𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

Consent is Sexy II.

West leaned in, planting wet kisses down the line of Killian's jaw. He licked at the spot just below his ear, then dragged his mouth down to his neck and bit down gently, just enough to make Killian tense and exhale sharply through his nose. West's tongue soothed over the mark before he moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

His hands had already found their way under Killian's shirt. West's fingers slowly brushed over his stomach and up along his sides. Killian's velvety soft skin felt hot beneath his touch. And he didn't rush it, he just explored, like he wanted to feel everything, learn what made Killian gasp and squirm.

Killian shifted under him with heavy eyes, lips parting as he watched West like he couldn't believe this was real. One of West's hands slipped higher, dragging the shirt up in the process, and Killian didn't protest. He just lifted his arms to help, letting the shirt slide over his head and onto the floor.

Then West pressed into him, rolling his hips slowly and deliberately. The movement made Killian's breath hitch and he threw his head back against the pillow.
The friction sparked something low in his gut, and god... it'd been a while since anything had felt this good.

Killian let his hands roam, fingers digging into West's shoulders, then down his back, clutching at him as their bodies moved in sync. West's mouth found his again and Killian kissed back-- desperately, with everything he had.

There was something maddening about the way West moved... like he knew exactly how to push Killian right to the edge without sending him over. Every grind, every subtle shift of his hips made Killian's toes curl and his thighs tense. He gasped against West's mouth, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

"Fuck." He whispered, voice barely audible. "You're killing me."

West only smirked against his skin, then his hand slid lower, unbuttoning Killian's jeans with a practiced ease that masked how nervous he actually felt. He glanced up, meeting Killian's eyes, silently checking in with him. Killian nodded with a shaky breath, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

West exhaled slowly, trying to keep his own heart from leaping out of his chest. He moved carefully, his hand slipping past the denim, then past his boxers, touching him with gentle intent.
The soft sounds Killian was making made West's pulse stutter.

He kissed Killian's chest, letting his mouth explore, his tongue tasting salty skin before moving lower. He heard Killian whisper his name like it was the only word he knew, and something inside him tightened.

West looked up once more. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

Killian's voice was low when it came, "Don't stop."

So West kept going, every single movement he made was a mix of nerves and growing hunger. He wanted to make Killian feel good. He wanted to memorize every sound, every single way Killian's body reacted to his touch.

And when West's mouth replaced his hand, Killian dug his fingers into his hair, like he was holding on for dear life.

West had no idea if he was doing it right. He'd watched videos, sure, had an idea of what to do. But this wasn't some abstract concept now. This was Killian. This was him, trembling beneath his hands, breath catching in his throat like West had stolen it.

He moved slowly at first. Carefully. He didn't want to accidentally bite his boyfriend's dick off. After a couple of minutes, his jaw started aching a little, and his lips felt awkward, but the low, stuttering sounds Killian was making… those gave him the confidence to keep going.

It was intimate in a way he hadn't expected. Not just the physical closeness, but the vulnerability. Killian's fingers tightening in his hair, his quiet moans, the way he was letting West take care of him. It was the definition of trust.