That grip squeezes again as Loxley lets his head tip backwards, body shifting in those small and subtle ways to meet her in turn, pressing them both close. His hands shift, pushing more intimate where he smooths his fingers down around to her inner thighs from behind, thumbs pushing into soft skin, sweeping in stroking arcs.

"Oh, you know," he sighs out. "Everything."

His hips push up a fraction beneath her against her hand, and for all this talk of all night, he feels like he's teetering on some form of cusp, and has been this whole time. He turns his head to sort of nuzzle a kiss into her hair. "I would like you," he says, quieter, husky but direct. "I would like to fuck you, Derrica, and for you to have me, anyway you like--"