He moves as bid, following through that motion as if he hadn't hesitated. It affords them better intimacy, lets him sink against her and the bed, into the embrace of her arms around his shoulders, her legs tangled with his. It's nice, adding pressure and weight to their shared warmth.

Loxley kisses her mouth, her jaw and throat, half distracted by all the rest as he reaches down to touch her and touch himself, to guide himself into a gentle point of contact, to give her what she asks. He sighs, a sleep-rough sound, the hand braced against the bedding beside her shoulder gathering up loose cotton into a fist as he slides into her, new tension of a good sort hardening across his shoulders, down his back.

Lifts his head, kisses her again, dirtier and less precise this time.