Kavinsky tried to shut out the wash of guilty emotion in his chest, the pain and loss. He tried to focus on the moment, on this moment, on Lee's mouth and the feeling of his hair under his fingers. All he ended up doing was focusing on the cold stab of guilt in his stomach, that his last bit of tenderness had been in the morning of New Years Eve, and now, the next was a man try to forget himself, trying to wash a taste out of his mouth of someone else.
A breath stuttered out of Kavinsky's chest and he looked up at the ceiling of Lee's apartment, rather than down at his head. He stared for a moment, then clenched his eyes shut, trying hard just to have this moment, letting his body be sand in a desert, desperate for the contact, for the touch, for the feel of another body. It wasn't hard to be like that. That was the most frightening part was how badly his body craved the attention, the affirmation, of someone else's touch.
When Lee stopped his adorations and set to actively sucking Kavinsky's cock, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. He gripped the edge of the counter top with one hand, biting his lip, holding himself back from the edge. For all he was worth, he couldn't look down at Lee, couldn't see that avoidance, that despair that he wasn't someone else who ought to be standing here. His fingers danced on Lee's hair, trembling.
"Do you..." His voice faltered, the waters choppy and rough in his chest, and he had to heave in a breath, had to look down at least a little. "...do you want me to come or, or should I wait?"
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A breath stuttered out of Kavinsky's chest and he looked up at the ceiling of Lee's apartment, rather than down at his head. He stared for a moment, then clenched his eyes shut, trying hard just to have this moment, letting his body be sand in a desert, desperate for the contact, for the touch, for the feel of another body. It wasn't hard to be like that. That was the most frightening part was how badly his body craved the attention, the affirmation, of someone else's touch.
When Lee stopped his adorations and set to actively sucking Kavinsky's cock, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. He gripped the edge of the counter top with one hand, biting his lip, holding himself back from the edge. For all he was worth, he couldn't look down at Lee, couldn't see that avoidance, that despair that he wasn't someone else who ought to be standing here. His fingers danced on Lee's hair, trembling.
"Do you..." His voice faltered, the waters choppy and rough in his chest, and he had to heave in a breath, had to look down at least a little. "...do you want me to come or, or should I wait?"