As soon as Ned tells him to hold up, he stops what he's doing, lets himself get tugged down for that kiss, can't help but tilt his hips forward and moan low in his throat at the feeling of Ned's hand on him. "Y-yeah, I think I can figure it out," he says, in response to Ned's question, his answer breathless and excited and just as eager as Ned seems to be.

Despite his enthusiasm, despite how turned on he is -- evident from the flush on his face and the quickened breathing, from the way he's trembling slightly as every bit of contact he has with Ned, no matter how minor -- it doesn't seem difficult to go slowly, partly because he doesn't want to hurt Ned, partly because he wants to relish every little bit of it, feel every intoxicating moment of pressing into Ned.

And just that simple, slow movement of burying himself deep inside of Ned is enough to make him gasp and let out a jumbled, nonsensical torrent of swearing, his head dipping forward for a moment and his hair falling into his eyes, one hand on Ned's chest to brace himself. It's better than he'd imagined, and for a long moment, he doesn't move at all, but when he finally does, mindful of Ned's instructions, it's slow and gentle.