"Because I have a beard?"
"Aye."
"Is it nice?"
"A little tickly."
"I thought you weren't ticklish."
"It turns out my face is." He rubs his chin. "Maybe the skin is more sensitive there." His pupils shrink.
"What are you thinking about?"
His cheeks go bright red, and he shakes his head.
"Tell me."
"Feathers," he whispers.
My eyebrows shoot up. "Feathers?"
"What they would feel like brushing over my cheek. My jaw. My chest. My…" His voice gets quieter and quieter with each statement.
“Are you saying you want to play with me again?"
"Play?"
"Yes. It's one way of describing a scene. A kink scene, I mean."
"Oh." He stares past me and is quiet for some time. "Yes. I suppose that is what I'm saying. I'm curious." He focuses on me again, tilts his head, and traces circles on the back of my hand. "There’s something else I'm curious about too.”
"What's that?"
"What it would be like to kiss you with tongues.” His face goes even redder, the colour creeping up into his hairline. He shakes his head. "I told you I was like a fumbling teenager all over again."
"Then we’ll be fumbling teenagers together. I haven't kissed my best friend with tongues before."
"No, but you have kissed other men like that, haven’t you?”
"Yes."
"And you've had sex?"
"Yes."
"And you’ve done other stuff."
"Yes." I'm not entirely sure what he’s referring to, but I can guess.
"Have you…?" His face is going redder and redder by the second. It's almost the same colour as his hair now. "Do you…? Do you like to…? Or do you…?" He lets out a breath and shakes his head.
"You don't have to ask me these questions right now," I say. "Ask me them when you feel more comfortable."
"When? Don't you mean if?"
I stroke my thumb over his stubble. "No. I mean when."
He snorts. "I think you have more confidence in me than I do."
