Sadly, Eirene has no such excuse, aside from her assumption that he would protest if he did not wish to go further. Which is, sadly, a side effect of her own addled mentality. Perhaps she'll sense when he gets truly uncomfortable.

Her lips drift away from his, again, tracing the outline of his jaw towards the softer skin of Clark's neck, about the same time her fingers reach his chest, underneath the shirt, and begin tracing the expanse of warm flesh.