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[ The massage has done its work; Noire's a great deal more relaxed now, and it shows in the give of her body when she leans into him with a quietly approving noise. ]

[ Okay, yes. Good. Phase 1 is complete. NOW FOR PHASE 2. You can do it, Morgan. You can!! He has no trouble keeping her lips busy, kisses drawn and deceptively patient alongside his quickening heartbeat. Luckily, he's had plenty of practice on that front. And then finally, he reaches a blind hand up to carefully undo her collar... which might take a second because how does it even work. ]

[ The world outside of Fire Emblem designers may never know-- and either he's very good at distracting her (which is true) or Noire has decided to just follow his pace (which is also true), but she's making no move to stop him, or to pull away. There's only brief pauses for air, before she's sinking into another kiss.

... But if he can't conquer her shirt, he can ask. ]

[ No... How can he conquer the battlefield if he can't even conquer her shirt!! In a rare fit of stubbornness, he plays at her collar until it gives, probably because it feels sorry for him. But a victory is a victory, and he huffs between kisses before finally parting her collar and running his hand over the newly liberated skin. ]

[ ... This is almost too cute, except this is untouched territory (until now), and there's a very faint gasp that's immediately swallowed. It's fine. It's new, but it's fine. ]

[ Noises like that are never very good for his heartrate... It only emboldens his fingers to glide over and nudge that pesky collar out of the way (and then some) so that he can begin to trail a few slow, attentive kisses down her increasingly bare shoulder. It isn't like he's never touched her skin before -- there's plenty of arm, back, and overboob exposure in this crazy outfit of hers -- but for some reason this new little patch of shoulder is much more fascinating than it ought to be. ]

[ BUT IT'S A SHOULDER.

And that's what Noire keeps trying to remind herself, as she does her best to sit still, but his lips are warm and the trail he leaves tingles hotter.

So she's stuck clenching and unclenching her fingers against her thighs, like a cat searching for a comfy spot. ]

[ He glances at her hands, feeling the slight movement in her arms, and takes a moment to gently nuzzle his head against hers. ]

Still okay?

[ ... Her sweet, silly, stupidly attractive boyfriend. ]

Mm. [ She can still smile, which she does, as reassuringly as she can muster. ] I'm fine now.

Good.

[ He'll stay there, murmuring into her ear while his other hand finally slips up into her shirt to graze her stomach. His face is blazing; she might not guess it from his relatively even tone of voice, but he'd be surprised if she couldn't feel his heart pounding away at her back. ]

Would it help if I talked to you a little?

Yes. [ This she blurts out immediately - with a slightly squirmy motion, because even now, this tickles. If only she knew what that oddly rhythmic pounding at her back was. ] ... Please.

[ He chuckles and leans a little more into her to envelop her squirming, resting his chin on her shoulder. Still, his hand gains a bit of confidence, sweeping a slow circle over her stomach, savoring the bare stretch of skin. A trace of distraction seeps into his voice. ]

Do you ever wonder how we know how to do... all this?

[ ... This is doing nothing for her calm breathing, JUST SO YOU KNOW. It both tickles and doesn't, and she'd normally protest, but she can't bring herself to speak up against it now. ]

... Instinct? You really do-- [ her voice tightens, and then she's turning her head a little more towards him. The heat in her face can probably be felt by now. ] ... s-seem to know what you're doing.

Well... you have given me plenty of time and opportunity to figure some things out.

[ He tilts his head to look at her, just as hot, smile a little bashful as his touch roams ever higher, beginning to drag her shirt up with it. ]

And I won't pretend I haven't thought about it. A lot.

A lot? [ okay, Noire, breathe. It's hard to meet his eyes when he admits things like that, and when his hand keeps traveling upward, but she does her best to keep her gaze on his face.

But boy, that's still oddly unexpected. ]

A lot. Not as much as every day, but a little more than sometimes and a tad under usually.

[ Why does she look so surprised. He always thought the attraction was fairly obvious. Was it just him... Did he just come out as a HUGE PERVERT, OH GODS. For once, he's the first one to look away, choosing instead to focus on the opposite bed. ]

But, um, if that sounds a little weird, then you can forget I ever said anything.

[ Yes. Just forget. That'd be great. ]

... No, I was just surprised. [ In a smaller voice. ] I-I think about you a lot, too, but it's always strange to hear it's mutual, somehow.

Oh. [ He brightens. Not a pervert!! Or if he is, then at least they both are, which works out too. ] Well, good! I hope I meet your expectations.

[ His task snaps back into focus when hand brushes up against its first boob -- truly a momentous occasion. If he could blush harder without turning into a giant red crayon, he would do so. He looks back at her, watching her reaction as his fingers adventure upward at a shy speed, cradling experimentally. "Only a little sensitive," she said... ]

[ He'll learn very quickly that Noire said that out of self-preservation, because she happens to be well-versed in what Morgan does when he discovers a weakness of hers.

That is, he exploits it, which is why she bites her lip to rein in any incriminating noises. But she's fever-hot now, and the noise she's not releasing is still somewhat audible in her throat, something like a stifled, heated whimper. ]

[ Noire. Noire, please. It's impossible to miss any noises coming from her when he's right at her neck. He really isn't sure if this is a normal reaction when girls get their breasts touched, or if handling breasts the wrong way can hurt (since apparently, punches are definitely undesirable??). So he continues as tenderly as he can, noting the tip under his thumb with absent curiosity. This is... definitely not what his own chest feels like. But it's nice in its own way. Very soft and pleasant to attend to.

...

And she is darn right about his fondness for exploitation. He tilts his head against hers with a smile. ]

This is your "a little sensitive"?

N-no one-- [ she breaks off with a very small gasp, dropping her head back a bit. If he's paying very close attention, the tip's definitely a highly sensitive spot. ] No one touches them like this!

[ ... This is too powerful a weapon for one man to wield. Fascinated, his breath dies in his throat. But now he's doubly curious, and before long his other hand slips up to mirror the other, exploring and smoothing those sensitive spots with careful attention as he gauges her reactions. It's a study in Noire for no real purpose but to see how far it can go. ]

Mm. Their loss. I think I could used to this.

[ Of course he could. Noire knows better than to encourage him, but honestly, with both of his hands there, it's all she can do not to squirm.

... Which she fails at, and sooner rather than later, all of this overwhelming attention will earn him a somewhat ragged moan. ]

[ ... YES, THIS IS WAY TOO MUCH POWER. That most distracting noise coming from her (not to mention all the squirming) effectively spots out all brain function and leaves a hot confused haze in its wake. He didn't even know she could make sounds like that... What has he done??

... Doesn't mean he particularly cares to stop, though. If anything, he'll add to her troubles by nosing her woefully exposed neck and leaving a few suckling kisses behind. And almost absently, he begins to push her meddlesome shirt up and out of the way. ]

[ She should have known this would happen. And maybe she'd had a faint inkling of suspicion when she'd agreed to let him continue. But Noire's rational thoughts and misgivings are both at the very, very back of her mind and the size of marble fragments compared to what she's unintentionally focused on now.

Everything's hot. His hands are hot, his kisses burn on her skin, and she feels feverish in a way that would feel alarming, if she wasn't oddly welcoming to the warmth. The air that greets newly exposed skin is still a relief, and she shifts again, his name escaping in a breathless, yearning rush. ]

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