Shuffling backwards on her bed, Benedict shifts happily to give her some more room to work, glad for his cat-like eyes as they allowed him to keep from missing a single moment as she takes the hand not on her breast and slides it purposefully between her thighs.

He can feel her eyes trained on his face, but he cannot help but watch instead the motion of her fingers, the way she strokes idly, the scent of her becoming stronger as she delves between her labia to touch what he has really only ever encountered in a diagram in a book.

Despite the fact that he had just said he wanted to watch her, he finds himself sliding his hand from her belly down across her hip, wanting to touch her himself but also not wanting to knock her hand away, winding up touching her thigh with a cautious sort of indecision.