before it’s anything else. the frantic hammer of a heartbeat still thundering in his chest ( -- ALIVE, SO RIDICULOUSLY ALIVE ) fails to dim sensory logic. arms wrap around the broad expanse of a bulwark’s shoulder, a hug, desperate and cloying with a hint of vague appreciation for cutting a mindflayer in half before it whittled away the remainder of a certain gunslingers life. but oh, how he aches between panting breath and sagging legs, muscle twitching with soreness already and he musters out just a touch of laughter between heaves.
❛ thanks, big guy ❜ prompto murmurs, dazed and delirious with an absurd amount of glee that his body needn’t be dragged off the field of combat. his finger hitch into a thick neck and perhaps it’s the adrenaline pulsing through his veins but this idea ? it seems like a good one. and before he can second guess himself ( and he will, much later on ) , the blond dares to skirt his mouth along the edges of the taller’s, peppering a chaste affection to scarred tiers.
he sighs against a stalwart jaw, still holding tight, ❛ — i owe ya. ❜ // @kxngsshield ( for a smooch ! )