He can't deny the appeal of the ascent, going where pointed, something light to it all that has him feeling younger than his years and anticipatory. Bedchambers are often so revealing. Hers comes as no surprise somehow, the contrasts of darks and lights, the properly made bed.

She has no trouble whatsoever coaxing him down in the kiss and further. He uses both arms beneath hers to push her further up the mattress and stretch her onto it lengthwise instead of sideways. Coming up onto a knee and shoving with his remaining foot on the ground, he makes his way up there, too, weight heavy upon her in a pin of dress skirt, but propped on a hand and an elbow to keep from crushing her down entirely.

The kiss doesn't go unbroken through the entire affair. Always he comes back to it, and then putting more weight on his elbow, he frees his hand to cup her cheek and trail lower down her throat. It feels debauched to be making out almost fully clothed on a bed in the middle of the day, more so than if they had removed everything first.

He slips his hand lower over her bodice and traces curves through fabric. Buttons feel like smooth, small pebbles against his fingertips. He can't resist the urge to undo just a few and dip his hand into the gap to find the next layer, skin warmed and crisp.