It isn't his hands moving further up her thigh. It's Apollo's legs shifting so that the area he's touching is more risque than the last. Really. His fingers slide across her skin and his thumb is a couple of inches shy of her core, but he doesn't traverse that last stretch of skin.

Apollo isn't looking at his face anymore, but he's still looking at hers. He's watching her eyes, her expression, gauging how fast the mood is changing. It didn't take much for either of their switches to be flipped, and her naked on his lap wasn't even the beginning of the end. Coming out of his room to her naked with a horde of guns was a signal his morning was going to be some kind of interesting.

Blaine's stomach muscles flexed under her hand and he kept a straight face even though he wanted to squirm. Considering how often she liked to paw at him, it was some kind of miracle that she hadn't discovered just how ticklish he was. Actually, it wasn't a miracle. It was because he had devious hands that always distracted her before his strength faltered and he laughed or had to wriggle away. Said hands were already on the move, closing that distance in a smooth, swooping motion that had his thumb slide up her folds and to her happy button.

He gave a soft, humming chuckle. "I'd have to work a bit harder if you'd found it."