Maybe it's not quite fair to ask him questions that require verbal answers while touching him. He remembers the mess of thoughts from two nights before, all the things he wanted, yes this included, though he had to be sure. Draco is still young enough that desire, sensation take the front seat and push cognitive skills off somewhere to the side sometimes, steal speech and intelligent thought. Snape finds it rather endearing, now that he no longer suffers from that same fate.

He turns his hand to cup him, and he watches his face, flushed with color, eyes bright, lips slightly parted.

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs. Snape's aware that he knows as much, as vain as he is, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to hear it.

His hands come up the front of Draco's body, and then he's skillfully undoing those many buttons, top to bottom. He's making quick work of it, clearly experienced in the doing and undoing of buttons, if his own attire was any testament. The last one undone, his hands slip beneath the lapels and loosen his tie enough to get to the shirt buttons beneath. His hands are working their way down again, but this time, the backs of his fingers, knuckles are brushing the soft skin of his chest and belly. Merlin, he's beautiful, silently to himself as he exposes that pale skin.