"You heard me." There's a definite shit-eating grin on his face at this point, like he knows what he's saying is so full of it. But he can't help it. Not at all. It's fun.

His lips make their way to the flat plane of her stomach, the muscles of her abdomen, tongue circling the belly button for a moment. Like if he can do this enough, use his lips and tongue and teeth on her skin enough, he can clean her - clean himself - of them. All of them.

"You got my shirt."