Kieren's voice is hushed, little more than air at first, his eyes wide. Sirius would like to imagine he can detect a flush to those pale cheeks though he knows that impossible.

He listens though, sliding his hand higher to the nape of Kieren's neck, enjoying the soft prickle of short hair there, his breath catching faintly at Kieren's words. Swallowing, he nods, and then lifts Kieren's other hand up to his chest, pressing his palm flat against the steady thump-thump-thump beneath his own billowy shirt.

His arousal is indeed making itself more apparent by the second and he steps in just that little bit closer. "Tell me what you feel," he says, words little more than a whisper. "Please."