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The first kiss they share when he wakes up is gentle, feather light and betraying a nervousness Qifrey feels guilty for. Guilty because kissing Olruggio feels like muscle memory to him; he's done it before, more than a few times. But Olly doesn't remember, doesn't know that, so his kiss is that of someone afraid of stepping on their dance partner's toes. Then, he sucks in a sharp breath like he didn't realize what he'd done and pulls back a hair.
Qifrey's hands grip the air until he catches the front of his cloak, afraid he'll retreat further and he won't be able to follow, won't be able to work out the shapes in his new view of the world well enough to chase his heart down. Olruggio stills, hands raising to gently cup over Qifrey's.
"Sorry, I—"
I don't know what came over me. I don't know how to do this. I just love you and need you and wanted to touch you now that I know I can.
His hands tremble a little, pressed over Qifrey's. He hears Olruggio swallow, throat clicking. He's scared, he's so scared of… what? Qifrey? Rejection? Qifrey tried to chase him off ages ago, failed every time. He wouldn't dream of trying now that he can have Olruggio's lips against his.
"Let me show you," Qifrey says softly, raising one hand to hold Olruggio's jaw. He pets his thumb over his lips, feels them tremble too. "You're a very good kisser, Olly, I just need to remind you."
This gets a laugh and then barest hint of a smile, pressed into the pad of Qifrey's thumb. "Mmf you say so," he mumbles, talking out of the side of his mouth.
Qifrey feels a hunger coil in his gut he hasn't allowed to properly feed his entire life but pushes it down so when he brings their lips together again it's gentle and soft, no sharp edges. Because he wants the first kiss he gets from Qifrey, the first Olly can remember for the rest of their lives, to be something warm. He wants it to feel like home.
"See?" Qifrey whispers, thumb returning to that spot in the center of Olly's bottom lip he can't help but touch now that he's allowed to. "Some things you just don't forget."
Olruggio opens his mouth a little, lets Qifrey's thumb slip inside and presses his tongue against the pad. It makes his heart jump, fluttering in his ribs like a trapped moth that only gets more frantic when those soft, slightly chapped lips close around his thumb so he can suck on it.
"E—eh…" Qifrey means to say something here but nothing comes out. He hovers for a moment, still tilting down slightly toward Olruggio with the rest of his fingers cradling his cheek. Then, something cracks inside what little resolve he has left and he surges into him.
He pushes their mouths together, that hunger desperate and snarling in his gut. His thumb hooks at the corner of Olruggio's mouth to try and urge it open—not that he needs to, not that he isn't met with the same desperation the second he shows it. Drool drips down his wrist and he pulls his thumb free, smearing spit across Olly's face as he cradles it and replaces it with his tongue. He hopes he can fill the other man's lungs with his own breath so they know nothing but one another for this brief moment. He tries to force all of his want, all of his need, all of his hunger into one act that burns away all the old wounds in one cauterizing blaze.
When they finally part, breathless and panting, foreheads pressed together so hard there's a little thunk noise, the first thing Olruggio does is laugh softly, warmly, and the frantic wings of Qifrey's heart flap even harder against the inside of his chest. He eases himself even closer, weight sagging into the other man as arms wrap around his waist.
"That's more like it," Olruggio mumbles, smile catching on his bottom lip briefly as he nuzzles closer. Qifrey nuzzles back eagerly.
It's warm, it's so warm… Just like home.