[Years. Henry kisses the side of his neck instead of replying, a slow nuzzle along the length of it, reaffirming his presence by degrees.
And he doesn't push for more of an explanation, pulling Ryan instead, back towards the couch. His hands slip underneath his shirt in the process, pulling at it until he can slide his arms underneath, up against skin. Later he'd be curious about what had happened to him; for now, it was enough to have Ryan there, where he could touch him and be touched.]
no subject
And he doesn't push for more of an explanation, pulling Ryan instead, back towards the couch. His hands slip underneath his shirt in the process, pulling at it until he can slide his arms underneath, up against skin. Later he'd be curious about what had happened to him; for now, it was enough to have Ryan there, where he could touch him and be touched.]