It takes him a moment to remember the intricacies of modern bras. Still groping her through her clothes, his fingers meander over the centre back as if he might find a clip, but there's nothing, and he's guessing it's not one of those fancy ones with the front clasp. If it's not coming off, fine. As she captures his mouth again, he fishes the hem of her shirt out of her tightened belt so he can feel the warmth of her skin up her back. Normally he might be going through the paces, dishing out attention out of habit, but here it feels exploratory, new. It's always different with a girlfriend; it's incomparable with someone with this kind of history. These kinds of bonds.