Any self-doubt or uncertainty that Ned might have been feeling about his ability to do this competently is washed away by Ginsberg's ineloquent yet clear enjoyment. This, to him, is without question the best aspect of sex. More than being touched himself, more than the various chemical and biological processes involved, this is what he enjoys the most. He only started to enjoy sex when he realized that it could be like this: about giving, rather than receiving. About affecting someone else, rather than merely being affected. Once he'd realized that, the other things, the hangups and complexes and reservations, had all gone by the wayside.

In part, it has to do with control: with the fact that he is capable of making someone shudder like that. In part, it's also about who he's doing it with: he might have only known Ginsberg for a few hours, but he already knows that leaving him speechless is a tiny coup. In part, too, it is that same drive to make other people happy, to enjoy the enjoyment that he instills.

Which is why, despite his embarrassment, Ned opens his eyes, has to catch sight of the look on Ginsberg's face. He runs his hand up and down his inner thigh once more, softer this time, barely brushing him with the tips of his fingers. Ned waits deliberately to catch his eyes and starts to bob his head a bit faster.