Her repetitions—reaffirmations—banished his doubts so well, more quickly than could usually be hoped, it both relaxed and enflamed him all the more. He kissed her there more and more deeply, then parted his lips around her softest flesh and gave her everything he had.

This went beyond technique. He knew how to do things on technical, clinical levels that most people never had to think about, let alone achieve, and he'd had ingrained since before his first experience with an actual (nonprofessional) partner. When was the last time he'd wanted them…? When was the last time his knowledge had served actual desire—meant only a lack of impediment in sharing something, rather than being a coldhearted means to an ulterior end…?

He wanted her to feel every good thing the universe had to offer. He was, singularly, grateful he knew something about how to contribute to that. Especially in that it freed him from uncertainty and instead could just focus on her. The feel of her, the taste of her, her movements, the sounds she made, the electricity—maybe Force…??—he felt in every nerve and thought he felt flowing between them…

And as he continued, unrelenting, apparently tireless, lavishing her there, he reached out one hand until his fingers found hers.