The bony rigging through his hand is keen to dial in under her guidance, half a grin tucked aside the inevitability. The crux of his contribution then becomes to keep to her notes while pushing up in steady pursuit of caught breaths and hitches of fine muscle, persistent, attentive.

It all comes very naturally, instinctive shifts to accommodate hers to keep the pressure on, lower, slower burning drive he doesn’t have to focus to maintain.

Her finding him through his shorts helps.

There are no notes from him after tugged laces, save for an arch at his brow for her gusto, and an indistinct murmur of approval after the first beat of contact, when her grasp hits right. He’s already prickling with sweat for his effort in the humidity and running hot besides, his breath sharpening into a steamier push, his eyes shadowed in the low light.