Firefly Glen caressed my every sense it would allow

Editing in a (crappy) conclusion with permission

The wrongness escaped him, then, but just barely; Ava's heat-scent overwhelmed his senses in more ways than he had realized possible. The boy soon grew more forward. He moved to press himself alongside her, brushing shoulder to shoulder first— then he was sliding along the length of her body. The Mayfair tracked his progress with nips and kisses along the girl's spine, moving slowly. Something deep and instinctual urged him forward, but not enough to quell entirely his inherent shyness and gentle demeanor.
Everything became a blur for a time; Cortland couldn't tell how long it was. At some point he became uncomfortable— he was stuck, why was he stuck? But, oh— now this felt wrong. The blur came back, but different this time. Now he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He mumbled something to Ava— an apology, perhaps— and bolted as soon as he was able.