Kieran was somewhere between turned-on and embarrassed during their waltz to his bedroom. There were dirty clothes on the ground that he needed to have laundered, the bed was unmade, there were half-painted canvasses in the corner and paint tubes on every surface; and Jude's hands were on Kieran's shirt-buttons and his skin and Kieran was hard and he pushed one hand through Jude's hair when Jude kneeled in front of him. He kept the passive feeling from being up against the door up until Kieran's hands were tugging down his own trousers and Jude admitted that he hadn't done this before.

Kieran's first reaction was a flash of embarrassment. In the top drawer of his nightstand he had a small and dusty bottle of lubricating oil; what would Jude think of him when he saw that? His second thought was to brush his own embarrassment aside entirely; he stepped out of his trousers and boots and pressed a kiss to Jude's collarbone.

"We'll go slow," Kieran whispered into Jude's skin. He darted his tongue out to lick the hollow between Jude's collarbone and shoulder. They would go slow, because Jude had not done this before, but Kieran had, and more important than Kieran's sheepishness about the mess was Jude enjoying this.

Kieran pressed more slow kisses to Jude's collarbone; once he had reached the base of his neck, he said, "Do you want to fuck me, or do you want me to —?"