Caleb squeezes his eyes shut and he nods, shuddering slightly. His hips start hitching, almost of their own accord, and it's fucking good. He whimpers into Neil's throat, then manages to compose himself, just a little. Just enough.

"I, I'm good," he grinds out. He bites his lip, then presses into a sloppy kiss. "Sh-should I...?" Move, he wants to ask, should he move? He wants to, fuck, he wants to.