[ He'd much rather be kissing her than talking about Death, that's for sure. Trevor presses her back and lifts his hips so his hand can finish its journey and slip between her legs.
His touch is almost teasingly light but he doesn't want to overwhelm her. Just slicks his fingertips and strokes over those sensitive bits gently, letting her get used to how it feels when it's his hand. ]
[She isn't overwhelmed just yet, but it's strange to feel someone else's fingers touching her in such a private, intimate place. Not bad, not when those fingers belong to Trevor, but it is different. In a bid to not simply lay there she lets her own fingers explore, hands sliding up over his shoulders as far as she can reach to touch him.
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His touch is almost teasingly light but he doesn't want to overwhelm her. Just slicks his fingertips and strokes over those sensitive bits gently, letting her get used to how it feels when it's his hand. ]
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He's warm. He always has been.]