It’s nothing more graceful than the first one, but it’s satisfying anyway, and the butterflies are setting up a colony in Ryan’s stomach. He keeps it short, ducking away again as fast as he reasonably can, and Alex just sits and watches him with those pale, pale eyes—and damn him if he doesn’t look as calm as a dead sea.
“Just…” Ryan shrugs, doesn’t know what to say, and says: “Can’t say I didn’t like the other one. So. Yeah. I’m not mad or anything. Thought I’d better…it was good, other day…”
He doesn’t get any further. Alex’s hand curls around the back of his neck, and they’re kissing again: slow and hesitant and a little unsure, but most of this is instinct, and there’s something weirdly nice about the way Alex tilts his head so they mesh better, so they fit, somehow.