Kavinsky sighed against Lee's mouth, his lips tingling and raw with the tenderness of it. He opened his eyes when Lee pulled back from him, taking him in, watching him as he moved and stripped naked. Slowly, he ran his fingertips over the thin skin stretched over Lee's ribs, down to his hips. As Lee leaned in to kiss him again, he dragged him in even as he pressed. He didn't squeeze--not scared of bruising, but worried of rushing, of seeming too desperate for the contact--but he held onto him.

As Lee started to gently rock against him, Kavinsky rocked back. He was still soft for the moment, and the touch was overwhelming, overstimulating, but that was half the allure of it, making his eyes roll with the sensation of it. He drew a hand from Lee's hip to his cock, touching him gently.

He was thicker than Kavinsky, longer, and neither of those were surprising to him; most men were, Kavinsky had found, who was so painfully, plainly average in that regard. The warmth of Lee's cock filled out his palm, and Kavinsky groaned into Lee's mouth, stroking him slowly, coaxing. He teased his fingers up to the head, easing the foreskin back deftly and then rubbing the crown with his thumb.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Kavinsky whispered, lips barely moving away from Lee's mouth. He didn't care if they laid down here in the kitchen, or on the couch, or in a bed. But being horizontal sounded far more appealing at the moment.