Even if he realized his shivers were gratifying in some way, there's no intent behind them at all, no inclination to pat Ned's ego or to put on a show. He's just not good at hiding his reactions to anything; no matter what he's feeling, it's written all over his face and all over his movements, and when something feels as good as this, he can't even begin to imagine how he'd downplay it. When Ned runs his tongue over his nipple, he absolutely can't avoid a low, surprised little whimper. And if that feels so good, he can't imagine how good everything else from here on out will feel.

He's content to let Ned tug his pants off, and to lie back in his boxers -- which are surprisingly the only non-colorful part of his wardrobe -- and his socks, which are, as might have been almost expected, mismatched. This is all going pretty well, he thinks; he's handling this, he's not making a fool of himself, he's able to touch Ned and be touched in return.

At Ned's comment, though, he's rendered entirely speechless for a moment. He's well aware that he must look stupid, lying there in his socks and underwear, open-mouthed, halfway between shock and amusement, but he comes up with a response quickly enough, shakes his head in disbelief. "Nobody's ever said that to me before. Especially not someone that looks like... well, that looks like you."