"Can't promise I won't squirm a little," he warns playfully. "But I promise it will be the good kind of squirming."

He does try to stay still, he really does, but just as he warns, the slow, exploratory drag of Arthur's hands down his chest makes him writhe in place. His breath comes in stuttering hitches each time a particularly sensitive spot gets grazed, the curly hairs growing thick between his pecks, the sensitive strip on either side of his navel, and lower...

Oh. He's realizing the problem at the same time as Arthur. "Yeah. Should probably stand up, huh?" He does so, moving to square up in front of Arthur. "Better?"