There was a certain thrill to kissing when it wasn't something you had done very often, and this time, it was with someone he had already kissed before. This time, he knew, there's could only be a flimsy excuse for what he was doing. He was tired, he was cold, he wasn't feeling well-- nothing that would hold. He accepted this.

The hand on his bare back and waist only made him bolder, as if he was being prompted to do more. Another kiss. Deeper. Tongues meeting.