He lets this kiss be slow, takes his time with it in a way he hasn't let himself do in years. He's thinking of the things K said--the things he liked about the role he was created to do, that it wasn't anything to do with killing or fighting or the power he had over those he was sent to execute. That what he liked was talking to people, that he liked patrol work because he got to meet people, he got to simply be a presence in the city who could help protect whoever needed his protection.
K is his friend and that is a very good reason for Jesus to not be here kissing him, to not let his fingers trace K's jaw. Getting attached the way this might lead is a bad idea.
But K, who was created to assassinate his own kind, is so gentle and so warm, and he sighs softly into the kiss and deepens it just a little.
This, in turn, is easy for K to do: to not rush, to thoroughly map the way kissing Jesus feels and the increments that Jesus either relaxes or leans closer under his hands. The measure of his breath, and how adjusting the angle just so or leaning just this much closer affects that.
He brushes the backs of his fingers up the line of Jesus's arm, lightly, to the bend in his elbow and then back again, his own still resting across Jesus's knee where his hand is light at his hip.
He shivers at how light the touch is, and his fingers hook under K's shirt. He's not pressing for more yet; he just wants to feel him, wants to see if he can get K to react this way or that to a touch here, the glide of his nails there.
K isn't ticklish, but he's sensitive to a welcome touch all the same; his breath catches so subtly that if they weren't kissing at the time it might have been missed, but he continues without pulling away. He makes a soft, approving sound - it's okay - and slides his own hand up further along the skin of Jesus's side, too, making sure to miss the rib he learned last time makes Jesus break away to keep from laughing.
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K is his friend and that is a very good reason for Jesus to not be here kissing him, to not let his fingers trace K's jaw. Getting attached the way this might lead is a bad idea.
But K, who was created to assassinate his own kind, is so gentle and so warm, and he sighs softly into the kiss and deepens it just a little.
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He brushes the backs of his fingers up the line of Jesus's arm, lightly, to the bend in his elbow and then back again, his own still resting across Jesus's knee where his hand is light at his hip.
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