Daneel's caution and tenderness are helpful; Ned slows down, lets out a shaky breath and doesn't let his eagerness get the best of him. This is, after all, rather a big deal, for him. It's not the sort of thing he had ever thought he would do, would be capable of doing. He wants to enjoy it as fully as possible, to make it last. So he relishes it, the slow shift of Daneel's body against and within his, the warmth and texture of skin, the feel of his mouth, the sound of his voice.

"God, you're really good at this," Ned doesn't exactly have anything to compare it to, but he couldn't care less. He clings to Daneel tightly, hooking a leg around Daneel's back, drawing him in even closer. He knows, logically, that what he feels shifting underneath Daneel's skin isn't exactly muscles, but whatever it is, he likes the feel of it. There's a heat building in the pit of his stomach, gradual but insistent.

Along with the steady build of arousal, his shyness and habitual sense of restraint falls completely by the wayside. He doesn't care that there's more than a hint of desperation in his voice when he begs Daneel to go faster, when he presses his forehead and tightly-closed eyes against the curve of Daneel's neck and starts babbling all sorts of things about how much he loves him. Ned tilts his hips in a way that makes every thrust of Daneel's send a jolt through him, until the crescendo starts to become too much. Acting without thinking too much first, Ned takes one of Daneel's hands and sets it against his cock with a wordless sound of entreaty.