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Kankri can talk. If you’ve learned anything in your nine sweeps, it’s that some trolls can get to talking and just…Never stop. Kankri is one of them. Not that you mind, really, you have to admit to letting yourself go on and on with no regard for whoever may find themselves subject to whatever comes out of your squawk gaper. It’s a bad habit of yours, and when you think about it enough, you’re really in no place to complain about how much Kankri talks at any given time. You’re being given a taste of your own medicine.
“Are you listening to me, Cronus?” Kankri tugs on the sleeve of your tee shirt. You blink.
You weren’t listening, so you panic and manage to get out a hurried exclamation of, “yeah,” that you hope is more convincing than it sounds in your own ears.
Kankri gives you a look. “Yes, are you listening, or yes, in response to my previous question?”
Your bloodpusher drops a little in your chest because he knows. You can tell that he knows you weren’t listening, yet the next words out of your mouth are, “yeah to both, Kan.”
He clears his throat. You swallow. “That’s Kankri, thank you very much,” he says, “and I would appreciate it if you took greater care in the future to remember that.” He sounds like a nagging lusus, you think. The worst kind imaginable. “I have a name and I liked it being used, not these silly nicknames you keep giving me.”
“Right.” You sigh. You always feel bad when you upset Kankri. You try your best not to, but sometimes it feels like the most difficult task in the world. He’s so sensitive, and it’s not as if you find the way he is an inconvenience, it’s just that you wish you weren’t so conditioned to being the way that you are. You realized quite some time ago that you’d be content if the world were to revolve around you, and sometimes that pesters the shit out of you. You try your best for Kankri, though, because you really, truly care for him—you might go so far as to deem yourself flushed (or at least, pale) for him—and you don’t want to test what little patience he probably has left for you.
“Now,” Kankri interrupts your train of thought by clearing his throat. His hands are balled into fists. “Shall we get down to business?” He raises his arm, reaching for something. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s after.
He’s reaching for your left horn. Kankri fucking Vantas is reaching for your left horn. Your brain kind of short-circuits for a moment, and you jump back, because that’s too close. You’re almost positive Kankri is somewhat aware of how you feel toward him, and he’s always been respectful of people’s boundaries, regardless of how poorly he’s treated in return. “Woah there,” you half-laugh, “What’re you doin’?”
Kankri rolls his eyes, but you think you hear a hint of repressed amusement in his voice when he says, “you really weren’t listening, were you?”
Your pride won’t allow you to admit as much. “Hypothetically, let’s say I wasn’t,” you say. “Why don’t you tell me what you said?” Nice save, Ampora.
Kankri clears his throat. Is he blushing? You don’t trust your eyes enough to reach a consensus. “I asked if I could use you for a certain… interest of mine,” says Kankri, “I’ve always been so curious about the anatomy of seadwellers and, well.” He’s definitely blushing. “Since you’re already here, I was hoping that you might let me observe you, so to speak, and perhaps become more directly informed about you.”
You can feel yourself sweating. Becoming more directly informed? Is that what the grubs are calling it these days? You bite the end of your cigarette and laugh nervously. “Oh. Yeah, I knew that,” you lie. You hope it doesn’t sound as much like a lie as you think it does. “Go for it, Chief.”
Kankri suddenly looks lost as he lifts his hand to touch—something, you think—but just holds it in midair for a few seconds before the silence becomes a bit pressing.
You chew on your cigarette. The taste is starting to get to you. “You okay? You’re just kinda….sittin’ there.”
He’s definitely blushing. His cheeks are a faint cherry red and you don’t think you’ve ever been this enamored by something so subtle. Ever. “Oh. Yes.” His voice is quiet and his touch is gentle as his fingers finally, finally, graze over your cheek. He’s mumbling to himself, now, something about how your skin’s texture and temperature must have something to do with the fact that you spend most of your time in or around water. It’s cute, he’s cute, he’s so unabashedly fascinated by something that you’ve considered such a mundane aspect of your biology for your entire life.
You tell him so, but not in a way as complex as you’re thinking, perhaps. “It’s cute when you mumble to yourself ‘an all,” and then for good measure (to assure him that this is in fact, strictly platonic, of course, because what would he think of you revealing the true extent of your affections, especially now of all times?) you add a “but how’s about we keep the commentary to a minimum, yeah?”
“Oh. Of course,” says Kankri. You’re struck with a sudden pang of guilt. Perhaps you’ve been a bit harsh. “I apologize.” You want to tell him there’s no need, that he can talk all he wants, but he’s shifting again, humming to himself, deep in thought. He’s leant over on his knees, supporting his upper body with his left arm while he touches you with his right, and he’s unbalanced, you realize moments before he’s falling face first into your lap. (How awkward!)
It seems only appropriate that from here you assist Kankri in rearranging himself in your lap to allow him easier access to your face, but the moment your hand touches his back, the past four or five seconds seem to catch up with him and he’s grabbing your wrist. “Cronus!” His face is bright red now. “What makes you think that just putting me in your lap is okay? I’ll have you know I find this—”
“Relax, pal,” you feel bad for interrupting, but you don’t want to ruin this for yourself. You’re actually enjoying the prospect of this, and not because you believe you’re getting anything physical out of it, but because it seems to be making Kankri happy, or at least curbing some of his impending curiosities. “Just a way for us to be a little closer, is all.”
Kankri folds his hands together. “Well….Alright.” He avoids your eyes, albeit only for a moment. He’s nervous, and you worry that you’ve overstepped until he continues. “I think I would like to have a look at your gills next, if that’s alright with you.”
You pluck your cigarette from your lips, because he’s probably going to ask you to breathe at some point, and you’re not sure if you fancy raw tobacco and various other chemicals going down your wind chute because you don’t have enough self-restraint to stop yourself from chewing on the ends of your unlit cigarettes. “Sounds good to me,” you murmur, because it seems appropriate.
He leans in close, to a point where you can no longer see his face, and you allow yourself a fleeting hope that he’s going to kiss your neck. You want to smack your brain about at the thought, because Kankri is celibate, you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone so pure and innocent and uninterested in the mere discussion of sexual intimacy.
You want to smack yourself in the face when his fingers gently brush against your gills and you can feel your heart rate skyrocketing. “How does this feel to you, Cronus?” He asks, rubbing up and down. You have to stop yourself from purring, because that would indicate that you are approaching this in an entirely not-platonic, not-celibate way and you know Kankri wouldn’t be having any of it.
“Pretty swell,” you say, “bet it would feel even better if you kissed ‘em.” The second half of your statement was intended to be an afterthought. All things considered, you have more than enough self-control to keep such things from leaving your squawk blister in the first place, but you digress. You’re just being honest, after all, and if Kankri is allowed to be curious, so are you.
But you’re not, at least not to this degree, because Kankri pulls back the moment you finish your sentence. “Cronus, if you’re going to be like this about a perfectly reasonable request for the pursuit of knowledge, then I might just have to go ask Meenah to—”
“Hey now,” you interrupt him. You realize that you’re dangerously close to losing him again, here, and you have to once again remind yourself how delicate this entire ordeal is. “No need to be like that. I was just kiddin’.” He doesn’t look convinced.
“Very well.” Kankri’s hand returns to your neck. “Please let me know if I do anything that hurts you or makes you uncomfortable.” Almost to vex you, it seems, he presses down on your gills. Not hard enough to cause damage, but enough to hurt. You hiss, perhaps louder than is necessary considering what he’s doing doesn’t hurt all that much. He looks far more startled than you had expected him to, though, and suddenly you feel bad.
“I’m so sorry!” He looks really upset. Now you just feel like a Grade A bulgelick. “You didn’t tell me that I was hurting you!”
You laugh lightheartedly, nervously, anything to lighten the sudden shift in mood. “Nah, it wasn’t that bad,” you tell him. His expression softens with relief and you allow yourself to relax. Nice going, Ampora. Real nice.
“If that’s the case, could you possibly….take some deep breaths for me?”
You do. You close your eyes while you’re doing so; it feels like the right thing to do. You’d imagine that he’d want you relaxed for this. You’re trying your best. You could be imagining it, but you think you hear him laughing when you exhale for the fourth time. It’s a soft, gentle sort of laugh, and your bloodpusher aches in your chest because it’s so sweet, even if you’re just imagining the sound.
Kankri’s fingers are gone just as you begin to really enjoy their presence. “Well, I believe that is quite enough research on your gills,” he mutters, and you’re not sure if he meant to say it out loud. Before you can process what he’s doing, his hands—both of them, mind you—are on your horns.
You hum in surprise. “Hey, how is this research? You have horns, don’tcha?” The ministrations of his fingers are starting to make you a bit more dizzy than you had anticipated. You’re not used to trolls touching your horns. Most of them won’t get close enough to do so, or they’re just not interested. It’s common knowledge, or at least you thought it was common knowledge that horns are erogenous zones for most trolls. For the sake of keeping this interaction strictly platonic, you decide not to address it, though your bulge seems to have other plans.
“Mine are rather small,” Kankri says, “if you haven’t noticed, and I was wondering if the sensitivity of a troll’s horns was dependent on size.” Oh, it’s dependent on size, alright, you think. “Please inform me of how this makes you feel.”
Oh, you’d love to. How you’d love to. Your patience is wearing thin, because he’s rubbing his thumbs into the base of your horns, now, and you’re losing it. Your bulge is likely making a pretty mess of your pants by now, and if Kankri hasn’t noticed yet, he will soon, because he’s still in your lap.
You hum a bit, but make no other comments to indicate that his touches are affecting you on another level. “Hmm,” Kankri mumbles something under his breath, and then leans back. You place your cigarette back in your mouth. It’s soggy and that’s disgusting, but it’s something to keep your mouth occupied. “I was wondering….if perhaps….” he’s all red, and you wonder if what he’s about to ask is really that bad. There’s nothing left for him to do that can possibly affect you more than what he’s already done. “You might let me study another part of you.”
What’s left for him to study? You worry for a moment that he’s going to ask to touch your grubscars, but he surely must know that that’s really stepping into pailing territory. That’s got to be the most common knowledge out there. “Yeah, sure,” you say, and honestly, you’re just throwing caution to the wind at this point. If Kankri Vantas wants to touch your grubscars and give you a full on wiggly, that’s on him, not you.
You didn’t know it was possible for his face to get any redder. “Well….I don’t believe it’s that simple.” Is this guy for real? You think. He’s totally about to ask you if he can touch your grubscars. “You see, I was hoping I could get a look at….” here it comes. “Your bulge.”
For a moment, you’re positive you’ve heard him incorrectly. You’re proud of yourself for not spitting out your cigarette. You allow yourself to chuckle a little and raise an eyebrow, but that’s about it. “My what?”
He sighs, like he can’t believe the fact that you’re shocked. “At your bulge, Cronus. As I’m sure you know, I’m celibate, but I’ve found myself rather curious about the bulges of other trolls, specifically highbloods.”
“Wow,” you say. Get a grip, Ampora, you tell yourself. “Well, my bulge is at your service.”
Kankri scoots backward, and you assume he’s doing so to allow you space to remove your pants, and it’s only now that you realize that you’ve soaked through your pants. Slurry stains are a nightmare to remove from fabric, and these were your favorite pair of jeans. Screw you, Vantas.
He doesn’t jump right in, like you expected him to. He seems sort of shocked that you’re fully unsheathed, and he must know how bulges work, he has one, after all. Bulges don’t just unsheath of their own accord, unless you’re some kind of pupa with no control over your own body, but you’re not. You’re an adult troll, and you’ve been worked up to this shit. You can almost see the realization on his face. “Oy, Kankri,” you murmur, “you alright there, pal?”
“Yes, yes, of course!” You’ve never seen him this flustered before. “My apologies.”
“You just gonna stare at it all day, or what?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. If he’s going to do something, you want him to do it. You suppose there’s no shame in hiding that fact anymore, especially since he’s basically consented to you whipping your bulge out in front of him so he can ‘study’ it, and you’re not sure what else ‘studying’ it could entail.
“Right…”
You watch his hand move from its resting place on the floor until his fingers finally touch your bulge, and you bite your lip. His fingers are warm. You’ve heard about how lowbloods run warmer than highbloods do, but you’re not really sure if Kankri falls under the ‘lowblood’ category since he’s a mutant. His hand curls around the tip of your bulge and tightens on the upward stroke and wow, he’s good. He seems hesitant to add his other hand into the mix, though, so you let out a shaky breath and do your best to reassure him. “It ain’t gonna bite you, Chief.” He has no idea what he’s doing and it’s so obvious, but glub be damned if you don’t want more.
He leans forward and presses a finger to the base of your bulge, and you really weren’t expecting that. You weren’t expecting the way he seems to find a rhythm, and you’ll probably never know whether it’s intentional or not. He presses harder.
“Oh!” The sound is past your lips before you can stop it.
Kankri stops moving entirely. His glance nuggets are wide, cheeks vibrant with color. Your cheeks are likely mirroring his in vibrancy, but you want him to do it again.
He does. In fact, it appears that your little outburst has given him some sort of newfound motivation, and he starts moving his fingers along the folds of your nook. Your toes curl, he’s driving you absolutely wild. There are noises escaping your lips that you’ve never heard yourself make before now, and you’re feeling things you never thought you’d feel. You want to pail him, you think, and now you’re really in dangerous territory. You, Cronus Ampora, want to pail Kankri Vantas, and you want to pail him hard. You might want to pail him harder than you’ve ever wanted to pail anyone else before.
He presses his fingers inside of you, slowly, and suddenly you’re not sure if you want your bulge in him or if you want his bulge in you. Maybe you want both. You groan, low and throaty and horrible, and he pulls his fingers away. You wonder for a moment if you’ve been too responsive, but then you notice that he’s staring at his purple-slick fingers with something akin to hunger in his gaze. Less than half of you hopes to glub that he isn’t about to do what you think he’s about to do.
He is. He sticks his slurry-soaked and glistening fingers into his mouth and fucking sucks. You blink a few times, and decide that this is quickly delving into pailing territory that can no longer be concealed behind the “research” façade. You wonder if Kankri is finally deciding to hell with his vow of celibacy. You’re both dead, after all. “I was wondering what it tasted like,” he mutters, and you want him to tell you. You want him to tell you, in excruciating detail, exactly how your genetic material tastes, and you don’t care if that makes you some kind of deviant.
“You know, Chief….if there were some other things you wanted to study, I could help you out.”
Kankri’s expression softens. “Cronus….” ah, here it comes. “you know I’m celibate.” There it is.
Two can play at this game. “That didn’t feel very celibate to me.” He was just three fingers deep in your nook, for cod’s sake.
Kankri jumps at that. “Don’t….” he’s sputtering, trying to form a legitimate comeback, but there really isn’t one to be had. He’s backed himself into this corner, and you know it. The moment he asked to see your bulge, he’d taken the first step backward. You’ll back off if he insists, of course; you’re not one to take complete advantage of someone like this, but you know you’re making a valid point. Neither of you are in platonic territory anymore. “Don’t be silly! This is merely exploration in the name of knowledge! I am learning quite a lot, you know.”
Ah, like how good you are at jerking bulge, you think, but instead you lean in close. Close enough to get him really flustered. “There’s a lot I could teach you, if you let me.”
You can feel his breath against your neck before he leans backward and looks down at the floor. “Well, I believe that maybe….this wouldn’t be so bad? As long as it’s for my studies, of course.”
Sweet. You’re continuing to respect Kankri’s vow of celibacy and somehow, you might be about to get your bulge wet for the first time in half a sweep. You’re extremely emotionally invested in Kankri, so it’s basically a package deal. He’s getting, well, knowledge, and you’re getting, well, this.
“This is very important for me to have a more rounded out view of the world, you know.”
You kiss him. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, as is everything you ever do, but it’s pretty much ruined by the way that Kankri tenses up against you and gets his hands all up on your chest, pushing you back with more force than you’re used to. When your eyes meet, however, there’s not as much anger there as you had expected.
“Cronus. What do you think you’re doing?”
You can feel yourself sweating. “Helping you with research,” you say, with more stability than you expect from yourself.
He frowns, then. It’s cute. “This isn’t one of your misadventures where I let you into my hive so you can ravage me.”
You snort, and feign disbelief. “It’s not?” And then, of all things to be, you decide to be honest. “But, babe, that’s sort of how I operate.”
“That may be so, Cronus, but that is certainly not how I operate,” Kankri huffs, crossing his arms.
You raise an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean that’s not how you operate?”
He sighs but relaxes in your lap and uncrosses his arms. “It’s like you don’t even know me, Cronus.” Ouch. “I don’t just let people take advantage of me, you know,” he continues, and then, “I have standards.” Double ouch. “I’m not just going to let you walk all over me.” You’re about to interject, but once his words float around in your pan for a few seconds you allow yourself to accept that he’s making a valid point. “So please. If you would sit back and let me attend to my studies, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“I dunno, Kankri. I’m more for bein’ the one doin’ the work here.”
Kankri points a finger directly at you, then. His next sentence is somewhere between a demand and a gentle whisper, and you’re honestly not sure how he manages to pull the tone off without dying of embarrassment or bursting into fits of laughter. “Then perhaps it’s time you learned something a little different, Cronus.”
You’re expecting a lot of things. You’re expecting him to touch your bulge some more, maybe jerk you off, do something that seems less deeply personal than this so-called “research” is supposed to be, but no. Kankri fucking Vantas leans down and starts licking your goddamn bulge. And you love it.
Glub be damned. You’re not even trying to withhold whatever noises your squawk blaster sees fit to make at this point, you’re too lost in the feeling of Kankri’s tongue, subtle as it may be. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to pail someone as much as you want to pail Kankri right now, and that’s saying a lot.
“God—oh—” you sound like some troll straight out of one of those coddamn pailing videos, but you don’t even care, because you’ve only dreamed about something like this, you’ve pailed yourself countless times to the thought of Kankri Vantas’ mouth on your bulge and you’re beyond caring that you’re an uncodly heathen. “Shit—” It occurs to you that Kankri has stopped caring, or has at least stopped expressing any signs of embarrassment regarding the noises he’s making. He pulls away from your bulge with an absolutely obscene slurp, and you have no idea if he knows how much slurry is on his chin.
He leans close to your ear. “Please be sure to tell me how this is making you feel, Cronus.” If you were a bit more desperate, you’d tell him that he’s making you feel like you want his pretty little mouth back on your bulge instead of whispering in your ear, but you haven’t quite reached that point yet. “This is for my research, after all. I appreciate your cooperation, I’m learning so much with your help.” He’s working you up, he’s really getting you there, and for a while you weren’t convinced he had the nerve.
“It feels great, Kan,” you tell him. He kisses your fins on the right side of your neck, chaste, and then pulls away and stares at you. There’s so much happening in his eyes, but you recognize the annoyance for what it is almost immediately.
“That’s Kankri,” he says.
And then he’s kissing you. He’s kissing you of his own accord and he’s licking into your mouth like he can’t get enough of you and you certainly hope he can’t—everyone else seems to have had enough of you and more. He’s pushing his hips against you, too, and there’s a moment where you genuinely believe that you’re going to spill despite the uncomfortable texture of his jeans against your bulge. His hands are on your shoulders and you’re whining into his mouth, drooling, bringing too much saliva into the equation, and Kankri doesn’t seem to care about any of these things. You can feel yourself unwinding.
“Fuck….Kankri,” you pant between kisses, and he pulls away momentarily to let you speak. “You’re makin’ this real hard for me, Chief. Can’t we move things along, a little?”
“I—I suppose we can….” He’s bright red again as he stands up and starts working at his belt so he can remove his pants. What an ameteur, you think, but then you remember that he’s your ameteur, at least for now: that he’s trusting you to not judge him for his inexperience, or his curiosity, or whatever category this encounter falls under.
You don’t know why you’re surprised when he pulls down his pants to reveal his bulge, fully unsheathed, and you don’t know why you’re so surprised by the abundance of slurry dripping down his inner thighs. You aren’t surprised, however, by how much more this makes you want to pail him, and you find yourself reaching for his ass to pull his hips forward without thinking.
He squeaks when you take the tip of his bulge into your mouth. You lick up his length, and he’s sweeter than you’d expected. You want more. You want so much more, and you don’t know if he’ll give it to you, but if all else fails you can always tell him it’s for research. He seems to have immense respect for personal curiosities.
“Ohh.” His eyes are closed tightly but you look up at him anyway. Perhaps he’ll open them. You hope he does. “Ohh, Cronus….” He’s dripping slurry on your face. You don’t care.
Kankri’s thumb is on your cheek, then, and he’s wiping away a bit of his own cherry-red genetic material, smiling sweetly down at you as if you’ve pleased him greatly. Your bloodpusher feels like it’s going to short-circuit on you. “You missed a spot.” You grab his wrist and begin to lick his thumb clean. “Cronus,” Kankri warns. His expression has changed subtly. “Remember what we agreed on?” You nod. “Let me do my research….Please?”
The please is what breaks you. It’s what has you pulling Kankri down into your lap, has you spreading the folds of his nook and pressing your fingers inside of him, stretching him out and preparing him for you. It’s not like he couldn’t take you as he is—he’s certainly wet enough, more than enough, actually—it’s just that the process makes this feel that much more intimate. You want Kankri to see this as more than research. You want him to know how horribly flushed you are for him, how long you’ve wanted this, and how much you want to see him unravel beneath you.
“Cronus, please.” He’s shaking, poor thing. His body is practically screaming for you, and if he weren’t so insistent on hiding behind the term research you’re sure his voice wouldn’t be far behind. You remove your fingers and waste no time sliding into him with as much finesse as you can muster given how desperate you are.
He gives you a full body shudder, and you’re more than grateful for that. You’re doing a good job. You, Cronus Ampora, are fully confident that you’re doing a good job at something other than being a horrible troll for the first time since you can remember. “Cod. You’re so—” he’s so what? He’s so good, he’s so tight and warm and fucking fantastic around you and you still can’t believe this is happening. “Fuck, you feel so fucking….good.”
Kankri groans and wraps his fingers around your horns, holding your head against his chest, and he’s still wearing his goddamn sweater. You’d laugh if he hadn’t just started rocking his hips downward roughly, seemingly desperate for you to hit that spot deep inside of him, and if his thumbnail wasn’t pressing into the base of your right horn. “How….does that feel, Cronus?” You’d tell him if he didn’t look so close to falling apart. Experimentally, with the full intention of driving him that much closer, you thrust upward. He lets go of your horns.
“Cronus!” His entire body shakes as he comes, and you’re convinced his legs would’ve given out beneath him if you weren’t supporting him by his armpits. You realize how lucky you are as he leans forward and rests his chin on your shoulder again. His arms find their way around your waist.
“You….” He’s still audibly out of breath, and it’s endearing that he’s already trying to talk to you, like you’re worth it, or something. “You didn’t finish.”
Oh.
“Nah, Chief. This is fine, though. This was for your research, after all.”
“I….wouldn’t….oppose if you would want to continue.”
You can feel your face flush. “You sure about this, Chief?”
Kankri nods. You give him a look, and he nods again, reassuring you. You take this moment to notice that his bulge is still visibly unsheathed. He’s still turned on. He bends over for you, beautifully red and violet and all of the colors made of the two together, and Cod dammit you’re so flushed for him. Purple on red is nothing short of a compositional disaster, but you’ve never found the colors to be more beautiful together.
You waste no time sliding home again, the movement facilitated by the sheer magnitude of slurry he’s covered in. You quickly find your rhythm, fucking into him like you’ll never get the chance again, because you don’t know if you will. This could very well be the last time that Kankri Vantas lets you get within five feet of him, and you’re going to make sure that you remember this for as long as your pan will allow.
The sounds your bulge makes sliding in and out of him are absolutely obscene, and so are the small noises Kankri is making beneath you. Your orgasm sneaks up on you like nothing you’ve ever felt before, electricity washing over you in waves, and you’re not sure what words out of your mouth while you’re lost in the feeling, but you can’t guarantee that Kankri’s name isn’t one of them.
Neither of you had thought to grab a pail, but it’s been one of the last things on either of your minds, especially since you don’t think Kankri had anticipated this. You hadn’t, either. Kankri certainly doesn’t seem to be worried about the state of his floor, and you know this for a fact because he whines and comes again, spills onto the floor moments after you empty into him and doesn’t appear disgusted. You might go so far as to say he appears fascinated, and you wonder if he knows how easily slurry stains surfaces. You decide not to tell him.
You pull out, and red-purple slurry drips onto the floor. You watch it slide down the insides of his thighs, fascinated and completely enamored with the way it looks against his unusually pale ashen skin. You wonder if that’s a part of his mutation, too.
He flops down onto his belly, clearly with no regard for the puddle of slurry on the floor, and sighs. You flop down next to him and put an arm over his shoulders. “You alright there, pal?”
He might be smiling. You aren’t sure. “That….was good,” he murmurs, so quiet that if you were panting a bit more you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. “I….I learned a lot.”
Ah. This again.
“But I think….” He leans closer to you and stares right at you. You recognize the look in his eyes immediately. “We might need to do some more research.”
You kiss him. He kisses you back.