Playing Coy

I've Got a Question

Mark stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was a Friday, and he had the day off. He wore boxers and a robe, with a pair of fuzzy slippers to protect his feet from the shock of the cold tiles.

He'd decided to sleep in, and it seemed Grace had already left for school. He enjoyed the quiet peace, listening to the gurgling bubble of the coffeemaker. He felt a chin rest on his shoulder from behind, arms wrapping around him in a hug.

He hummed and leaned into the touch. "Morning, honey."

"Good morning," she answered, peppering kisses down his neck. He tilted his head to the side, allowing her more access even as every nerve was screaming at him to make her stop. A warm, lazy smile stretched across his face.

"Coffee?"

"Sure, I'll take a refill," she chuckled, setting her mug down on the counter. She pulled him closer, rocking back and forth as she nuzzled his shoulder. Her hands wandered and slipped inside his robe, rubbing at his chest and sides.

He instinctively doubled over against the counter, arms twitching to block her own.

"What's the matter sweetie?" she asked innocently, muffled by the fluff of his robe. "Are you ticklish or something?"

Mark froze, going completely stiff in her arms. "Why must you ask questions you already know the answer to?" he asked in a playful whine, grabbing a hand and lacing their fingers together.

"Who, me?" she cooed, circling his bellybutton with a single finger. He snorted and caught her wrist, but notably didn't push her away.

"Yehes you," he rolled his eyes, even the though she couldn't see it. Honestly, that was probably for the better.

She scoffed and skittered her nails over his bare tummy. He yelped and jerked back, leaning into her trap of a hug.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she teased, aiming for nonchalance but ending up with more of a sly sweetness. As she spoke, she traced random shapes onto his skin, closing in on his navel. "I had no idea you were so ticklish!" she played dumb, but he knew better.

"Liahahar!" he giggled, leaning against the counter for support. She gasped and slipped a finger inside his bellybutton, resulting in a loud squeal.

"Well that's just rude!" she teased, slipping her other hand back inside his robe to scratch at his ribs. His arms slammed against his sides and he snorted.

"Nohoho, I'm sohohorry!" he pleaded, nose scrunching adorably.

"Are you sure you're sorry?" she asked, skittering her nails up and down at a rapid pace.

"Yehehes!"

"Are you sure you're sure?" she taunted, walking her fingers up each rib like stairs.

"Yehehehes!" he whined, twisting back and forth in her gentle hold. He had every opportunity to escape if he wanted to.

He just didn't want to.