Visscher ran his hands down her thighs as he pulled off her skirt, relishing the smoothness, the warmth. His fingers tickled across the back of her knees, down the curve of her calf. In brief moments like that his nervousness ebbed, and he was lost in the smooth firmness of her skin, her gentle curves.

But then he remembered where he was, who he was with, and his exhale was as shaky and nervous as his words had been bumbling earlier.

He crawled back up the length of her, one hand lingering on her hip and the other propping himself over her so that he could lean in and give her another scratchy kiss. It helped, her not being able to see him. Even if she wasn't looking at his appearance, even if she didn't respond to human standards of beauty, he still knew what he looked like. The kiss felt more comfortable knowing that he was all texture and slowly learned skill. He couldn't yet tell what she wanted out of it; or if he was supposed to. Mae seemed to be enjoying what he was doing, and his mouth remained gentle and appreciative against hers. At first deep, and then it dwindled to softer, slow, decadent things.

Visscher's fingers started to stray from her hip then, rubbing to her inner thigh.