That shy flicker of a tongue against his is expected but still sweet - not that Rupert usually cares for shy sweetness - and Rupert greets it lewdly with his own. A little of his reservedness begins to slip away with every press of his lips, every pleased exhale; his kisses are increasingly greedy and confident, expert and wicked, knowing that perhaps he might rub (hah) a little of his fearlessness off on Jonas with every kiss.

And that hand - that hand is promising, just like that exploratory touch to his hip had been. Delighted, Rupert takes it, briefly covering the back of Jonas's hand with his own, squeezing it roughly, before taking it and moving it beneath his tee and up against his pec, pressing it flat against his left nipple. Because if you're going to feel someone up, then better it be skin on skin. That's the first lesson, right there.