Hakkai lets out a startled moan at the press of Eiffel's lips against his neck, the tug of his grip at the base of Hakkai's skull, and his hips hitch forward involuntarily. Both of his hands tighten, one on Eiffel's bicep and the other still wound through his curls, as if to anchor himself in place against the swell of an unexpected wave.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Eiffel touches him so gently, but it is anyway, shocking and new, entirely distinct from Jedao's touch, or -- so much longer ago now -- from Kanan's.

Hoarsely, he manages, "I -- don't mark my neck where it'll show, but I like to be marked..." It's not a conversation he's had with Jedao yet, not when he'd come here expecting to stop at a kiss, but -- sticking with the same rules seems safe, for now.