stalkers beware, we got smooches
Sex is better with booze. Most things are better with booze and if he wasn't already dead then maybe that's something he should examine about his life, but he is and he won't. They've always been good at this, crashing, bleeding, raising the stakes and now there's nothing to hold them back. This is something that should've happened months ago and the anticipation alone makes him happy that it didn't.
He groans into the kiss, grinding his hips down at Jack's with great enthusiasm. He doesn't even care what they end up doing as long as they're doing it and the warmth of a living, breathing person under him is more intoxicating than the whiskey.