[The drag of Kavinsky's nails make him shiver and Proko sighs, soft and sweet, as John fumbles with his jeans. He can feel the hesitation after that, knows exactly what's startled the other boy into stopping. If he were more clearheaded, he might have snapped something. Instead, he leaves it to Kavinsky. For better or worst, he trusts him.
Proko takes a deeper breath, vaguely aware that he looks more flat-chested with the way he's stretched out. Not that his chest has ever been anything to write home about, but since arriving here he's... lost his binder somewhere. He's pretty sure he remembers the words you don't need it whispered in his ear at some point in Kav's voice.]
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Proko takes a deeper breath, vaguely aware that he looks more flat-chested with the way he's stretched out. Not that his chest has ever been anything to write home about, but since arriving here he's... lost his binder somewhere. He's pretty sure he remembers the words you don't need it whispered in his ear at some point in Kav's voice.]
Where do you think?