Kavinsky rested his head against Lee's hip for a moment, even after Lee had requested that he move up. It wasn't that he didn't want to. He did. But he needed a moment to catch his breath, to make sure his lips were clean, to make sure he wasn't tear streaked or actively crying for the want to be held, to be wanted, to be needed for more than just this.

When he'd pulled himself together, he slid up Lee's body, long and lanky and rangy. He tangled up against him, tucking in, until his lips were close to Lee's mouth and their hips were gently pressed together. Everything felt over stimulated and over sensitive, but he couldn't do anything about that.

"Like this?"