Kavinsky could tell that they had shifted, somewhere, but he didn't know if it was him or Jack or both of them. He pushed his fingers through Jack's hair, gentle, edged with adoration that he was trying hard to not feel. Try hard to keep battened down. This was just fucking.

The kisses weren't helping. Kavinsky had just fucked plenty of people. They didn't kiss him like that, tender and lingering. He squeezed his eyes shut and arched his back, pressing his hips up.