God, he just, she can do whatever she wants to him. Her fingers are like trails of fiery cold across his skin and they linger, and when she finds that pulse point, he moans a little bit, from the back of his throat. And then her hand starts to moving, slowly, so fractionally slowly - to him, anyway - and he didn't think it was possible to get any harder but damn there he does, filling out a little more. He pauses, taking it all in, but then puts a hand on her neck and draws her in close for a kiss - he needs a little more of that sear, the cold on hot on cold. He's not paying that much attention to his pants, but they have come down a little more as he slid up the bed a little, situating a little more comfortably on the pillows. ]