Ned chuckles at that, though the sound is muffled by the fact that his mouth is occupied in other matters. He likes Ginsberg's eagerness, likes that he's the one who is drawing those noises out of him, wants to hear more of them. Which is why he repeats the movement of his fingers, and again, relentlessly, wants to get him as hot and bothered as possible, because he can. His jaw is starting to ache, so he pulls off, panting hard and pressing a dozen messy kisses to Ginsberg's stomach and hips.

"God, you sound so good," he gasps, and for the first time since they started this, his voice breaks with desire. Ned's fairly certain Ginsberg's ready, and it's a good thing; he's not certain he could wait much longer. He pulls his fingers free and fumbles for the lubricant, slicks himself up with hands that are shaking faintly with anticipation. He positions himself and pauses, warns in a voice that's unraveling at the edges with need, "This might sting a little at first, but it goes away, and I'm gonna go slow for you, okay?"

But it's not quite right, yet, doesn't feel right until Ned reaches forward, hooks a hand behind Ginsberg's neck and draws him up into a deep kiss. Only then does Ned start to push in, cautiously, by small increments.