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They're hardly in the room before Ennis has Jack pinned against the wall, hands scrambling at his shoulders, kissing where he can. It's hard to remember that this isn't his Jack. This is some other, younger, different Jack. But he smells like Jack and tastes like Jack and kisses like Jack.
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"Ain't done it for a long while. Jesus. Forgot you was so damned good."
The cigarette gets handed back, and Jack pushes a hand up through his hair, standing it up wild.
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"Ain't nothing like this."
He reaches back for the cigarette, just one more puff, and he's closing his eyes, leaning his head over on Jack's shoulder.
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He watches Ennis, though, and his hand comes up, gentle, to brush over Ennis' cheek, over sweat-damp hair, before his own eyes slide shut and he lets out a long breath.
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A few moment later, he has drifted off.