K turns his face into the warm pocket made by Jesus's shoulder, neck, and jaw and closes his eyes, just listening to him breathing, feeling the syncopated beat of their hearts.

"I'm glad you came," he confides to the safe space created between them, breathing in the specific mix of skin and sweat and earth and liquor and something else that's uniquely Jesus.

His lips brush the tendons of Jesus's neck, first just proximity, then a deliberate, grateful kiss.