He ducked the punch. It wasn't hard to do nor did it require much effort but . . . it definitely had to look real. You swiped at his legs and he jumped, evading the attack. And that's when you struck, tackling him to the ground, straddling his hips, forearm pressed against his throat lightly. His hands wandered up from your knees to the backs of your thighs, thumbs stroking you through your leggings that hugged your body. He hummed, eyes on his hands on you before dragging them up your body slowly, so slowly, up to your eyes. “I think I quite like this position,” he said, a low rasp to his voice.