Any progress toward calming down Michael had made in the last minute or so goes out the window. Lee catches him as he's drawing a breath, and it stutters the rest of the way in as he curls forward and buries his face in the crook of her neck. The air gets trapped inside him for a time as he works through what's happening, both his hands fisting in the sheets in an attempt to stop himself from grabbing Lee and pressing himself against her as hard as he can. He wants to touch her everywhere at once, with every part of himself. He's jerked himself off plenty in his life, but this is worlds away, and she's barely even done anything yet.
He feels the noise in his throat before he hears himself making it—low, for him, and gravelly. It swings up to something breathier, though, like all of his nerves are vibrating into his lungs and out his mouth, and his hands gravitate back toward Lee's shoulders. That's better, he can hold onto her there.
“Fuck,” he swears on the tail end of the moan, shifting in her grip and panting against her skin. “Oh. Okay.”