Ender sighed softly, tiny sparks jumping through his nervous system whenever Ben's fingers brushed over the right places. He stretched his legs out beneath him, eventually finding the edge of the bed.

He didn't speed up his hand. Especially not after he realized just what drummer Ben was moving to. "I'm keeping this leg."

"I am currently very close to your femoral artery," Ender pointed out.

"So is what you just said," Ender said, propping himself up a little. His movements had stilled, though his hand hadn't moved away yet. "Terrible, Skywalker."

"Maybe," Ender said, nipping at Ben's dinosaur scar instead.

"Maybe I don't believe you," Ender volunteered, following the curve of the scar then biting down again.

Ender gasped softly. He licked a line along the rest of the scar, and muttered, "Maybe," against Ben's stomach.

Then he began to move his hand again. Slowly.

"Mmm. Maybe." Ender pillowed his head on Ben's chest this time, glancing down at his hand.

Well. Ben's efforts were starting to wake him up again, too.

Could they just pretend that groan was because of the terrible innuendo, and not because of Ben's hand?

Probably as good a cue as any to start moving his hand faster. "You are very, very terrible," Ender muttered against his chest.

It didn't sound like a complaint, really.

Ender hummed against his chest. He still felt too lazy to turn this into a big production, but the closeness was nice.

He shifted a little upwards, sighing softly and then nuzzling Ben's neck.

"Mmm," Ender replied, his own hips snapping forward to match.

He dropped idle kisses into Ben's neck, dropping his free arm across Ben's chest.

His reward was a heavy gasp from Ender, whose toes curled, the fingers of both hands tightening on whatever happened to be in their grip.