Well if you're going to breathe directly onto Arthur's dick then Arthur's going to get distracted again, realising just how close Crichton's face is to that part of him and experiencing another wave of duelling 'oh god???' and 'oh god yes'. His cock twitches, up and down, and he forgets to lift his feet to help get his trousers off.

"Er- so- I, er, so I have heard," he says. Usually he'd scoff if anybody else tried it, since it's a clear display of both delusion and bad taste, but somehow whenever Crichton calls him cute it makes him feel buoyant. And that on top of everything else... he is, he realises abruptly, happy. Happy to be here, happy to be doing this. Well blow him down.

But at the same time, lying nude and prone on his back like this makes him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he's not a fan of. And so, at the same moment that Crichton is pulling off his boxers, he's pushing himself back up onto his elbows, lifting his feet to let the underwear past and putting them back down flat on the bed, and reminding himself that the door is locked. It's fine. He tries to force his muscles to relax, which isn't really how that works.

"That, that I can do." He wants this to happen and he is not going to fuck it up for both of them by getting nervous, god damn it. Arthur moves his feet further apart, the spreading of his legs almost shy, urging Crichton to move in on him. He adds: "Please."