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Trent runs open hands up Ted’s sides, trailing close to his stomach, savoring the warmth and softness under his touch.
His attention is enraptured, heated, so clearly and obviously stunned with desire, breathless with it—looking at Ted like he wants to devour him, touching him like he’s the hottest thing Trent’s ever seen and he still can’t believe he gets to touch him at all—
It's all unspeakably, indescribably flattering; it makes Ted feel all warm and fuzzy and fluttery inside, a swoop low in his belly like he’s on a rollercoaster plunging downwards.
Trent’s hands are gentle and almost hungry, eager as the rest of him, and Trent clings to him and kisses him and touches him like he’s in bed with royalty.
It makes Ted feel some kinda way, to have Trent so openly and unapologetically attracted to him. Kissing his chest without minding the hair, pressing close and all—keen and eager, excited.
It’s not that Ted thinks he’s ugly, he’s simply—fine. Average. Soft belly, a bit flabby, quite a bit of hair, and just generally… in shape enough, he supposes, he keeps healthy, but he’s nothing special.
Or at least, he hadn’t thought so—and nor had anyone else ever really seemed to—but Trent didn’t seem to agree.
And Ted knows he’s a bit of a hypocrite, because it’s the same with Trent: Trent has confided, quietly, that he knows he’s not particularly attractive, which had been insane to Ted, who had eyes and could see that Trent was utterly gorgeous.
Ted, logically, can see the parallels: they’re both middle-aged single fathers, who are hardly movie stars or models or bodybuilders, who have felt average at best their whole lives.
But with Trent, and his style, his pretty eyes and handsome features, his elegant hands and hips, his cool hair and very, very kissable chest and stomach (was that a weird thing to think?) it just seemed so clear.
And Trent—that Trent, handsome and sexy Trent—was so insanely turned on by Ted that he’d get like this, all. hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, dazed kisses and worshipping palms. Throwing himself into Ted’s lap, rapturous and eager.
Trent kisses him deep, making little noises into his mouth as Ted takes his chance to bodily pull him closer, hauling him in by the waist. Trent’s still touching him, moaning as he does, because he likes what he sees, likes what he feels.
It’s nice, to want and be wanted. To feel desirable again.
He squeezes Trent a little tighter just to feel how he melts under the brief pressure, kisses Trent harder, and Trent presses up and into the kiss, hips squirming on Ted’s thighs, and Ted, for a moment, gives a content little sigh into Trent’s mouth.
Trent smiles, almost breaking the kiss, but they manage.
Ted’s so, so lucky.