[that gets a laugh, a quavery bit of sound, fading into a shuddery sort of whine when harry’s hips twitch, when his hands – clever, careful anatomist’s hands – slip up over the shivery expanse of freckled, sunkissed skin. koby’s hands reach to cover them, guiding gently, up over his chest, tracing the scars again, lightly.]

S-So I’ve heard. [an exhale, an unconscious shudder of the slick, tight muscle that enfolds harry’s cock, rippling like waves, making koby’s head drop a bit as he pants open-mouthed, shivery.] I can – b-be honest like this, but, u-um. I might. Forget how to, ah. Talk. When you start moving.

[huffing out a laugh, he tugs harry’s hand to his mouth, kisses the palm of it.] S-Sorry in advance.