"The kids I coached called me Mr. Zims," I tell him, smiling wistfully as I think back on that time. It was a really difficult period of my life, but those kids were a bright spot. Suddenly, I hope more than ever that I get the job. "That all sounds really great, Bits. I think-- I think it would be really good for me."

The way that he's touching me has me relaxing back against the couch and I smile lazily up at him, sliding my hands under the back of his shirt to feel his soft skin, fingertips tracing faint lines up and down his spine. Touching him relaxes me, and I watch his face as I move my hands to the front, sliding them up his stomach and chest, thumbs dragging over his nipples before moving up to his collarbones, bunching his shirt up over my wrists.