Okay, [he mumbles, almost before Joseph's finished saying the same, pressing himself into the touch to his face and squeezing Joseph's hand. He was worried, for a second, that saying something would bring Joseph to his senses, somehow, that it would stop, that he wouldn't be able to kiss him and touch him again, but that's not what's happening. Joseph's kissing him, and he sighs and hums into it, pleased and relieved and delighted and overwhelmed.]
[He doesn't seem to know what to do with his other hand, besides just hang on; it's curved against Joseph's cheek for a moment, then comes to rest on his neck, his arm. He spends a moment or two, as he stumbles after Joseph, tracing his fingers slowly and curiously down Joseph's chest and stomach, but it becomes really obvious really quickly that that and kissing are going to lead him to trip over his own feet. So he hooks his fingers into Joseph's belt loops and squeezes his hand and keeps the distance between them as small as he can, leaning up to greedily meet every kiss.]
Don't stop, [he manages, in a tiny space for breath.] Don't stop kissing me.
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[He doesn't seem to know what to do with his other hand, besides just hang on; it's curved against Joseph's cheek for a moment, then comes to rest on his neck, his arm. He spends a moment or two, as he stumbles after Joseph, tracing his fingers slowly and curiously down Joseph's chest and stomach, but it becomes really obvious really quickly that that and kissing are going to lead him to trip over his own feet. So he hooks his fingers into Joseph's belt loops and squeezes his hand and keeps the distance between them as small as he can, leaning up to greedily meet every kiss.]
Don't stop, [he manages, in a tiny space for breath.] Don't stop kissing me.