[On second thought, he appreciates the slowness. When she pops the last button on his shirt, he rolls his shoulders back to open it a little without moving his hands away from her, and that's when all the soreness from yesterday reasserts itself and he huffs a quiet laugh against her lips.
But then there's the fact that he's ticklish, which is making him laugh, too.
no subject
But then there's the fact that he's ticklish, which is making him laugh, too.
And squirm, a little.]
Hey...
[Such a weak, halfhearted protest.]