Eiji is content as-is, too, until the moment when his neck starts developing a crick and he has to push Ankh gently away.

He swings up to a sitting position, and swings his legs around so he's back-first towards the no doubt lovely Paris skyline and face-first toward the only thing that matters at the moment.

It makes kissing a lot easier, and cupping Ankh's face more firmly in his palms is better. Keeping a hold of him is better; he has nights where he wakes in the middle and has to find Ankh, remind himself he's actually there, actually himself. There's no panic in the way Eiji presses his lips to Ankh's, just relief.