He can’t help it that every new part of her he sees is so damn distracting. He’s spent more time than he’ll ever admit imagining what this moment might look like, in some impossible alternate universe where the two of them being a thing is even possible. And now, somehow, they’ve stumbled into that same universe. It’s a lot to take in.

She’s very good at bringing him back to the present moment though, between her hips and her hands. She could distract him from just about anything with those two things alone.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He smirks as he reaches up, making an executive decision that not knowing what to do with your hands is no excuse for not using them. If he overthinks this, they’ll be sitting here all night. His hand caresses her breast, thumb teasing circles in time to the movement of her hips.

“Had to be some kind of luck or divine intervention that got me right here under you.” His other hand grasps her waist and tugs her closer, fingers slipping in the silky material of her pajamas as his hips grind back up against hers. The friction is a sweet sort of torture. He could stop and get the rest of those clothes off of both of them… but that would mean stopping. Decisions, decisions.