[When Matt joked about not wanting to imply that amputees aren't whole, Liem had thought that it seemed to cut too close to reality for there to be any humour in it—and as he kisses him again, the noise he makes doesn't sound like it comes from someone whole. He's far too familiar with small, starved noises like that one to hear it as anything but desperate, anything but the sound of someone who has survived for far too long without something they need. He feels guilty as a throb of relieved recognition flares behind his ribs.
He feels Matt sink deeper into their kiss, feels the arm around his waist tighten, and he fits himself closer against him, abandoning the empty flask to loop his other arm around his neck. His lips part to admit Matt's tongue; his thumb strokes softly over his cheek. And he murmurs against his lips.]
Matt.
[There's a hint of heat in the word now, to match the warmth that has burned its way down his throat. He tips his head by the barest degree, grazing Matt's lower lip with his teeth.]
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He feels Matt sink deeper into their kiss, feels the arm around his waist tighten, and he fits himself closer against him, abandoning the empty flask to loop his other arm around his neck. His lips part to admit Matt's tongue; his thumb strokes softly over his cheek. And he murmurs against his lips.]
Matt.
[There's a hint of heat in the word now, to match the warmth that has burned its way down his throat. He tips his head by the barest degree, grazing Matt's lower lip with his teeth.]