She's content with this too, his hands nudging responses from her body despite the lack of experience, each bud beginning to harden around the third or fourth swipe.

Eirene's tongue is occupied fencing with Clark's, and she suitably distracted enough for the arousal to creep across her so subtly it's not until her arm brushes against his, and the sparks unravel into her bloodstream that she realizes he's gotten to do all the touching for the last little while.

"Clark," she murmurs during the next oxygen break, "I love you, and I need to touch you right now." At least, that's mostly what the whisper sounds like.