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Experience

He felt a little bad, really, letting Leon angst about making such a gigantic mistake. But Leon angsted so beautifully that Sora rather hated to disturb him. Leon's hair was in his face, veiling it, as he sat in that ratty large chair that he'd been fighting with Aerith about earlier in the day. Sora was glad that Aerith had given up and left it; he wasn't sure whether Leon fit it or if it fit Leon.

Leon probably didn't even know that Sora was watching, cheeks dry now. They hadn't been regretful tears, nor tears of pain. They were merely surprise and joy. Being touched so intimately was a beautiful act, something to be celebrated. That's what he'd been taught, back on the island.

He had to get up, had to tell Leon that Leon hadn't even been the first one to touch his body like that. Leon hadn't been the first one to taste his semen or the first one to reach inside for one tiny spot of fireworks.

On the island, it was normal. It was play - just like running around with his wooden sword playing warrior, it was acceptable to see just what felt good.

Leon's world must not have been like that. He must not have been raised to learn what worked so that he would know later when it really mattered.

No mistakes had been made. Leon would understand, really. He would stop beautifully angsting and again offer a breathless and brief smile.

Yes, as Sora slowly climbed off the couch and crossed the room, Leon pushed his hair back from where it veiled his face. They'd both fit in that chair, even if it didn't fit them both. And Sora would tell of experience, not mistakes.