Kerr’s brain kicked into high gear at first, telling him to
be calm
don’t overreact
let him come to you
don’t fuck this up
relax and act natural... but thinking in such situations wasn’t natural for him. Ben was usually the one whose brain didn’t turn off and Kerr just followed his feelings but that was impossible when your instincts might ruin the moment. If he touched back, or his desire became overwhelming then it would stop and he wanted Ben’s confidence to grow, he wanted them to make a good memory to overwrite the bad, he wanted Ben not to hate his own actions, he wanted... bah, it wasn’t about what he wanted!
His mind was a hornet’s nest and it made him hesitant in Ben’s hold. He tried to resist the closure of the embrace, knowing what would happen but his brain insisted he yield to Ben also, so he allowed himself to be positioned like a doll. He watched the hornets fly as Ben began kissing him, aware that if he let his concentration lapse for even a second, it would be his fault this brave gesture was ended and they’d be backsliding all the way to handholding and awkward smiles.
Kerr soon discovered that a funny thing happens when you fight your instincts, however; it doesn’t last. Especially when you’re attempting alien actions in a situation so familiar it’s imprinted on your bones.
Ben’s mouth moved against his and his resolve melted. So did his body. He relaxed into Ben, seduced by the promise of the intimacy he craved, rejoicing in the feel and smell and taste of the man he loved. Thoughts of reprisal and caution were replaced by feelings of care and adoration. He loved the feel of Ben’s chest against his, the security of his arms holding him close, the exhilaration of a tongue languorously exploring the cavity of his mouth and the reverence of his tongue.
Thus, Kerr’s overthinking about his expectations for the encounter shifted to a state of pure acceptance and appreciation. Thoughts were for times when Ben wasn’t entwined with him in bed, stoking his desire, exuding love through the tenderness of his touch. Kerr grew hard and wanting, cradled tightly between Ben’s hips but he didn’t press or rock. His hands caressed Ben’s back but they didn’t travel. His foot fitted itself to Ben’s, instep curved around instep but he didn’t rub. His jaw worked and his tongue slid against Ben’s but he didn’t dictate pace or angle, he savoured and received.
Pliant and feeling loved, Kerr accepted anything Ben was able to give, grateful to have him in his bed, in his heart, in his life.
