Gentle is fine. It doesn’t take much to affect Michael physically. If Lee did only what she’s doing now for long enough, he’d probably manage to come somehow. And that’s another thing he’s not sure about, because other people talk about sex casually, they tell stories about it that sound like they could be describing a sports game or checkers or something, and he can’t comprehend being touched and not having the sensation take up all the room in his head where the words to outline a feeling would normally go. It’s possible that he’s having way better sex than everyone else. It’s also possible that there’s something (else/still) wrong with him.
Lee, at least, has told him before that it’s okay he’s so sensitive, so he’ll keep chalking it up to Possibility #1.
“I know you don’t. But I just. Okay. Fine. I will.” It’s simple to ease himself into the idea of overriding her hostile sleepiness with groping when he is, himself, being groped. Her hand and mouth are migrating toward a common point, she’s teasing at his pants; momentarily, he imagines them like this on a couch in a new office, his private office, his name on the door, late at night, no one around—