"Exactly. You don't know my name. You don't have a scar," He shakes his head. Either Hell was getting lazy or his memory was starting to fade. The latter would actually be pretty worrying if his thoughts weren't so jumbled and distracted.

"You're barely Abel at all," He mumbles, tilting his head to run his tongue along Abel's lower lip, tasting copper. He groans, leaning into Abel, pressing his tongue past his lips as he kisses him. It's still forceful and possessive but there's underlying emotion. He can't help it. Abel might not be a perfect copy but he's close enough to tug at his nostalgia and homesickness. He tastes the same, feels the same.

"Fuck, I want you," He barely breaks the kiss to pant the words against Abel's mouth, rocking his hips forward to grind against Abel, already hard from whatever was affecting him.