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A/N: Here's what I figure to have been going through Jack's mind during this scene. After this, I think my next fic will be what I think went on in the motel. Yum. I'll knock myself out.

"Life is not measured by the number of breathes we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." - George Carlin

Jack

Four years, twelve days. Fourteen hours, nineteen minutes behind the wheel.

Jack Twist's legs were stiff, but within seconds, resumed their coltish surge of vigor. Like a divine materialization at a mountain pinnacle, there he was. Ennis del Mar appeared at the top of the stairway. Grinning. Giddy as a schoolboy. Slapping his hands on the railing as he guffawed, Jack fucking Twist.

There he was. Jack's feet seemed to lift off the ground as the core of his chest swelled with long-suppressed sensations. There he was. Bounding down the stairs as if he'd sprouted wings. No mumbled greeting with an elusive gaze like Jack had feared in the back of his mind. No stiff shoulders. The self-inflicted shackles were off, and there he was. Ennis del Mar. His Ennis, the real Ennis underneath the glazed facade of detachment.

If Jack's heart swelled any larger, it would have erupted. Their chests thumped together as they collided, and their arms wrapped around each other, squeezing tight, and Jack was lifted off his feet, within the rapturous enclosure that was Ennis's arms. Ennis swayed them back and forth, as warmth pulsed beneath Jack's arms, within his rib cage, surging upward to form a searing lump in his throat. Jack swayed, his fingers clawing into Ennis's shoulders, ensuring that he could, in fact, keep hold of him, remain nestled in his arms.

Son of a bitch! Jack's mind exclaimed as his heart pumped a mile a minute. Son of a bitch. Where was this affection when they parted four years ago? Ennis said hello better than he said goodbye.

"Son of a bitch." Jack could barely choke the words out through the cankering blister that had formed in his throat. His lips had gone dry.

Ennis pulled away, glanced around. Jack fixed his mesmerized gaze on him, taking him in. Those high cheekbones, the lined lips, strong chin, sandy hair. There he was, their faces inches apart. How easy it was just then, Jack realized, just to tilt his head upward, their lips meeting in a kiss…

And there Ennis was, grabbing hold of him by the vest, pushing him backward, slamming him against the wall. There Ennis was, his touch real, his actions almost surreal, as his lips seized Jack's, as his saliva softened the dryness, as his hand cupped Jack's cheek, pressing their faces as close together as possible, consuming all that he could fit in his mouth, teeth sinking in, swallowing, gulping in all he could muster. He'd beat him to it.

It hit Jack like a lightning bolt just then, surging all throughout him, numbing the arms that rose up, the hands that gripped Ennis's cheek. He felt it, he knew, Ennis's grief. This was all that he'd hoped for, all that his yearning for which had kept him awake at night. There it was, the truth that stoic Ennis had guarded from mortal eyes. He'd missed him. Ennis had missed him desperately. The need, the want, the hunger that had slashed at their throats day after day, year after year, leaving them raw and blistering and moist - Jack could feel it. Consuming them both, Ennis from the inside, Jack by the lips that which Ennis tore into.

Jack gave a deep-rooted gasp, inhaling the scents of Ennis's breath, wishing it to materialize into a branding iron to sear it into his being so it could never leave. Hissing saliva, the stench of beer and cigarettes, the naturally soft, supple, scent of Ennis's head of hair. The head of hair that Jack loved to nestle in, cheeks and lips, run his hands through. Jack's heart raced. His breath quivered. His mind screamed.

Son of a bitch. Kiss me till your breath runs out! I love you. You know I do, I know you do. Damn you! If I knew all it took was to go away for four fucking years… You can't say it? Fine. I'll settle for this. I'll settle for this! Fuck it, I love you! I love you, you emotionally retarded son of a bitch!

So much going through his mind, so much pulsing urges in a whirling, turbulent rush within him, that when their lips parted, Jack could do no more than gaze, rendered paralyzed by the voltage that rooted them to the spot. Their eyes locked, pupils perfectly aligned by the proximity of their faces.

Jack's insides trembled as energy reclaimed him, and his fingers on Ennis's cheeks clenched, jerking him forward, letting his own lips have their claim.

They pulled apart, Ennis gasping for breath. Jack's mind whirred, his breath caught in his throat, rendered dazed, his mind clouded with blind instinct. He clung to Ennis's collar, tilting his head upward. Those lips. He wasn't done with them yet.

Don't stop. Now, goddamn it, take me. Take me! Here, now! For fuck's sake, fuck me!

As if reading Jack's thoughts, Ennis quickly composed himself, turning away, breathing in and out. He pried Jack's hands off him, then gently pushed their faces further apart. Jack couldn't shield his disappointment.

Now, please, Jack's mind whimpered. He'd waited too long, just too long, and there Ennis was, still not ready for the taking.

"Hey," Ennis breathed, leaning in. Reassuringly he gave Jack's cheek a caress, his thumb brushing his eye as if wiping any tear that might fall. Closing his eyes, Ennis nuzzled him, narrowly avoiding lip contact. Jack's lips tingled, the moist rawness quickly surging back into his throat.

Ennis turned abruptly away, and Jack simply stood there in a daze, taking a minute to comprehend that he was supposed to follow him inside. Fine. He could wait. It could wait. Because, hell, it was worth waiting for.

As stimulation, the numbed coils of Jack's mind immediately began working to make plans. What he'd do, what he'd demand Ennis do. No way he'd let Ennis resist him for much longer.