[the unease is tangible -- not pervasive, but a thin thread that runs through the teeming tapestry of Harry's emotions, woven between his desire and curiosity and awe. koby can feel it, can feel how it eases when he eagerly moves forward, hands seeking out the contour of harry's body again, meeting anxiety with youthful enthusiasm.

this time koby kisses messier, open-mouthed and hungry, the thrill of heat at harry's tongue in his mouth going right down to pulse at the apex of his thighs. he sighs, soft, sweet, eagerly melting into the habds exploring his body, chasing goosebumps over his flushed skin.] You were -- right. This is a good idea...

[breathless, between kisses, spreading his thighs and rocking the soaked fabric clinging to every flushed fold into harry's hand:] But if you don't -- hurry up I'm going to die, I think. Please. [a shudder, a needy grind of his hips, encouraging that dominant, authoritative role, submitting to it without question.] Please, sir?