'This,' Noel thought, with great clarity, 'is not what I had in mind.'
He didn't move.
He sat on Cedric's lap, his hands in his lap, and the warm pressure of Cedric's mouth still working at the side of his neck. He did not know what to do with his face or his hands, or the very specific and increasingly urgent situation developing in his trousers.
He pressed his lips together as he stared at the wall.
Cedric's hands tightened at his waist — both of them, bare, no gloves, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of Noel's shirt — and the pressure of his mouth shifted, harder, deliberate, and Noel's jaw clamped shut against the sound trying to come out of him.
Cedric paused.
He leaned back slightly and looked up at Noel.
Noel looked back at him, lips pressed white, chest moving slightly faster than normal.
Cedric studied his face with the same focused attention he gave everything.
"Why are you holding back?" he said.
Noel blinked.
