Any concept of Lee's body being odd or ugly or fake is not on his mind. Lee's body makes Michael feel safe and wanted. Plus, Lee is in Lee's body, and Lee is the best.
Michael's jacket drops to the floor, forgotten as they lie down. They do this a lot, alone in Lee's room; Michael focuses on the familiarity of it. He lets Lee guide him as she will, lets himself run a hand down her side. All the way down. Surprised fingers meet skin sooner than anticipated, and oh, god, she might as well just be wearing a long shirt now.
Trying to position himself more comfortably, he slides one of his legs in-between Lee's—his thought process being, you know, one step at a time. Except as a result, one of her legs winds up in-between his, too. It presses and shifts against him as he moves along Lee's neck.
There's that prickling under his skin again, a faint pulse in his core. He makes a short, quiet noise as a couple of his fingers slip beneath the lace trim of her knickers, as he kisses and tastes her collarbone and pulls their bodies closer together. He wants more of her. He wants to move (this time, he thinks). He still feels strange from a minute ago. It all combines in a shiver and a vocal sigh.