"You are, are you?" His voice was a little lower, accent a little thicker. There was desire there, laced into each word but not dripping with it. Not yet. He smirked a little with the intentional mimicry of his own words from earlier, then leaned up to start up another slow, meandering kiss that had absolutely no hurry or urgency.

When it ended, he licked his own taste off Booker's lips and laid back against the concrete steps.

"Then I guess I'll have to be patient until you can stop kissing me, bello."