He had only a moment to react, to respond to that press of lips against his own, demanding and greedy. Another day, another life, he might have resisted, planted hands upon shoulders to push away. But that wasn't him right then. No, he was starved, a man dying for affection, for contact, for connection with another human being, even if it was fleeting. So he gave into that kiss with a breath released, hand lighting upon a slender arm.
Even if he didn't remember, his body did. Heat rising, pooling, and it was his turn to get demanding with the kiss, to take and to drink and to devour as that hand, once tentative and unsure, lifted to lay upon the side of Trystan's neck, turning in towards him to deepen the moment with a groan that came from somewhere deep.