He looks down at her again when her hands cup his scarred cheeks, and though there's still something a little lost in his eyes, they brighten with gratitude when they find hers again. Want. He's never had a want before that hadn't been given to him by somebody else.

Well, no. He does have one, he realizes: an impulse that's gripped him a few times since she first lay down with him in the cab. He hasn't done anything about until now, not the least of all because it's not a thing he's ever done before, but she says whatever you want to do, and he doesn't think she'll mind -- so he ducks down and kisses her, very quickly, very briefly.