Fred shivered as Wesley grazed the back of her neck, her body quickly losing grasp of things like logic and reason. She was hypersensitive to his touch, and currently tangled in a study course clearly designed to remind her just how long it'd been. She refused to fully consider the math.

Warm fingers at the nape at her neck and her knees refused to work as they were meant to, buckling slightly.

They were nothing less than traitors, really.

A breath, then composure gained through thorough and complete recommitment to the task at hand. Her hands traced over his waist in a way not all that unlike when she'd asked him to tuck her in outside Caritas. Fingers slipped below the fabric, nails grazing against skin in unapologetic exploration before Fred finally reached to tug the boxers free altogether.