Having dug her fingers in to his shoulders, bracing for slipping all the way to the floor in a heap, Loxley's save is rewarded with a bright, easy laugh. Her grip flexes on his shoulders, then loosens, settling with a slow roll of her hips as his mouth moves along her jaw.

"Good catch," comes softly, pitched low. She turns her head to find his mouth, kiss him again as her hands move down his chest to find the lacing of his trousers.

There's something so sweet in being indulged without question. Her kiss is very open, one hand leaving his lacing to cup his face. The set of her fingers is very light, skimming over his beard, thumb finding his cheek as she sinks into their kiss.

Loxley has always been easy to like. But some quiet, fond thing steals in between them now, and Derrica finds no reason to try and dispel it.