Kavinsky laughed, not unkindly, as Lee touched him so cautiously and gently, like he was a flight risk. It was such a contrast to what he was used to, he was expecting, especially that he'd given up limits. He didn't contest the touch, though it, more than anything, made him wary.

He slanted his hips toward Lee's touch, seeking it. "That's certainly one way to do it," Kavinsky said, that laugh still lingering in his voice, and he smiled. He didn't miss the way that Lee looked at his mouth, the way that he had been looking at his mouth and kept looking at his mouth. Kavinsky licked his lips, shifting his thumbs down to the waist of his shorts to slowly peel them down.

There was a moment, however brief, where Kavinsky let himself be a shy teenage boy about himself. He was tall and rangy, lean, but when it came to his cock he felt insufficiently average, and his European heritage had kept him uncut--a point of embarrassment throughout years of showering in gym class.

His cock didn't get the memo on being embarrassed. Almost as soon as he pushed his shorts down, he went from half to fully hard, with all the blinding enthusiasm inherent of being a teenage boy.