She watches his hand move down her at a lazy pace. Just long enough to feel the anticipation work up her limbs as his hand disappears below the low sling of the blankets over her hips.

Her legs twitch, wanting to close them around his hand, and at the same time, fall open. A confused mix of sensations as she strains to arch into his fingers and have him touch more.

Embarrassment follows after, as she gets it, and realises it might have been the night before, but there is no mistaking that she is a warm, slicked mess between her legs for his attention. The touches he'd paid her made her already so aroused, sticky between her thighs even as he only grazes her. Her face burning with the realisation. "It - I - I'm messy, we - I should..."

The anxiety returns, worried and unsure. They should have a bath, something so she wasn't so - so - whatever this state was.