It was absolutely not his fault at all, that he moaned.
There they were having a lovely evening, well, mostly, him chattering away, with his head on her lap as she scratched at his head - he had forgotten again that she was reading and trying to focus and that his talking was awfully distracting, not to mention the fact that since both her hands were currently in use she couldn’t tell him to shut up.
So instead - she pulled rather harshly at his scalp, scraping her nails against him and grabbing his hair in a fist.
It’s not like they had been dating very long either, he hadn’t quite managed to explain the certain things he very much liked from the right person - not because it was awkward or because once someone reacted very badly or anything. Just, he wasn’t quite ready. For that.
Now a common misconception was that Chell was deaf, which she enjoyed to a certain extent. While watching her sign people mumbled and sometimes said rather rude things that they thought she couldn’t hear. It’s not that she enjoyed the rude things - just the honesty.
(And made sure to tell her deaf coworkers exactly who thought certain things of deaf people).
But that also meant that in that very certain moment he really wished that he hadn’t been so obvious, or that he could just sort of fall into the misconception that most other people were so happy to inhabit.
That she didn’t just hear that.
Wheatley had never been very good at reading facial expression - or voice inflection - or anything regarding any sort of body language but if he had learned anything it was that it was never a bad idea to try, so when she drew her hand back he very much threw himself onto the other edge of the sofa, staring at her and trying (trying being the only word to describe it) to explain.
“Lis - Listen look, that was not what it sounded like…”
His voice drifted off when he saw that her eyes were fixed on a rather low point of his body.
“Okay, maybe it was but please don’t be mad I didn’t mean to…”
It took him a while to realize that she was smiling, that it was warm, and that she was, tapping his leg, asking him to look at her.
It’s okay. Come here.
And he does, she kisses him and it’s sweet and reassuring until she bites his lower lip as hard as she can and he really can’t help himself, he makes some sort of stuttering pitiful sound while trying to get as close to her as possible.
He fidgets awkwardly until she takes control, gently placing her hand on his hips and guiding him to sit down on her lap.
He’s so so much taller than her and it should be awkward but it just feel safe and warm (and accepting). The both of them have never been as thankful for the baggy pajama pants that should belong in the trash rather than on the body of an actual person, because, oh man, do they make her slipping her hand down the front of them easy.
This is far from the first time but he’s louder than usual, especially when she grabs his hair to bend his torso a bit further away from her, so he’s less hunched over, so she has a better reach (and a better view).
She keeps him there, tense and shaking for a few moments, until he finally comes, slumping down onto her body.
He’s smiling, and feeling a bit raw and exposed but says anyway,
“oh, I guess you don’t mind, do you?”
And she giggles.
He takes that as a yes.