I let out a sound, and it's almost a laugh, but at the same time, it couldn't be further from one. I reach for him. A hand on his cheek. The scarred side, because that's what I can reach with my free hand. Because I'm not thinking. Because I'm trying to make a fucking point.

I pull him into a kiss, and it's all teeth and tongue, harsh and demanding in a way that I usually hold back from, because I'm always so fucking afraid of scaring him off.