[ Tim’s body and his brain are perfectly aligned, wanting and comfortable. The heat never truly left his skin, going from fooling around in the leather armchair to snuggling up and sharing that warmth here in bed, but it’s visible again, lighting up his body, freckled pink on firm muscle with a dark trail of hair. Every kiss is an affirmation to soothe his fears, every lap of tongue something to squirm about with anticipation. Sometimes, he’s been self-conscious about how reactive he can be, how his voice goes high and his eyes well up, far from any stoic masculine ideal.

But Harry looks at him like he put the sun in the sky all on his own, like some perfect, sacred thing. The shame doesn’t come. ]

Still good. Don’t worry. We’ve got all day.

[ With a pleased smile on his face, he cups Harry’s cheek, rolling his body underneath him in a slow grind, half-hard already with all the attention. ]

I’m sure whatever filthy things you’re thinking about doing to me will be wonderful.