He is patient. And Delta is still finding his feet, in an almost literal sense.

It's not the quick stirring of passion that comes from York, where they clash and mesh and find ways to draw that heat from one another. But that does not make it unpleasurable. His eyelids lower lazily as he lets Delta do as he pleases, while his own hands slide up his back, smooth over the curve of a shoulder blade or the dip of his spine. Just steady, grounding pressure and touch as he finds his way.

And occasionally, when he strikes upon a tender spot, when his fingers pluck or nails catch somewhere sensitive, he earns a softly pleased noise in response.