[ He's easily lead, fingers slipping between the knot of her robe to loosen it in soft loops of fabric. It's radiant, the way heat pours between them, melting trepidation, sweetening desires that would otherwise seem too frightening to accept, too good to be true. Whatever instinct he has to shy back quiets and lays back down at the bottom of his soul, domesticated. What wells up in its place is a likewise desire to be touched, to be closer. ]

Of course. [ His blood's loud in his ears, but a glimpse upwards into the pacific blue of her eyes calms him. With a brush of noses, he breathes out a half-chuckle — he realizes he doesn't really know, either. ] We'll figure it out together.

[ Pulling the robe's knot loose, he places a kiss to the corner of her mouth while his palm smooths beneath its hem. He curls his fingers over the slope of her waist, squeezing lightly as he pulls himself closer to her, urging her to slough the material off of her shoulders. ]

I should probably apologize, though. [ The words sit lightly in his throat for the way his voice has gritted over; he ducks to kiss her shoulder, once, twice. ] I've got a lot of places that aren't all that pleasant to touch.

[ He doesn't imagine so, anyway, scarred as he is. ]