Felix used to be picky about who touched his hair - which is to say, he didn’t let anyone touch his hair. Since arriving here, he’s learned that people apparently really like touching his hair, for some reason? So he’s had to either get used to it or pause these intimate encounters every time to warn them off. He chose to just get used to it after the first time he was too impatient to bother stopping. (It didn’t hurt that he apparently likes to have his hair pulled. Why, he has no earthly idea.)

So he lets her pull his hair loose and run her fingers through it or whatever she wants to do. He doesn’t have much attention to spare anyway, because her mouth is warm and her lips are soft and she’s making noises already even though he’s barely touched her.

She doesn’t have long to wait before he hardens underneath her. Maybe her pace isn’t much slower than his would have been, after all…but it is less frenzied, at least, and it’s a kind of pleasant torture not unlike what Colette did to him back on the ship…he refuses to be that pathetic again, though. This time, he’ll stay in control of himself.

(Will you, Felix? Will you really?)

The more she wriggles around in his lap like that and kisses him, the more he feels like he needs. And every time those lines all over her body buzz with light and magic, it sets him on fire. He clutches at her, fingers digging into her back and hips already rocking to meet her slow movements, making an impatient noise into her mouth.

It’s too slow. Way too slow. …it’s not until he’s already slid his hands back down to her thighs and his fingers have found the bottom edge of her skirt to dip beneath her clothes that he realizes how much he’s rushing in. With a groan and all his reserves of willpower, he pulls back from the kiss and removes his hands, panting for breath and keeping his eyes shut.

“Sorry. I want to slow down, I just…ugh, I can’t with this damned thing in my head.”