The way that Caleb blushes makes Neil doubt it will be so fast, but not that it will happen at all. He nuzzles into Caleb's hair, breathes in the musky sex-and-sweat smell of him, sighs longingly. Adoringly.

"There's no rush," Neil says, soft and quiet. What a silly thing to say when they're twined together, sweat cooling on their body, a lovely ache between his thighs. "Things'll happen as they happen."