He rocked his hips back against Nicky's thighs and hand at his back, finding the warmth comforting and soothing; it didn't stop the kisses, strung together one after the other. They were tinted a little more desperate than the patient ones from before, with Ganymede's pulse beginning to kick in his chest.

He murmured something in Turkish, nigh inaudible the way his mouth was still pressed to Nicky's, but his body could talk for him, slotting comfortably against the man's chest until there was no room between them, Ganymede's hands molded around Nicky's ribs as if to keep them from separating even as shivers crawled up his spine.