[He shivers, at the touch - draws a sharp breath in, when she sets the first hand on him. He does his best not to squirm, though he isn't entirely successful.]

[The feel of her fingers, warm through the smooth, thin fabric, make him glad he angled his face in toward the back of the couch when he lay down, because he's sure he's bright red. The burn across his cheeks is unbearable, and the feel of her hands on him is unbearable in an entirely different way.]

[He shifts again, a little, despite himself - bites down on his lower lip, and tries to keep still.]