"Kevin." Connor hisses, swatting away the hand gradually (well, not so gradually anymore) inching its way up his thigh. "This part is important."
'Important' is not the word Kevin would use. Or at least, even if it is important, that isn't always synonymous with 'interesting'. Connor could do to cut him a little slack, he thinks - he has sat through two-hours-and-something of this movie so far and to be fair, he's enjoyed most of it. He's just a little tired of all the… singing. He's not sure he remembers what talking sounds like anymore.
All he does know is that it's taking Russell Crowe an awfully long time to jump off a bridge.
Strong-willed soul that he is, Kevin tries again, gingerly sliding his arm along his boyfriend's back and wrapping it around his shoulder, his hand resting at the nape of the redhead's neck. Connor prickles a little, but says nothing, eyes firmly fixed on the conflicted Inspector onscreen. If he ignores him, Kevin will surely settle down and behave… right? McKinley supresses a sigh as Kevin's fingers begin to massage his shoulder, gently working the tight muscles. Who is he kidding, this is Kevin Price, of course he isn't going to behave, not if he doesn't feel like it - which the ex-super-Mormon evidently doesn't.
His hand edges inwards, massaging the side of Connor's neck now, and he surreptitiously leans in to give his earlobe a pointed nip, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from his squirming lover.
"Ke-vin," he whispers, intending it as an admonishing caution, but finding himself quite shocked when it comes out… very differently. Feeling his face heat up at his unintentionally wanton tone, Connor shifts in his seat, still refusing to make eye contact, and carefully presses the back of his fisted hand to his mouth, as if in thought, but with a far more practical intention.
Kevin grins, pleased with this reaction and with himself for knowing just what makes Connor tick, and dives in again, leaning in painstakingly slowly to the pale neck before him and snatching the enticing skin between his teeth, worrying it gently. Connor makes a strangled squeaking sound somewhere in his throat and it's all Kevin can do to keep from laughing as he makes short work of McKinley's neck, proudly noting to himself how many hickies this is going to leave.
Suddenly, there's an abrupt rustling in the seat in front and both boys move as if electrocuted, balking away from each other faster than lightning. They can both hear their hearts thrumming in their ears as the elderly woman in front turns to face them and for a moment, the only sound is Javert's wailing and the seconds feel like hours before she finally whispers:
"Neither of you lads happen to have a tissue, do you? I'm afraid I've gone and knocked my drink over."
Fighting the urge to burst into tears of relief, Connor quickly obliges, fumbling in his pocket for a packet with shaking hands and handing one over and with a muttered thanks, they are inconspicuous once more. A fox-like smile slowly spreads across his features as he leans in again, but is halted by a hand on his chest.
"Not on your life, Price," Connor hisses, cheeks aflame. Kevin chuckles and sinks back into his seat in gracious defeat – he supposes after that little heart attack he can wait another hour.