Lucky he's always kind of liked being held done. Happens a lot around here. He's careful to demonstrate that enthusiasm now, afraid that without encouragement he might lose Mort's attention again. A soft, pleased little grunt as his hand's held down, a longer, drawn-out purr at the hand on his chest. At the moment, he's glad for the threadbare old tanktop. Doesn't get in the way of sensation. He drinks in the touch blissfully, though he jumps at little at the hand in his hair. It's very sensitive and one place he's not a fan of grabbing and pulling. But Mort's been gentle so far, and it can be nice to have it played with carefully. The strands curl around Mort's fingers invitingly. "Mmm, gentle with that," he murmurs quickly, closing his eyes, aware it's a risk but one that might be a little more enjoyable for it. "Of course I want this. I've been chasing you since I got here." Which, admittedly, comes to a few weeks, but still. He's had to work harder than seems fair.