The more Aphrodite regarded him with anticipation and expectation, the more Connor bloomed. His hand cupped her thighs to bring her closer as he supplied pressure with his mouth through the sheer fabric. It was all moving so quickly, but he was being gifted every incentive to keep going. He was consuming every ounce of data, from her taste, to the way her toes curled and her chest heaved, to her natural flora. Not only that, but he was keenly observing the way he responded to it in turn--his programming was his instinct, something that felt both familiar and alien to follow. Soon, he was removing the barrier to enhance the contact and enhance the input, and was rewarded with more heat and friction.

"I could keep going." Heated, Connor paused to kiss the inside of one of Aphrodite's thighs. He knew full well her intent, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Or I could finish picking up."