[there's almost a certain romance to it, after a while. two strangers, exploring each other in the dark, led by a little bit of foolish trust and secure in their mutual recklessness. the poetic framing doesn't make him any more sure of what he's doing--but it's easier to believe, in here, that he won't be punished for trying.
the feeling of wandering hands is almost rhythmic, and he reciprocates by moving against him, starting to find a rhythm of his own. a hand slides under Tek's shirt, purposefully wandering up and down along his chest--his flat, male chest, something that feels refreshing and simple and strangely comforting to him--and it's enough to distract him from kissing entirely. for a moment, his head rests against that wonderful chest as he loses him focus between his hips and his hand.
though that hand quickly slides down between the both of them, running over Tek's front as Robin suddenly decides he'd rather explore something more intimate.]
no subject
the feeling of wandering hands is almost rhythmic, and he reciprocates by moving against him, starting to find a rhythm of his own. a hand slides under Tek's shirt, purposefully wandering up and down along his chest--his flat, male chest, something that feels refreshing and simple and strangely comforting to him--and it's enough to distract him from kissing entirely. for a moment, his head rests against that wonderful chest as he loses him focus between his hips and his hand.
though that hand quickly slides down between the both of them, running over Tek's front as Robin suddenly decides he'd rather explore something more intimate.]