Nero tilted his head, sliding his mouth across Ephram's, lining them up with casual, crisp accuracy. His tongue slipped across his lips and traced Ephram's, wiping the light flavor of ale from them with a clean, meditated swipe. His grip around the glass shifted and his fingers twisted tighter around Ephram's hand--a minute sharpness, just a bare, lazy indication of intent. He pulled back slightly, allowing a whipser of air between them as his dark eyes focused on Ephram's face.

"I believe this is check," Nero commented and his smirk rose in tandem with his eyebrow. His free hand ghosted across Ephram's arm and his fingers wrapped around the white-haired man's wrist, wrinkling fine linen as he pulled them flush together.