[Given that the sudden and inevitable arousal is mutual, Molly doesn't really feel the need to be conflicted about it anymore, which allows him to relax and let it happen. The scars are always everyone's first go-to, most of them old when Molly was new, and thus a part of the tapestry he's made of his body that he can't fully claim. Luckily, he's lost count of the ones that came with the body, mixed in with nicks and cuts from improper sword juggling and the occasional confused attempt to bleed for his magic in the wrong places. Here on the torso, narrowly missing vital areas below his ribs, there's a jagged series of arrow scars; here on the left wrist, a series of long scars from shoving his hand into the clockwork warden. Those ones were new when he first came to El Nysa, and even those are faded.
It's with this scarred up, tattoo-free hand that he reaches up and clasps Peter by the wrist, running a thumb gently up and down the sensitive areas where the nerves are clumped together, dragging gently along the heel of the palm, and then back again. Just simple touch is all. He appreciates that for all that there's a buzzing in the air and the aching need is agonizing with every touch that doesn't offer relief, there's still room for exploration and feeling each other out. Sex and intimacy are emotional, loving things. Molly can no more fling off his clothes and go straight into meaningless passion than a displacer beast can decide to take up tap dancing. It just doesn't work. It removes all the godsdamned fun of it. Even if it means feeling his stomach doing contortions worthy of Mona and Yuli, he keeps his focus entirely on the intimacy part of it, not the cold, impassive fucking part.]
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It's with this scarred up, tattoo-free hand that he reaches up and clasps Peter by the wrist, running a thumb gently up and down the sensitive areas where the nerves are clumped together, dragging gently along the heel of the palm, and then back again. Just simple touch is all. He appreciates that for all that there's a buzzing in the air and the aching need is agonizing with every touch that doesn't offer relief, there's still room for exploration and feeling each other out. Sex and intimacy are emotional, loving things. Molly can no more fling off his clothes and go straight into meaningless passion than a displacer beast can decide to take up tap dancing. It just doesn't work. It removes all the godsdamned fun of it. Even if it means feeling his stomach doing contortions worthy of Mona and Yuli, he keeps his focus entirely on the intimacy part of it, not the cold, impassive fucking part.]