"Christ," Neil squeaks, laughing, as Caleb manhandles him into his lap, and whatever else he's going to say--well, that gets swallowed up in a quiet little noise as he feels that Caleb's not just a little turned on.

He sits with that for a moment. He lets Caleb sit with it too, to feel the processing. The flighty confusion and worry, the self-reprisal, and finally a bit of that adoring pride that always comes whenever Caleb is turned on by him.

It's quick. Neil rolls his hips testingly, teasingly. He looks over his shoulder, through the fall of his hair and his lashes to look at Caleb.

"We don't have to do anything," he says. "I know this is kind of weird."