[o-oof, that elicits a grunt of surprise, but he isn't complaining. he's resigned to his position of 'eternally topped' by now. he also has no clue what to do with his hands because he would like them not chopped off by grace and fed to wild animals. instead, an internal compromise between his head ('your thumbs are good where they are') and his...other head ('GO FOR THE GOLD') is reached by tracing up her stomach en route to hopes and dreams.]
no subject