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Trent lies back in his bed, now barely dressed. He’s just got his dressing robe on, in fact, draped over himself and not covering much at all.
He peers up at Ted, seeming uncharacteristically shy. “Care to join me?”
Ted gives him a little lopsided grin, climbing up on the bed to join him, climbing on top of him.
He leans in and winds an arm around Trent’s waist, slipping under the robe, using his other arm to prop himself up as he does. Trent laughs and goes with it pliantly, leaning up into him almost eagerly.
“You nervous?” Ted asks. Still smiling, but the check-in is real—tender, maybe just a little worried.
“A little,” Trent admits. And then, he quickly—almost defensively or even urgently—adds, “It’s not you.”
He hesitates, and Ted just holds him, lets him gather his thoughts. As Trent thinks for a moment, and Ted’s a solid and reassuring presence, patient and warm.
Trent goes to speak, pauses, and then finally says, softly, “I’ve never done this with someone—someone I’m both attracted to and that I trust.”
Ted kisses him gently, then pulls back just enough to grin teasingly, some hair flopping in his eyes. “You’re attracted to me?”
Trent smiles up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re an objectively handsome man, Ted,” he points out, sounding almost amused.
“Objectively,” Ted muses, bending down to kiss him again, just for a moment. “Don’t think that’s how that word is used, Mr. Crimm. And you’re a writer, you should know better.”
“Well, anyone who disagrees with me is wrong,” Trent says.
“Now there’s the Trent I know,” says Ted, laughing.
Trent keeps up that crinkly little smile, pleased as punch and pretty as a peach, and Ted can’t help but give him one more little kiss, just for good measure.
“Anything I can do, honey?” he says softly, more a murmur into Trent’s lips, and Trent gives a soft, content little sigh.
“Just be you,” he says, tipping his chin up so that their noses brush and their lips almost touch again, looking sideways up into Ted’s eyes.
“Well, wouldya look at that,” says Ted, “I’ve already got that down on my to-do list, checked off and everything.”
“Good,” whispers Trent, all playful and pleased. He leans back and pulls Ted with him, on top of him, slinging arms around his neck as he does to keep them close together.
Ted lets a hand slip down his bare waist, caressing his side with a warm, open palm and spread fingers, and Trent relaxes under his touch.
The kisses are slow, the touches tender. Ted slips off Trent’s robe, and his lips trace a path down Trent’s naked body—kissing and mouthing at his chest and nipples before trailing down his stomach, the v of his hips, messily kissing at his thighs. He whispers praise into Trent’s skin, and Trent breathes out his own praise into the warm air around them.
He's enjoying this, enjoying it so much, but—he wants Ted to feel good, too, doesn’t want this to just be for him, and he says so. And Ted—
With Trent’s thighs firmly spread, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looks down at Ted between them, Trent’s hair a mess and his cheeks warm—Ted says, “Oh, I’m feelin’ very good, don’t you worry. Now let me take care of you, honeybee.” He winks. “It’s your first time, after all.”
Trent blushes, not sure why that comment got to him so easily, slipping right between his ribs to make a home in his heart, warm and wriggly and fluttering, but it was probably something to explore at a later date.
For now, well.
For now, he spreads his thighs a little wider, eager and wanting and inviting, and lets Ted takes care of him.