He went easily (he always had) and let her do what she wanted with his clothes. Whenever Selina reached for him, he always leaned into it - even when they were in black, fighting in the streets. Even when she left scars, he still...
How many more scars was she going to leave him with? He didn't know the answer to that, but he already knew that he'd always lean into them. Until she stopped. Until she left. The darkness of the thought clouded his eyes briefly as her hands fell on him. He knew she'd leave. He'd always known.
But that wouldn't stop him from keeping her as long as he could. He caught one of those hands and rubbed his thumb across her delicate knuckles, before releasing her again to let her do what she wanted. She had to know that he was hers. He couldn't imagine that she didn't know.
"I thought we'd start on the sauce first," he said. "And while it's simmering, make a salad."