Noyarcano
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“Thighs, huh,” he hummed, watching his hands and how you seemed to unconsciously squirm against his grasp. “I think I get it.” He ducked his head closer to your ear, his voice quiet but sly- the tone he knows to only use to drive you insane. “If I were to put something between those thighs and see you tighten and squeeze around it until it breaks, I think I’d go insane too,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against your neck.
In which you learn that your boyfriend had cracked a watermelon between his thighs. And you are totally normal about it.
AKA- You jump his bones (and he likes it).