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As soon as the door closes, you’re jumping into Evan’s arms. Your legs close around his waist, and you’re practically smashing your lips onto his. You missed him oh so much; video calls every night and good morning texts could only do so much. The kiss is needy and sloppy, but you’re desperate. Desperate for his touch and affection, and he’s no better.
His bags are long forgotten on the floor. Instead, one of his hands is under your thigh, holstering you up, while the other runs up and down underneath your shirt. Meanwhile, your hands are tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it just to get closer to him.
If it wasn’t evident already, you missed him. You hated how he had to go away for filming all the time. You’d miss his warm body next to you at night, and you’d hate waking up to an empty space next to you. So now that you finally had him all to yourself, you were determined to make every moment count.
Your lungs are burning at the lack of oxygen, but you still whine and chase after his lips as he pulls away. He’s out of breath, his hair is a mess, his pupils are blown wide, and his lips are red and puffy. You don’t think that he’s ever looked better.
“Hi” you whisper as if he’s a dandelion that’ll fly away if you blow a bit too hard.
“Hey” he whispers back, completely out of breath as he rests his forehead against yours. Your gaze falls to his upturned lips again. The adoration you both have for each other clearly visible on your faces. Your face probably has that droopy grin decorating it once more, and you couldn’t care less.
All you care about is that he’s home again. And all you can think about is how you want to kiss him again. So you do.