“I shan’t ask why you know that. Still,” Summer said firmly, “you tickling me is not at all the type of wandering hands or pawing I was talking about, and well you know it.” She pulled at the lacing on the cuirass, breathing hard when it loosened. “I think you tied this more like a corset than armour.”
He winces, rubbing her shoulders, “I’m sorry, my armour doesn’t have laces; it has leather straps.”
Her eyes rolled shut and she went a bit limp under his hands. “Oh, you can do that /forever/, Medraut … ” He was easing aches she hadn’t even noticed, they were so familiar, so connected to Dobria castle and the folk there. “Please don’t stop.”