[ The dark red of his skin looks even deeper next to her paleness and the light curls of her hair, but it's unmarked by her hands, the small scratches and bruises she'd made disappearing almost instantly, their brief presence adding a heightened note of frantic energy to the way she'd ridden him. He hadn't objected and could, he figures, take more of that kind of thing, it just being a matter of asking for it. It's all the better to see the way it makes her come harder, trembling and crying out, wetness running down between them to soak the sheets, until she subsided on top of him.

He echoes her smile down the curve of his chest, brushing some idle strands of hair back behind her ear. It's been enough that even he feels warm from it, their bodies slippery and sweaty, but he can't find it in himself to want to move an inch.

And he hadn't missed that note in what she'd said, including him like his presence in her life is a known quantity, expected and wanted, a small casually used word that makes something in his chest ache as his heartbeat kicks back up a gear. ]

Yeah, that's gonna be pretty good. [ He's distracted, a little, by the thought that keeps occurring to him, the idea he hasn't been able to shake for a couple of weeks. He clears his throat around it, letting his hand drift down to rest on the curve of her back. ]

Can I ask you something? About what we're.. what we're gonna be doing here?