There aren't any words, just a sharp intake of breath and Jack's hands at Ennis' back, at his waist, pulling the shirt up and out of his jeans to run his hands over warm skin. Stubble scrapes and Jack presses into Ennis, lean bodies straining against each other.

He's younger, different--the Jack that Ennis remembers, the one Ennis dreams of, with all his life before him and yet--

Even without being the Jack Ennis knows so well, he has one thing at least in common his older self.

This is all that he wants.

He kisses Ennis back, fiercely.