Auron shuts the door by pressing Tidus back into it, drawn in by the the song he was humming and then the soft press of his mouth, the measure of his homesickness and what lies against it. His arms unwind from around his body slowly enough to give him time to process that he needs to get his feet on the floor before he really does drop him; once freed, Auron places his hands at his hips, thumbs resting against his belt. It's hardly a touch, but it's not without promise. So much for losing his nerve. At this rate, he's most likely to be the one to put a stop to this, but —

He isn't.

It's a better excuse not to speak when he dips down and puts his lips to tanned skin at the juncture between neck and shoulder, exchanging a kiss with another kiss before he bites down in the same place, following the line of muscle until his shirt gets in the way. He picks up his right hand to tug the brightly colored fabric aside, revealing another sliver of shoulder. Even if Tidus can't hear it, he must be able to feel it when he sighs, resigning himself to tugging his suspenders free, to leave them dangling uselessly over his arms.

He brushes the backs of his bare knuckles over a taut stomach. He meant to get further than this. Further than the door, at least.