They were lying in his bed, all curled up and ready to go to sleep, when she slowly trailed her fingers up his back. He shuddered.
She smiled, knowing she had provoked a reaction, and waited for a moment to make it seem like a one-time thing. Just as his breathing was slowing and evening out into the rhythm of sleep, however, she did it again, tracing his spine with a single fingernail. His eyes flickered open as the shiver passed through his body, and he saw her staring down into his face with a wicked grin.
"Why, you're not ticklish, are you?" she asked, drawing patterns on his back and watching him suck in a breath. Her feather-light fingers ghosted to his sides, teasing softly, her face schooling itself into an innocent expression. They trailed their way up the underside of his arm, and his knees jerked up in an automatic response. She said nothing, merely guiding her fingers down his back again, along the waistband of his boxers and over his ass, which clenched in reaction. She gave it an admiring squeeze before moving onto the highly sensitive backs of his thighs.
Throughout all of this he had been maintaining eye contact with her, but now his eyes fluttered closed. Blindly, he reached out a hand and cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. Sensing what he wanted, she leaned in, turning her head at the last moment to kiss the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then the spot right below his ear. He groaned. She kissed the corner of his mouth again, feeling his tongue swipe out and try to catch her mouth, in vain. And all the while her fingers danced up and down his back.
His hand removed itself from her neck, skated experimentally down her side. She laughed softly and kissed his forehead. He'd have to try a bit harder than - her thoughts were interrupted by a hitch in her breathing as his larger, rougher fingers stroked her through her instantly wet underwear. As long as it had just been her teasing him she'd kept a lid on her own lust, but he had taken that lid off and it was open season. One of her hands tangled in his messy black hair, the other made a small fist against his back, and he let out a low laugh. His fingers came back, more insistent this time, and almost against her will she tightened the hold she had in his hair.
"That's not fair," she gasped.
"Why, you're not ticklish, are you?" he asked with a devilish glint in his eye.