Ah yes, briefs. He can feel them under his fingers now as his hands return to Crichton's hips. Arthur gives them the same treatment as the pyjama pants, but more quickly now that he has his eyes -- for want of a better phrase -- on the prize.

He pauses, again not hesitating but rather holding his breath on the edge of a plunge into the deep end, a deep end that he'd like to swim in but which may or may not be full of monsters, and he's jumping any second now, here he goes--

"Right, I, I, I'm just going to--"

He goes for it. It's abrupt and ungraceful: one moment Arthur's hand is raised and his face is focused, and the next, his hand collides at low speeds with Crichton's dick and his fingers curl around it like he's holding a pull bar.

Arthur inhales quickly, and then kind of bluescreens a little. Holy jesus he's holding onto Crichton's penis.