"How typical," Minerva said, rolling her eyes. "Even when you're injured, all you can think about is your cock." She smirked at him when he leaned up, his fingers playing with her hair.
"That's what you think is it?"
Minerva's hand moved from Atlas' thigh and skittered over the taut expanse of his groin, teasing him.
"And what exactly is it that you want me to do with this hand?"