His hands gently trailed your hips as he half-lays above you, propped on his elbows with his head buried in your neck, giving sweet kisses to it. Nothing rushed, just there in the moment, even if you both knew what was going to happen. He had nothing but boxers on, leaving his scarred chest and legs as well as slight pudge. You had your shirt off but your shorts halfway on. He gently trails a finger down your chest before running his finger along your top surgery scars.

"This healed really well.." He mutters, mostly to himself. He found your scars pretty- a nice testament to your transitioning journey. He then couldn't help a glance down to your shorts.

"Is it okay if I take these off..?" He asks you. He didn't care how damn painful the tightness of his boxers were, he refused to rush you, especially since having yourself exposed to him in this state would be new.