He winds an arm around her, as much to feel her more completely as she comes as it is to offer something to brace against, to relax beneath. The hand that was working her stills, pressing warm, slow to ease back away to splay low against her belly. She says his name, and he says, "Hello, darling," against the kiss, before tipping his head to get another one, more firmly aligned.

And then her cheek, and jaw, both arms forming a loose circle around her waist. His own sense of want feels pleasantly confused, id-based suggestions like a glass of wine wouldn't go amiss, or to rest for a moment in this comfortable tangle, or to hurry into something new.

"Even lovelier than I imagined," he says, somewhere against her throat, voice warm.